Page 69 of Of Iron and Moonlight

The afternoon unfolded like an Emberglade Castle tapestry. Rensaya led them through her herb garden, naming which plants eased fever, which quieted pain, and which were best left untouched unless real harm was intended. She pointed out claw marks on a tree where a bear had passed and traced its path by the disturbed moss along the trunk.

Kora listened with shining attention, absorbing every word. Duncan listened too, but often found his gaze drifting to her instead. She moved through wild places with open wonder, dark hair loose around her shoulders, eyes bright with green fire, as though the growing and blooming world breathed additional life into her.

When Duncan judged it time to return to Emberglade, he brought the horse forward and reached to lift Kora into the saddle.

She shook her head. “Teach me,” she said. “Please.”

He found he could not deny her.

With gentle care, he showed her where to place her foot, how to take the reins and shift her weight as she mounted or steered. She set herself to it, faltered, laughed at her mistakes, and tried again until she completed her first smooth circle alone.

When she smiled at herself, pleased, Duncan could not help smiling with her. And each time his hand brushed hers, he felt the warmth linger longer than it ought to.

Time dissolved, until shadows lengthened and the sun dropped behind the hills. They raced the falling light back to Emberglade, spirits lifted, trading easy banter along the way.

Duncan did not know what possessed him. Once the horse was settled, he caught Kora’s hand, surprised by the impulse and pleased by it all the same. “Come,” he said, mischief in his voice. “I know where Nahel hides the sugared biscuits.”

“Oh,” Kora startled, then chuckled as he tugged her toward the kitchens.

They crouched together by the pantry shelves, whispering like conspirators until they found the wrapped bundle. Powdered sugar dusted their fingers as they ate. Duncan’s cheeks ached with laughter, an ache he had not felt in a long while.

A scrape of boots against the floor brought them both up short.

“Garric,” Duncan blurted sheepishly. He could not remember the last time he had been caught like this, grinning over stolen sweets.

Garric stood in the doorway with his arms folded, his expression carefully neutral, though amusement glimmered unmistakably in his dark eyes. “There is a change of clothes waiting in your rooms. We must leave within the half hour if we are to arrive in time for the exchange.”

“Thank you,” Duncan said, already on his feet, shoving the last biscuit into his mouth. He brushed sugar from his hands and offered Kora his arm as she rose.

Cursed Hunrick.

Duncan had forgotten the market sting entirely and wanted nothing more than to stay hidden in this narrow pantry, pretending the world beyond its shelves did not exist.

He looked at Kora and allowed himself the illusion for one stolen heartbeat longer.

Then the moment passed.

They ran for their chambers, duty closing in once again.

Chapter 35

Koraleise

Their covert operation became a night-long circuit through Emberglade, winding along dark streets where Garric’s spies watched from shadows and alleys, where coin and rumors were exchanged readily. By the time they returned to the castle, the sun was cresting the horizon, and they were both exhausted and exhilarated by adventure.

Osric waited at the entrance, his face tight with concern. One look at him was enough to tell Kora the careless freedom that marked the past day was coming to an end.

“Your Grace,” he said gravely, not troubling with a bow. “Word has arrived. The Duke of Duskmere is on his way for a formal visit. Today.”

Duncan stopped beside her. “Were we expecting him?”

Osric shook his head. “The messenger sent ahead last night while you were out claims the matter is urgent and unforeseen. He would say nothing more.”

After scarcely an hour’s sleep, Kora was swept into preparations: consultations with Osric about precedence, debates with Nahel over menus, gowns chosen and discarded with Mathilde’s increasingly frantic assistance. She had not seen Duncan since dawn, only heard his voice carrying through the halls as he directed staff and made arrangements with his advisers.

Her mother’s firm voice joined the chaos. A lady of noble blood does not fidget.

Kora’s hands betrayed her anyway. She tugged an embroidered tablecloth taut, then tighter still, as though precision might lend composure. Nudged a silver vase of roses left, then back again, realizing neither placement made any significant difference. Smoothed her gown for the fifth time, though it already lay perfectly.