Page 232 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Duncan stared at him. “My father asked you to leave?”

“Not exactly.” Merrick shook his head once. “Not in those words.”

Duncan frowned. “Then what did he say?”

Merrick let out a slow breath. “Your father was boyhood friends with our uncle.”

Duncan’s brow furrowed deeper. “I know that. He took you in because—”

“Because he hoped one day Isander would reclaim Kryovarre.”

“Reclaim… the Duchy of Kryovarre?”

Merrick nodded. “Return it to Sivgard’s line.”

Silence stretched. Duncan looked between Merrick and the grave beneath their feet, as if searching for something he had missed all these years. Kora’s breath caught.

“You haven’t told her?” Merrick asked quietly.

“Not my secret to tell.”

Merrick straightened slowly. “Kal,” he said, “is short for derVeselkal.” A faint humorless breath left him. “Our father was Bengrid. Second son of the former Duke of Kryovarre. Our mother was a seamstress at Kalgorod Castle. He saw her once and that was the end of sense.”

Duncan turned to Kora, adding, “My father knew.”

“Alaric knew,” Merrick agreed. “Sivgard too. They kept it quiet. Even from Wolmer.”

Kora tilted her head as pieces shifted in her mind. “Ernst was right… Not all the derVeselkals died when the derDobroiovs burned the family wing of Kalgorod Castle.”

“All the legitimate derVeselkals did.” Merrick’s jaw tightened. “Isander and I were sons of a second son. Bastards in the eyes of the throne. Dead if the crown ever learned of it.”

Kora inhaled sharply. “But when Sivgard died without an heir…”

“Yes.”

“Isander,” she continued, the enormity of it demanding the words. “He would have been the rightful Duke.”

Merrick gave a small nod.

“Very well.” Duncan turned toward him, something hard settling behind his eyes. “I can see now that my father may have had reasons for taking you in beyond simply sheltering the kin of his late friend. But I still do not understand. Why would he send you away?”

Merrick hesitated. “Because Isander would never have taken the throne. His heart was here. In Lemierre. With you. He wanted to serve, not rule.”

Kora glanced toward Alaric’s grave, then toward Duncan. “And your father saw that.”

“Long before either of us did.” Merrick followed her gaze briefly. “He told me someone would have to do what Isander never would.” He pressed his lips together. “So I left. I went to learn what Valdir had turned the duchy into. Who profited from it. Who feared it.” His mouth twitched faintly. “The kind of things a man cannot learn while wearing a good name.”

“And the Ashfell Quiett…” Duncan prompted quietly.

“I built it there,” Merrick said. “Piece by piece. Smugglers. Informants. Men who had lost too much to Valdir’s rule. Enough that when the time came, Isander would not have to fight alone.”

Kora’s voice softened. “You meant to give it all to him.”

Merrick nodded weakly. “A network. An army. The ground beneath Valdir’s feet already breaking.” His eyes flickered once toward Duncan. “I thought if I placed victory in his hands, if I returned our homeland to him… Isander might finally accept what was his.” A painful pause. Merrick’s throat tightened. “Now, he’s gone.”

Duncan let out a quiet breath, understanding settling. “You agreed to help in Ardennesse only after Isander asked because, in your mind, the Ashfell Quiett was always his to command.”

“Do you see now why I couldn’t tell him?” Merrick finally turned fully toward Duncan and looked deeply into his eyes. “He would have fought me at every turn.”