Page 75 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Because that, she told herself as she drew the curtains against Hanurath’s green light and stood alone with the dark, forcing herself toward composure, was what a good duchess did.

And there was Isander. Lyra. The Council. Others who filled her days with purpose. If the duke continued to show her courtesy and outward regard, it would be enough.

It would have to be enough.

Chapter 37

Duncan

Long after the guests retired and the castle quieted, Duncan found he could not sleep.

His study lay dim, the hearth cold, a single lamp burning against the dark. Still fully dressed, he leaned over the table with both hands braced on the wood, head bent, and dismantled the day piece by piece. He began with his strange conversation with Duskmere, turning over each remark and omission, and ended with the hunt, and how narrowly chance had spared him from something that felt uncomfortably close to an attempt on his life.

“Shall we ride before the day grows old?” Ernst flashed a politician’s smile, then hauled himself into the saddle with the enthusiasm of a younger man and the grace of someone who only believed he possessed it. The bay beneath him snorted at the weight.

They set out with a modest retinue, a blend of Duskmere’s guards and Duncan’s own men. He and Ernst rode ahead, Isander several paces behind, the rest following with hounds straining at their leashes. The trail dipped along the riverbank, where reeds brushed their boots and damp air carried an earthy tang from the forges downstream.

“I see how Lemierre prospers, and I’ll grant you that,” Ernst declared, his attention lingering on the sluices lining the river, where wooden boards guided water into irrigation cuts—one of Duncan’s newer undertakings, built at Rensaya’s advice. “But you’ve iron in your hills and oil under your soil. Give me your forges, your mines, and Duskmere would be ten times what it is. Perhaps then Wolmer would remember which duchy keeps his carriages running.”

Duncan adjusted his gloves to distract himself from a spark of irritation before answering. “Lemierre prospers because its lords walk their fields as often as they walk the court.”

Duskmere’s grin faltered for a blink before returning unchanged, the meaning received and politely ignored. “I have missed your sense of humor, Lemierre.”

Duncan let the silence answer for him. It was not, perhaps, the courteous choice, but he found his patience ground rather thin in that moment.

After it stretched long enough to ensure the duke understood it was intentional, Duncan spoke again. “What is this business you wished to discuss?”

Duskmere shifted his reins. “Business and hunting don’t mix kindly,” he replied coolly. “Let’s leave coin and contracts for tomorrow, when we’ve set our weapons aside.”

Duncan’s jaw tightened. “As you wish.”

Ernst glanced abruptly at the handlers behind them, then toward the approaching treeline. “Release them,” he called.

The hounds surged forward in a rush of noise, the chase pulling their hunting party deeper into the green as baying echoed through the trees and birds scattered from the branches.

A whistle split the air.

“Down!”

Isander was already off his horse, one hand wrenching Duncan’s reins aside while the other drew his blade. An arrow hissed past Duncan’s shoulder and sliced the edge of his cloak.

His mare reared, hooves striking empty air, but Isander held the reins and kept Duncan from being thrown. Somewhere behind them a rider cursed and fumbled another arrow.

“Hold!” Duncan barked.

Silence.

A hawk cried overhead, the echo of its wings the only sound lingering in the stillness.

“Your Grace—ah, it slipped—I meant it for the stag—” one of Ernst’s men stammered.

Duskmere wheeled in his saddle, anger flashing across his face. “You miserable fool. You’ll muck stalls for a year if you so much as glance at a bow again.” Then he turned back to Duncan with a broad smile. “My apologies, Lemierre. Merely an excess of enthusiasm.”

Duncan smoothed his horse’s mane, the shock of the near strike still lodged in his chest. “Next time,” he said calmly, “I’d prefer enthusiasm pointed away from my head.”

Ernst boomed with laughter, albeit somewhat forced. “You see, Lemierre? Even the forest enjoys a little excitement.” His dark eyes lingered on Duncan, searching.

Duncan let out a breath through clenched teeth, but held his look. Something unreadable passed between them before Ernst broke it with a chuckle.