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

a moonless stroll in the garden. Richard made his way to the dance floor, the musicians quieted, and a hush took the room.

“My lord extends his gratitude to all here tonight. Thank you for joining us in celebration of our very own Lordson Faerin Monroe.”

I stood, gave a slight bow, then waved to the crowd. They clapped and raised glasses in salute, just as disingenuous as when I first greeted them.

“My lord hopes you have enjoyed tonight’s festivities and the hospitality of the estate,” Richard continued. “For those of you who wish to stay in celebration, we welcome you. The guest houses are open, eat, drink, dance.”

There was another round of applause.

“Sadly, for those that cannot stay onto the morrow, we must say our goodbyes. The guard captain informs me that he will be closing the gates within the hour for your safety. It is a fell moon tonight. May Sereventus guide you upon your path.” He wiggled his fingers, prompting another round of laughter, then gestured to the musicians. They played quietly as the retirees… retired. Men shook hands, and ladies kissed cheeks, all with the same pomp and regard as they feigned for me. I took some comfort in that, knowing that they hated each other at least half as much as they hated me.

I did not stand to wish them goodnight, Ama and Richard, the true hosts of this evening, took care of that. I lingered instead at our table, Lira at my side. We counted as they left, making penny wagers as to who would stay and who would go. Our wagers were pretty even until I saw my chance.

“Rohger will leave,” I said, slapping a coin down on the table. “A whole noble.”

“Wow,” she said exaggeratedly. She looked around for him, spotting the portly man mingled in the crowd. “You sure? He looks nine toes in already.”

I shrugged my shoulders, doing my best to appear nonchalant.

She raised her eyebrow. “No, I recognize that face, you know something. No bet.”

Rohger came a few minutes later, saying his goodbyes and explaining that he was due to open Turns tomorrow since Melly covered him tonight.

Lira jabbed me in the ribs as he left. “You memorize their schedules now?”

I laughed as we tallied. More than half would be back in their own beds before the dark moon reached its zenith. I was surprised at how many stayed, though I wasn’t naïve enough to think that had anything to do with me. Food, wine, women, and song, the four heartbeats of a man, that’s why they stayed, not for me or fear of Golmere raids. I didn’t mind. Such evenings, as Ama had put it, become the spice of life. Perhaps we weren’t so different after all.

After the early exits cleared, Ama returned to the table.

“What are you two still sitting here for?” she asked. “Go! Dance!”

I stood as commanded. “My lady?” I said, holding Lira’s hand.

“My lord,” she replied, pushing back from the table gracefully.

I led her to the center of the dance floor. The musicians were taking requests at the far end; a small crowd had gathered around them, those with young legs and young desire. When the crowd dispersed, the music started, and we began to dance. They played “Round the Wineskin.” It was a quick song without a somber note in it, but it was not a song for partners to dance, and I looked forward to that most of all.

Months ago, shortly after meeting Lira, I was invited to a party at Lavis and Tears. In truth, it was Decia who was asked by a mutual friend of Lira’s. She, in turn, brought Crylwin; he, in turn, brought me. This was not our first time on a dance floor together, but it would be our first time dancing together on one.

The next song, a Rukish jig about a farmer and his pig, proved more than a little insulting, but I wouldn’t let my pride ruin everyone’s cheer. Afterall, I was neither the farmer nor the pig. The third song was “My Heart Beats Slowly,” and as the title suggests, I got my wish. I held her close as our bodies moved as one. A gift of itself, the song carried on longer than intended, those careful weavers of music casting a spell on us all. I wished the song to last the night, if not an excuse to hold her until greeted by the new sunrise.

A single horn blew in the distance, followed by another a few seconds later. The musicians stopped, no one danced.

Richard burst through the double doors, panting. “Golmere sighted.”

Chapter Twenty and Nine

Summer 1272, Cyllian Imperial Count

Chairs toppled over as a crowd rushed the door, eager to catch a glimpse of Golmere in the flesh. Some were too far gone to register excitement for anything more than another song and another drink; we left them behind. We clamored noisily through the halls, like children seeking the sun after a winter storm. When we passed the doors of the manor house, traveling the path through the inner wall to the outer ramparts, the horn sounded for the third time.

Richard labored in the rear, arms burdened with too many chairs. Aides orbited around him, equally taxed as they worked to relocate the party to the west lawn. I led the group, not because I was the only man armed, but because an odd sense of duty compelled me to. These were my guests, here for my party, regardless of semantics or ten-foot walls, I was responsible for protecting them.

Once we passed the garden gate marking the inner walls, I allowed myself to fall into step with Lira, who had become swept up with the other women towards the back. I took her hand in mine.

“Well, this is all terribly exciting, isn’t it?” she said. “Golmere, here, in Windshear! I didn’t think they came this far inland, fell moon or not.”

“They don’t,” I replied.

Her expression darkened. “Are we safe?”

Some of the other women