Page 233 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Duncan set a hand on his shoulder. “You could have told me,” he said. “Or Corwin. Or Garriden. Any one of us would have stood beside you.”

Merrick shook his head. “Once the Ashfell Quiett became a marked criminal force, I wouldn’t risk House derWhitte falling from grace on my account.”

“But now you’re the rightful heir…”

“I don’t want it,” Merrick said at once. “I wanted it for Isander, for the memory of what our family should have been. I wanted it to be a gift…”

Winter reclaimed the air around them, too thick for thought to shape words.

“I see,” Duncan said at last. “Where will the road take you now?”

“I no longer have need for an army, I suppose,” Merrick reflected. “But House derDobroiov still holds the title, and I have no faith Valdir’s widow or son will rule better.” He paused, noting Duncan’s grimace, then continued, “There are people in Kryovarre the Ashfell Quiett can help, and that is work worth doing.” After another breath, Merrick swallowed. “And I will find the Moonwarden.”

“Wolmer has men searching—”

“I have men searching too,” Merrick interjected quickly. He would make Firrigan pay—not only for his hand in Isander’s death, but for what he had done to Isander in his youth. “I trust my own more than his throne.”

Duncan nodded slowly. “You have always walked your own path. I won’t try to steer you from it. But know that you have a home here. You can return whenever you choose.”

Merrick looked at him, dangerously close to sheepishly. “In Gryon, I ignored your command. I almost cost you your life… the last brother I have left.”

The look Duncan gave him seemed to carry with it the memory of their entire childhood. “You acted from grief and loyalty both.” He inclined his head, grey eyes glossing slightly at the edges. “I will not hold that against you.”

A quiet breath escaped Merrick. “Thank you.”

“Will you come to dinner with us?” Kora asked. “It is for both Brannoc and Isander.”

Merrick waved a hand. “Go on. I’ll stay only a moment longer, then I must return to Kalgorod.” He hesitated, then added, “If you ever need to reach me, leave a note with the derWhitte seal in the eastern belltower of Kalgorod. One of mine checks it every fortnight.”

Duncan gave his shoulder one last firm squeeze. “Take care of yourself.”

“We will miss you,” Kora said softly.

“Stay well,” Merrick murmured.

When their figures disappeared beyond the snowy path to the castle, he took off his gloves and laid both hands against Isander’s marker, the surface cold and unyielding beneath his palms. Then he bowed his head over his brother’s grave.

His breath left him in a fractured rush, the kind a man cannot stop once it starts.

And there, with winter gathering mercilessly around him and the earth still raw beneath his feet, Merrick broke—as cleanly and completely as a man can break.

Chapter 105

Koraleise

It had never snowed in Marrowgate. Yet Kora found herself unexpectedly fond of Emberglade’s winter quiet. The air felt crisp in her lungs. Frost gentled the edges of everything it touched, softening the world, wrapping it in a deep, encompassing hush.

There was no clang of steel in the distance. No cries of men beyond the canvased walls of a war camp. No courtly machinations stirring nearby. Only the forest opening around them, the natural world continuing in indifference to the follies of men.

Half a day into their journey, Duncan guided their horse into a small clearing hidden among elms and broad oaks. “We’re here,” he murmured, pulling Kora a little closer where she sat before him in the saddle. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her chilled cheek.

Before them stood a hunting cabin. Modest in the way country houses often were, built for a handful rather than a court. Sturdy and welcoming rather than grand. Duncan lifted her gently from the saddle, then their boots crunched in the snow as they unhooked the packs they had brought for their brief escape and carried them inside.

The interior was warm without feeling cramped, the sort of place meant for retreat rather than display. Kora wandered with bright curiosity. A broad arch opened to one side, and she drifted toward it, drawn to the great room she had glimpsed from outside.

Windows stretched from floor to ceiling, panes so tall they made the forest seem part of the chamber. Afternoon light filtered through the branches beyond, laying pale gold across the seating scattered through the space: broad cushioned chairs angled toward the view, a long sofa draped in wool throws, a low table carved from a single slab of dark wood.

Duncan’s arms slipped around her, drawing her back against his chest. He leaned and kissed her shoulder, the warmth spreading through the layers of her winter clothes.