Page 48 of Of Iron and Moonlight

“How would that benefit Valdir?” Rhalen countered mildly.

“He could be using Oorlon’s pressure to tighten his grip on the iron economy,” Osric said. “If Wolmer yields ground rather than face two threats at once, Valdir gains much from controlling it. It is the Empire’s lifeblood—plow and hinge before sword and armor. Not to mention the profits.”

Duncan’s jaw set. “That matches my own conclusion.”

“Or perhaps Valdir seeks leverage more than coin or favor,” Kora said, hearing her own voice only after the words had left her. Heat rose in her cheeks as eight sets of eyes turned toward her, Nelayne’s the most skeptical. She moistened her lips, then forced herself to finish the thought, “If he controls iron, he controls the resource the Empire depends upon most. Public favor can achieve what soldiers cannot. An army is not always needed to win, only a market that folds.”

“To what end?” Nelayne challenged.

“To reclaim the Empire,” Kora said softly. The deduction felt larger than she intended.

Cairon blinked, then set a fist on the table. “That holds,” he said slowly. “It is no secret Valdir resents House derVaelclair for taking the imperial throne from House derDobroiov. But he cannot hope to match the strength of the Vael Citadel outright, so he means to take control through iron.”

“The derDobroiovs were cruel rulers,” Rhalen reflected quietly, as both scholar and survivor. “More than half the population was in poverty. Nobles were executed without warning. Fear ruled every interaction with the Spectrum.”

“This will not be how the Empire slips back into derDobroiov hands,” Duncan said, bringing the chamber back to attention. “Whatever Oorlon gains or loses, it changes nothing. If we are right about Valdir’s ambitions, and if that is where he strikes, Ardennesse must not fall to Kryovarre—not even the smallest village.”

“He’ll not have Devrough either, Your Grace,” Brannoc declared firmly. “That snake will regret the day he set his sights on Lemierre lands.”

The room changed at once. Ink spread across parchment. The map accrued anchors—stones, knives, even a discarded plum pit—holding corners in place where decisions would stand. Lists multiplied across the table, plans taking form in disciplined hands.

More than once since she had spoken, Kora sensed Duncan’s attention on her, and she kept her eyes lowered, fearing she would find anger if she looked at him.

When she finally risked a glance, he was not watching with irritation. He did not smile, but a shadow of a different thought crossed his features.

Which thought, she could not say.

His eyes still on her, Duncan addressed the far end of the table. “Master Rhalen, my apologies. All this talk of war, and we’ve let you sit without a voice.”

“If we lose our lands, there will be no minds left to shape,” the old man replied. He seemed to possess endless patience, no doubt from years of coaxing order out of restless boys. “My tidings are simple. The schools fare well. Attendance held through planting, and at harvest we will offer free lunches to keep farming children from being pulled too early into the fields.”

Approval passed around the table. Brannoc let out a low whistle.

Rhalen inclined his head, pleased but not showy. “Classrooms are growing crowded, however. Another school in Southbridge would ease the strain.”

“I’ve read your letters,” Duncan said. “Forgive the delay. Ossy, find the funds. Not every coin we hold can be bent toward war. Life will continue. We must act as though we expect it to.”

“Of course,” Osric said. “And shall I set aside funding for Goldfire?”

Brannoc caught Kora’s brightening at the mention and gave her an outrageous wink. “No one marks Goldfire like Emberglade Castle.”

Kora flushed and smiled. “I look forward to it.”

Duncan looked briefly uncertain. “Very well.” He hesitated, then added, “Larger than last year. We do have a duchess to welcome.” Something in his tone made Kora feel he meant it.

“You should also tour the valley,” Nelayne added. “It’s been too long since the people saw their duke.” Then, with a scrutinizing look at Kora, “And they’ll want to see their duchess.”

“Good thought,” Duncan said, sounding faintly irked not to have thought of it himself.

The Council turned back to smaller business, steady as the river beyond the walls. And when they adjourned, it was with clasped shoulders, mock bows, and hearty jests.

As she left the room, warmth gathered in Kora’s chest, and with it the fierce wish that one day she might not only sit among them but be counted as one of them.

Chapter 26

Duncan

The latch fell shut, leaving the study filled with only the scent of old parchment and sugared plums. Duncan worked the stiffness from his shoulders, not because his advisors had wearied him, but because their departure made the room seem harsher. Lonelier.