A Promise of Iron by Brandon McCoy (the reading list .txt) 📕

alone enough to speak on my ascension to House Monroe. I made no mention of the Circle.

“Why did he do it?” Lira asked. “I mean, what benefit is it to claim a bastard that is not your own? No offense.”

“None taken,” I said, tapping a finger to Nahdril’s hilt. “I expect this has more to do with it than anything.”

“Maybe,” she said, obviously unconvinced. “But I think there is more at play here.”

I was impressed with her intuition. There was more to it, of course. I was to be a symbol of the resistance, a hope to awaken a people long ago defeated. As a newly minted officer, I was also a pair of eyes and ears within the Imperial Corps. But I couldn’t tell her any of that.

“He wants the sword in his family. He wants the prestige, the legacy. Accepting me into his family was the easiest way to do that.”

“Aside from just taking it from you, you mean?”

I didn’t respond.

She placed her hand on my face. Her eyes were soft. “It is dangerous being in debt to powerful men,” she warned.

I covered her hand with mine and smiled reassuringly. “Lira, I trust Edwin and Crylwin with my life. If this is a debt I must pay to keep you safe from inquiry, then it is one I’m happy to pay.”

She blinked away the seed of a tear then buried her head into my shoulder once more. “Just be careful,” she said.

I held her for a long while, then took her hand as I stood.

“Wait,” she said, sliding the hem of her dress up her leg. “I haven’t given you your present yet.”

I smiled. “A present best given in privacy?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You barbarian,” she scolded as she propped her leg on my knee and untied a ribbon of black lace. “They really should make dresses with pockets,” she said, placing a wooden box the size of a peach in my hand. “This is your present, well, two technically. The box itself is sort of a gift.” She bit the corner of her lip. “Well, open it.”

The box was old, carved of ash, and stained a deep crimson red. It had intricate designs around the base, depicting each season. I opened the lid and saw a polished copper ring cradled in a bed of soft velvet.

“It’s a waiting box, something to store things that are precious to you,” she explained. “It was my mother’s. I’m not sure father ever kept the ring, but at least he kept the box.”

“Lira, it’s—”

“Silly, I know….”

“Beautiful,” I corrected as I pulled the ring out of the box.

“Well, it certainly doesn’t have the lineage of Kerry’s ring. Did you know that her husband melted the copper down from an arrow he took in the chest? The wound was only inches away from his heart. Oh, what was it he said to her…? Oh right. ‘For the one that pierced my heart.’ A little macabre, but talk about romantic.”

“I didn’t know that story,” I confessed, “Kerry kind of sprang it all on me at once.”

“Oh, I know all that, and you’re forgiven.”

“Forgiven for what?”

“Do you really need to know?”

I thought for a second, then shook my head.

She plucked the ring out of my hand. “Take your gloves off so I can make sure it fits.”

I did as instructed and peeled my gloves off one by one. The glove caught on my bandage and pulled free some of the dried blood. I winced.

“What happened here?” she asked, taking my bandaged hand in hers. “Are you okay?”

“Silly Rukish superstition,” I explained as I adjusted the bandage.

She raised her eyebrow.

“It’s an offering of sorts,” I explained. “And it’s nothing really, just a scratch.”

“You poor thing,” she said motherly, patting the back of my hand. She held the ring up to the light. “Look. I had it engraved too.” She pointed at the inside of the ring. “He had to get a translator to do it in Illyrian script.”

She ran her finger over the inscription. “Always and forever,” she read. “It was something my mother used to say to me when I was young.” She bit her lip again. “It’s silly, really.”

“Lira, it’s not, it’s…”

She reached for my hand, and her eyes met mine. They were warm; they were fire; they were home. She slid the ring onto my finger slowly, then pulled me close to her. She pressed her lips to mine. I believe she intended something short, pristine, courtly, but it did not end as such. As her lips touched mine, I felt a fire kindled. I held her to my body, soaking in her warmth. She leaned into me, and I ran my hands along the curve of her.

“You will spoil your third present, my lord,” she whispered into my ear. My whole body quivered in response.

“I never liked surprises,” I replied as I took her mouth to my lips again.

“This one is worth the wait,” she said, biting my bottom lip. A cold breeze blew then, rustling the hedge behind us. Propriety followed.

She giggled as she corrected her outfit. I gave her a curious look.

“Something Ama said on our ride up,” she explained. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times. “ ‘Be wary of barbarians, dear. They will try to steal your heart…and when they try, you will let them.’ ”

We made our way back down the path and found ourselves gathering with the rest of the guests at the base of the hill. Rows made of stone lined the hill in tiers as it curved inward around the wooden stage. An entire row towards the bottom sat reserved for our house. Old Monroe was conspicuously absent as was the Lady Delacroix, but Kerry was seated at the center. She waved for us to join. Crylwin sat next to her and Decia next to him- she wore her characteristic look of indifference.

We took our seats next to them. Kerry moved, making it a point to sit between the girls. She