Page 67 of Of Iron and Moonlight

The earl sat heavily, hands braced against his knees. “The answer will not surprise you.”

“Kryovarre,” Duncan said, already frowning as he took his own seat.

Nelsyn nodded. “Your man tells me you believe the strike this summer will be larger than anything we have faced before.” He shifted in his seat, uncertain. “What should I do? Waiting feels like opening the gates for him. If I sit idle too long, Valdir takes the advantage.”

“Kryovarre may not strike Ardennesse at all. He may turn toward Devrough instead.” Duncan leaned back, arms folded. “Hold your men for now.”

Some of the strain eased from Nelsyn, though a darker hint remained behind his eyes.

“What is it?” Duncan asked. “I can see there is more.”

Nelsyn hesitated. “The possibility of a coming attack is not what has me most shaken. Kryovarre has sent several smaller raids already this summer. That, in itself, is not unusual.” He faltered, as though deciding whether to continue. “But something about them is wrong.”

“Yes,” Duncan said slowly. “Garric mentioned the raids. I sent captains and squadrons your way for reinforcement. Was it not enough?”

“It was,” Nelsyn said quickly. “It helped. Truly.” He lowered his voice. “It is just that Valdir’s men… there is something about them that is not right.”

Duncan frowned. “Explain.”

“Strange things happen.” After a long pause, Nelsyn added, “They throw fire.”

Duncan’s brows knit. “Arrows dipped in oil?”

“No.” Nelsyn’s voice firmed. “The sparks come from nowhere. From their hands. Not with great force… just enough to leave my soldiers burned. Singed beards. Scorched cloaks.” He swallowed. “I know how it sounds.”

Duncan looked at him for a long moment. “You are describing Aurumierran magic.”

“That is what troubles me,” Nelsyn said. “They are men. Merely men.” He dragged a hand past his ear as though to underline it. “And yet…”

Duncan turned toward the window, his mind returning to strange reports from Netherfen Hallows. Could there be some connection between the two?

“You do not believe me,” Nelsyn assumed quietly.

“I believe you have seen something that defies easy explanation,” Duncan replied. He fell silent again, then straightened. “I do not yet know what it means. But whatever it means, we will face it together. When the strike comes—if it comes to Ardennesse—I will be there.”

The words sounded like his father’s. He did not miss that.

Relief finally eased Nelsyn’s mouth. “Thank you, Your Grace. I needed to hear that.”

Duncan nodded. “Anything else?”

Nelsyn shook his head.

“Then one matter on my end,” Duncan said, leaning forward. “I have been inundated with letters from court suggesting who ought to attend the duchess when the season begins. I would rather choose someone whose loyalty I already trust.” He let the words settle. “Would you consider sending your youngest daughter, Terrice, to serve as my wife’s lady’s maid?”

“I would be honored to send her, Your Grace,” Nelsyn said after recovering from surprise. “She is spirited, but well-mannered. And fond of new places.”

“Excellent,” Duncan said, rising. “Safe roads home, Lord Nelsyn.”

Nelsyn stood and bowed. “May the moons guard you, Your Grace.”

Once he was gone, Duncan glanced at the clock and cursed under his breath.

He was late.

Chapter 34

Duncan