The Iron Flower

by Laurie Forest

  I let Lukas lead me down a long, Ironwood-paneled hallway, increasingly aware of our solitude. We step into an expansive library with a huge, roaring woodstove, its iron tree limb pipes branching and fanning out over the room, iron leaves decorating their metal surfaces. I glance around in wonder, aware of Lukas’s eyes trained on me.

  Everything is fashioned in the classic Gardnerian style. The walls, ceiling and floor are made of dark Ironwood, and all the carpets, tapestries and rugs are wrought in black and forest green. Carved trees support the roof with dark, tangling branches, and wall torches burn with a warm, buttery-yellow flame.

  If I ignore the view of the base beyond the expansive glass balcony doors, I can almost imagine that we’re back in Valgard, rather than encased in stone near the apex of the Northern Spine.

  Lukas releases my hand and opens another door near the woodstove. He flashes a beckoning smile and gracefully gestures for me to join him.

  His bedroom.

  “You asked for somewhere private,” Lukas says, an amused smile on his lips as a flicker of his fire affinity pulses through me, catching me off guard.

  “I can feel your fire lines,” I tell him, suddenly flustered.

  “Oh, I know you can,” he says throatily.

  “No, not just when we touch,” I clarify, deeply thrown. “I just sensed your fire from across the distance between us.”

  Lukas’s eyes narrow in on me. “That’s a rare skill, Elloren. To sense affinities from a distance. I’ve never heard of anyone below Level Five being able to do it.”

  “Can you sense other Mages’ affinities?” I ask.

  His gaze rakes over me, taking on a sultry heat. “Only yours. And only when I touch you.”

  “Oh.” I glance through the open doorway at Lukas’s bed, a heated tremor running through me. His black bedspread is quilted with the image of a large tree styled in a deeper black. Directly across from the bed, a fireplace crackles with flames. Two black velvet chairs and a table well-appointed with food and drink are set by the fire.

  I hesitate. “I’m not getting into that bed with you,” I tell him, making things clear.

  Lukas’s predatory look doesn’t waver. “I wouldn’t expect so, Elloren. Not on this occasion.” His voice is a caress as he adds, “But if you change your mind, please feel free to let me know.”

  Oh, sweet Ancient One.

  I can barely think around his pull. But even though he’s unabashedly teasing me, I can sense he’s keeping his fire and earth magic firmly in check. Emboldened, I flash him a guarded look and step inside.

  The bedroom’s walls are lined with bookshelves. Curious about his interests, I walk over to one of the shelves and scan the titles, running a fingertip over the smooth leather spines—military history, foreign language dictionaries, grimoires. All impeccably organized.

  I turn and scan the rest of the room.

  There’s a piano, just past the bed, fashioned from Ironwood. A small forest of trees is carved into it, rising up to support the instrument’s lid. I’m instantly intrigued. It’s the only messy area of Lukas’s entire dwelling, with music thrown into piles on the piano, the floor and the piano bench—most of it written in his own hand, as if he’s funneling all his passion into this one area—unleashed and uncontained.

  “You should have brought your violin,” he says, his eyes following my gaze.

  “Mmm,” I distractedly agree, remembering the exhilarating joy of playing with a musician of his caliber. The memory fills me with the uneasy realization that there are aspects of Lukas’s company that I deeply enjoy.

  Another balcony lies just off his bedroom. Large black curtains sweep down and are tied back to the sides of double glass doors, another expansive view of the base just beyond.

  I sit down by the fireplace. There’s a full tea service before me, its elegant black porcelain shot through with golden tree limbs. A tray of small sandwiches, pastries and exotic berries is set beside it, along with an ebony glass bottle and fluted crystalline glasses.

  There’s also a small bouquet of glowing Ironflowers set in a black-lacquered vase. I’m oddly touched by the sight of them, remembering his dazed look when he saw my dress at Yule, sure that he’s hinting at that night with this gesture.

  Lukas sits down across from me and leans back with casual grace, his gaze dark and inscrutable. “Would you like some tea?” he asks.

  I raise a brow. “You’re going to serve me tea, Lukas?”

  He laughs and reaches for the teapot to pour me a cup, his eyes lit with wicked mischief. “I’ll serve you anything you like, Elloren.”

  His fingers graze mine as I take the proffered cup, trailing an enticing line of heat. “Are you trying to court me, Lukas?” I ask as I sit back, half in jest.

  An amused sound escapes his lips. “Oh, I’d do better than tea if you’d let me.” He’s watching me intently, and I’m momentarily much too aware of how devastatingly handsome he is.

  Scrambling for a distraction from that dangerous train of thought, I glance out the nearby window toward the base below. “You’ve done quite the job of rebuilding,” I note, unable to keep a trace of resentment from my tone.

  Lukas’s mouth twitches as he studies me, suddenly serious. “Elloren, what is it you want?”

  I hold his abruptly formidable gaze, both of us serious now. Overcome with nervous tension, I set down my tea, rise to my feet, and walk over to the fireplace, desperate to collect my thoughts. I study the sword that hangs over the mantel, a dragon exquisitely wrought from silver curling around its hilt.

  I take a deep, steadying breath and turn around to face Lukas dead-on. “What do you think of Vogel?”

  There. I said it. And we can’t lie to each other, so answer me this time.

  Lukas’s eyes take on the look of a storm gathering, his voice dagger sharp. “Vogel’s unhinged.”

  We’re both quiet for a long moment as we try to read each other. The unconcealed, almost violent antagonism toward Vogel in Lukas’s gaze emboldens me.

