Page 230 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Kora left her there.

Savoring each step, she made her way down the corridor she had walked a thousand times as a girl, toward Albrecht’s study. Toward the ledgers she had once pored over, working through the figures to occupy the long hours when she had nowhere else to go.

The familiar scents of the chamber washed over her at once, layered with sea salt carried by bay winds. It looked untouched, as though her father had only just stepped away.

As Kora ventured deeper inside, stories of his travels unfurled like memories released from an opened vault. The carved figurine of a dragon from Aurumierra brought back his tales of inventors who could manipulate matter with their bare hands, shaping stone and metal into tools that seemed unimaginable. A lacquered Tsuchitsan box reminded her of the healers and botanists he had spoken of, fae who could make entire cities disappear from sight. And the thick leather tome from Lunnholm held notes from the great scholars of Norrelia and fragments of lore her father had sworn came from older places, perhaps older even than the fae themselves.

She reached out and brushed her fingertips along a book bound in pale blue, its edges darkened as though twilight had begun to creep across them. Her father once told her its pages held the secret past of the world, though the language was long lost to the living.

Yet life carried on, empires turning to ash then rebuilding stubbornly into the future.

The thought brought a smile to her face.

Then she turned and stepped out of the study, leaving the door open behind her.

Chapter 104

Merrick

“He always cheated at cards. Badly,” Osric’s voice carried across the derWhitte cemetery. “And then he’d win once and crow about it for a month.” He paused, lifting his good hand to brush a tear. “But he’d give you the shirt off his back and refuse to hear about getting it returned.”

Nelayne clutched her hands to her heart. “His laughter found you before he did,” she murmured. “You’d hear it across a courtyard and think the stones had come to life.”

Cairon nodded. “Bran took the worst watch shifts and made sure you knew it by complaining about them.” A soft chuckle. “But he remembered every lad who served.”

“Aye,” Garric said. A bandage showed pale across dark skin beneath his hair. “He once pulled me out from under a horse and then complained it had been a good horse.”

Merrick chuckled from the shadows between an old yew tree and the castle wall.

“Then, after grumbling about it, he gave me the flask he kept in his boot,” Garric continued. “Said he carried it for this purpose. To steady the men who needed it most.”

A low hum of grief and agreement moved through their loose ring around the marker. They had gathered a month after the Battle of Gryon to pay their respects. Winter had settled hard around Emberglade. Snow lay thick across the ground, muffling sound. Chilling the bone.

Osric huffed quietly. “He always kept something tucked away for others.”

Rensaya lifted her chin. “He once threatened to chase off a bear with nothing but his boots. Said the creature had insulted his honor.” A thin smile. “The bear fled, understanding the wisdom in retreat.”

“He made space for everyone.” It was Kora. Soft but steady. “It never mattered to him where someone was from. Only who they chose to stand with.”

Merrick let out a heavy breath. One of the rare moments when regret brushed him. Regret that he no longer stepped into circles like this without feeling as though he were intruding on something sacred. Something he had forfeited long ago.

Duncan stepped forward next.

It was still unfathomable to see him alive.

He placed a gilded asphodel sprig on Brannoc’s grave, then his grey eyes met each one of theirs. “Bran leaves a place we cannot hope to fill,” he said, voice calm but pained. “His loss leaves a mark on our Council, in our lives, and in the hearts he strengthened.”

“And in our ears,” Nelayne added gently.

Merrick smiled.

“And in our ears,” Duncan echoed. “We endure this as we endure all things. Side by side. Pain shared is lessened, and the hard road ahead is one we walk bound by the ties Bran helped forge.”

They each stepped forward, crouching at Brannoc’s grave to lay their own talismans beside Duncan’s offering. Every farewell came with a touch to Duncan’s shoulder, a brief press of shared sorrow, and a gentle embrace for Kora.

Merrick angled his dagger so the sun caught the steel.

Duncan’s eyes snapped instantly toward him.