Page 80 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Kora moved to a chair by the window, took out an embroidery frame, and set to work threading her needle.

Ernst broke off mid-sentence when he noticed her. “You brought your wife?”

Kora’s hand paused above the cloth.

Duncan answered lightly. “She is only embroidering.” He watched her briefly with a faint smile; she had sensed her usual book would not have served as sufficient cover today. Then, almost with humor, “You know newlyweds dislike being apart.”

Cairon made a low sound of amusement.

“That is strange, Lemierre,” Duskmere said. “In Duskmere, wives wait in the hall.”

Duncan smiled thinly. “Fortunate, we are not in Duskmere.”

Kora’s needle resumed as Ernst dragged out his chair and sat heavily.

Osric cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

Duncan gave Osric a look of quiet gratitude and took his seat. “What urgent matter did you wish to raise?” he asked.

“Tariffs,” Ernst announced, gesturing to one of his men as Osric and Cairon took their seats—one already arranging his papers, the other planted in place like a block of quarried stone. “We want fifteen percent, for all goods moving along Duskmerri roads.”

Duncan’s brows lifted. “You called an urgent meeting to renegotiate a contract that doesn’t expire for months?” He did not comment on the fact that the trade pact was as old as their alliance. Never before had it been a point of contention.

“Yes,” Ernst said easily, a smug curve to his mouth. “And fifteen is restrained. Our roads suffer every spring thaw. If your merchants want safe passage, they’ll contribute to the upkeep.”

Cairon folded his arms. “Safe passage? Your stones split because your masons hurry the work.”

“Mind your tongue, smith.”

Duncan raised a protective hand. “We’ll do this properly and without bickering.”

He motioned. “Osric?”

Osric leafed through his ledgers. “Ten percent,” he said at last. “That would be fair.”

Duncan glanced at Kora. By her expression, she seemed to agree.

“Ten,” Duncan echoed.

Ernst’s dark eyes narrowed, challenge bright within them. “Your lords rely on my cloth to sustain their courtly fashions. Your cities rely on my stone.”

“And you rely on my coin,” Duncan said, incredulous.

Ernst grunted, unable to dispute it, even in jest.

Duncan leaned back. “Perhaps we should ask Lord Hunrick what he thinks of tariffs. He seems to profit well enough from skimming our stone shipments. I wonder how many other Duskmerri nobles do the same.”

Ernst’s men stiffened. He forced a laugh. “Hunrick’s affairs are his own.”

“Not when he cheats my duchy.”

Duskmere lifted both hands in showy surrender. “Very well. Twelve percent.”

“Eleven. No higher.”

A pause. Then, “Fine. Eleven.”

Osric’s quill scratched across parchment.