Page 7 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Firrigan scoffed before Duncan could reply. “Albrecht’s career has been impressive, certainly, but newly minted viscount blood mingling with that of an ancient ducal house…” The ver particle indicated a title more recently bestowed, not one inherited by blood.

The emperor turned, fixing the Moonwarden with a harsh look. “The Empire is borne every day on the backs of men not born to noble blood,” Wolmer said. “And so long as I sit upon its throne, I will champion any who distinguish themselves and safeguard their right to rise.”

Once more, the clock reclaimed the room. Isander felt a brief, illicit satisfaction at Wolmer’s second rebuke of Firrigan within a single hour. Perhaps the Moonwarden’s hold over his brother waned.

Duncan’s shoulders sank a fraction, but his voice remained steady. “If you command it, Lemierre will oblige,” he said. “I will go to Marrowgate, then to Norrelia. I will hear the viscount’s counsel and Oorlon’s terms. And”—he swallowed—“I will marry.”

“You do Alaric honor, son,” Wolmer said, grey eyes gleaming. “He would be proud. As am I.” Then his tone shifted to duty once more, “Before I forget, our new Moonfather, Gregyor, has expressed his gratitude for Lemierre’s generous contribution to the Basilica’s renovation. It will be the grandest dedication to the Three Moons yet.”

Duncan inclined his head. “Lemierre is glad to give what it can. My father always said the stone of our quarries should serve more than walls and coffers. It should raise what endures.”

Firrigan’s face soured. He had vied for the Moonfather position and lost. “Do not tarry,” he said coolly. “Norrelia values order and does not like to wait.”

“Go with haste and with the moons’ light,” Wolmer said, voice hardening. “If you are not there by the appointed night, Oorlon will consider the parley refused.”

The warning and old blessing lingered as their carriage turned back onto the main road. Amerieth had finally slipped beneath the horizon, and Vaelstrom was fully awake. Temple bells answered one another across districts. Smithies snapped into life with fire and iron. Their carriage felt small within the vast machinery of the city.

“It will be all right,” Isander said, pausing in his watch of the road.

Duncan glanced over. “What will?”

“All of it.” Isander’s mouth twitched. “Even the part where you must sit through an Ardorri meal, pretending you enjoy spiced fish.”

Duncan chuckled, then looked at the parchment in his hand.

“Andy,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Find me a ring,” Duncan said dryly.

They burst into laughter.

For complaining would not change the path already set before them.

Chapter 4

Duncan

Life had become a relentless blur of obligations, caught between numbness and the raw ache of a wound that would not close. The demands of governance never paused. They only multiplied. And some days, the echo of his father’s voice alone lent Duncan the strength to carry on.

A leader must be decisive and see done what must be done.

So Duncan did.

Because there was no one else.

He reviewed reports on trade and taxation. He heard petitions from peasants pleading for relief and guildmasters bargaining for privilege. He authorized repairs to roads and bridges, invested in artisans and temples, attended balls and dinners, and kept Lemierre’s levies ready should the crown call or the borders be tested.

Whatever awaited him at Marrowgate, he could only hope it would not ask more of him than he had left—or drive him to rage against it.

Duncan did not wish to marry. Wolmer’s command had made the matter unavoidable: before riding north to Norrelia, he would be expected to choose a wife. It felt like grit under a nail, another obligation set into an already burdened life.

“Were you able to learn anything more about the viscount?” Duncan asked. They urged their horses into a steady gallop as the desert interior of Ardor gave way to the coast.

“Nothing of real consequence,” Isander replied, his brown eyes keeping vigil on the road. “Albrecht was born to a modest Ardorri merchant family, then built their fortune dealing in rare treasures, though few knew where those treasures came from. The family lives comfortably now. Wealthy, even, for a lesser house. He served as Master of the Oraith Mercantile Fellowship for two decades before retiring a few years ago.”

“That explains his connection to Wolmer. The Fellowship keeps close ties with the crown.”