Page 78 of Of Iron and Moonlight

“Sera—” Duncan started, rising partway, his hand lifting instinctively.

“Don’t.” She gathered her skirts with trembling fingers, drawing the tatters of her composure around her like armor. “You made your choice. Don’t insult me with consolation you don’t mean.”

She turned slowly, like a cat denied cream but unaccustomed to hearing no, and glided toward the door. At the threshold she paused, half her face caught in the lamplight, beauty honed into threat. “You’ll tire of her,” she murmured. “One day, you’ll regret sending me away.”

Then she was gone, leaving the doorway open and the air colder in her absence.

Duncan sank back onto the window seat, pressing his hands to his face. Relief and weariness twisted together in his chest, but his decision remained firm.

Seraphine had been a refuge he returned to—a harbor where grief could be set aside without question or consequence. What she offered asked nothing of him beyond forgetting, and in those days, he had taken that easier path, because yielding to escape required less effort than facing the ache of loss alone.

Perhaps grief had dulled enough that he no longer required distraction to endure it. Or perhaps something else now stood between past and present.

He dared to consider it might be his growing fondness for Kora. The way her presence had folded into the cadence of his life, fitting itself into the jagged fractures he carried. He saw her green eyes at the Council table, intent on learning every name and grievance in Lemierre. Saw her small hands on ledgers beside his. Saw the way those Norrelian gowns had made her look like a living sin—an image that, admittedly, lingered longer than it should have.

Duncan rubbed his eyes, surrendering to fatigue. Then he crossed the study and closed the door—not to bar the outside world, but to keep the past from finding its way back in.

Chapter 38

Duncan

The derStroms elected to take breakfast in their rooms, granting Duncan the rare luxury of extra sleep and a morning unclaimed by obligation. He dressed quickly and made his way toward Isander’s quarters.

When he knocked, a flurry of movement burst from within: hurried footsteps, a muffled protest, something clattering to the floor. A moment later, the door opened just wide enough for a flustered Mathilde to stumble out, cheeks aflame. “Good morning, Your Grace,” she squeaked, dropping into a frantic curtsy. “I am so sorry, Your Grace.”

“It is quite all right.” Duncan checked his smile. “I should be the one apologizing for calling so early.”

Her eyes widened in fresh horror. She curtsied again and fled, skirts flying down the hall.

Isander appeared a breath later, shirt half-fastened. “I thought you would be occupied with the guests this morning.”

“They have skipped breakfast,” Duncan said. “And Ernst guards his sleep fiercely. I doubt we will see him before midday.”

“I see,” Isander muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “I assume you want to spar.”

“If you do not mind.” Duncan smiled, surprised by how genuine it felt.

Isander sighed, already yielding. “Give me a moment.” He disappeared back into the room, the sound of buckles and leather straps following.

Duncan waited with his hands clasped behind his back, a smile tugging at his mouth. “So,” he called through the door, “when are you going to marry her? This has been carrying on for some time.”

A dry laugh answered. “When the emperor commands it.”

“Very amusing,” Duncan said, leaning against the doorframe. Then, softer, “I only hope it is not your captain’s post giving you pause. You know I would never object. And it would do her no favors if anyone but me had found her here this morning.”

Isander stepped out, a trace of sheepishness crossing his face. “I know.” They set out toward the muster yard. “I always thought a wife would change too much,” he continued. “I never saw how there could be room for another person in our lives. But watching how Koraleise has settled here, it has made me think again.”

Duncan smiled. “You know what suits you best. I only mean that whatever brings you happiness, you have my support.”

“Thank you,” Isander returned the smile.

After a few silent steps, his tone turned more guarded.

“Your wife asked me about Seraphine.”

Duncan’s brow furrowed. “And what did you tell her?”

“Nothing about you,” Isander said at once. “Only what is publicly known.”