  “Our people are forming mobs, and they’ve started attacking non-Gardnerians in Verpax City,” I tell him.

  Lukas throws me a deeply cynical look. “That’s unfortunate, Elloren,” he says, his tone barbed, “but not at all unexpected. Do you happen to recall what the Kelts and the Urisk did when they were in power?”

  Anger fills me in response to his usual, infuriating and unfeeling logic. An image of Olilly’s multilated ears and shorn hair fills my mind. Bleddyn’s beaten face.

  “The Kelts and the Urisk formed mobs,” Lukas answers for me with a potent glare. “And tormented Gardnerians. They quickly progressed to killing them. First individually, then rounding them up in barns and setting the buildings on fire.”

  I glare back at him, tension igniting on the air between us.

  “And just prior to that,” he continues acidly, “the Fae formed mobs and tormented the Kelts. And before that, the Urisk formed mobs and tormented the Fae.”

  “I know all this, Lukas,” I counter, growing impassioned. “That was them spinning out of control, and this is us spinning out of control. Someone needs to stop it.”

  His smirk is coldly contemptuous. “You mean stop the normal course of history?”

  “Yes.”

  His face hardens. “It doesn’t work that way, Elloren. You can choose to be on the powerful side or not. That’s your only choice in this world.”

  “No,” I lash back. “That is not the only choice. I’ve read a fair bit of history this year, Lukas. The balance of power could be realigned to include everyone. Not just one group tormenting all the others.”

  “Then tell me,” he throws back, a sarcastic curl to his lip, “in your erudite studies of the history of the Realms, when exactly was power realigned to include everyone, Elloren?”

  I move toward him, ire build
ing. I don’t care that he’s a Level Five Mage. I don’t care that he commands this entire base. I can’t fight the compulsion to be blisteringly honest with him. “I don’t care if it’s never been achieved, Lukas. None of us should be aligning ourselves with this nightmare, including you. Vogel needs to be stopped.”

  Lukas’s face grows savage. He abruptly rises, stalks toward me and grabs hold of my arm. “Come with me,” he says, a demand.

  I glance down at his hand, incredulous, doggedly holding my ground. “Where?”

  “Just come.”

  I let him guide me toward the bedroom’s balcony. He throws open the glass door and leads me outside, his hand like a vise, pulling me right up to the edge. There are torches set on metal poles along the balcony’s entire periphery, sending up crimson Mage-flame, heating the entire terrace. Mage-crafted, black tree limbs twist inside the bloodred flame.

  “Look carefully, Elloren,” Lukas seethes, tilting his head toward the sprawling base before us. “What do you see?”

  I shrug him off and glare daggers at him. “Power.”

  “Yes, that’s right. So be careful.” He sends me a piercing, significant look. “I know exactly what you’re involved in. You’re treading on very dangerous ground.”

  I can read it in his eyes. A warning. And I realize, with terrifying certainty, that he knows. He knows I’m wrapped up in the Resistance. The weak Resistance. The easily crushed Resistance.

  And he likely knows about Naga.

  “What do you know?” I rasp out, barely able to form the words.

  Lukas’s expression fills with a disbelief edging toward mockery. “What do you take me for? I know everything.”

  My heart pounds against my chest, my breath becoming uneven, but I force myself to meet his savage glare. “Should I be afraid, Lukas?”

  “Yes, Elloren,” he shoots back. “Very afraid.” His look of fury collapses, becoming conflicted. “But not of me.”

  The startling realization washes over me. He knows. Lukas knows. But he’s going to overlook all of it.

  “I want to fast to you, Elloren,” he snarls, emphatic, “but my protection can only go so far. There are forces much stronger than me at work. Much. So, you need to take great care.”

  I hold his stare, unflinching, as steel rises within me. “Lukas. You need to break from them.”

  He draws back, angered. “And go where, Elloren? To what end?”

  “East.”

  His eyes harden with fury, and he turns away, looking out over the base, seeming wildly unsettled. This is not a Lukas I’ve often seen. He’s like a caged, feral thing. Even though he has power here, I realize, he’s not truly in control.

  No one controls this thing that Vogel’s unleashed. No one, except Vogel himself.

  “What’s Vogel planning on doing, Lukas?”

  He eyes me with derision. “Read the Mage Council archives, Elloren. He’s quite clear about what he’s planning to do.” Lukas’s nostrils flare, his jaw ticking as he looks back out over the base. “Elloren,” he says, suddenly almost sounding hesitant. “I might have been wrong about Fallon Bane.”

  Shock lashes through me. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s healing. And her air and water powers are quickening. She’s starting to be able to access her other elemental powers, as well. Which means Vogel just might have his Black Witch. And the Icaral of Prophecy is a tiny, helpless baby. So, we have Fallon. And this,” he says, waving his hand over the base. “We have the Alfsigr Elves as our allies, and more dragons than we’ve ever had before.”

  He stares at me with stone-cold sobriety. “We’re going to mow over the entire Western and Eastern Realms. I could go east tomorrow, Elloren. And I could not change what’s coming.”

  Horror laps at me, but I battle against its grip. “Lukas, are you really content to be part of this nightmare?”

  Lukas sets his eyes back on the base, the tree-torches guttering around us. His voice is pitched low with struggle when it comes. “I don’t know, Elloren.”

  I’m stunned by his sudden honesty. The urge to be equally honest with him rises in me. To voice to him what I can voice to no one else.

  “Lukas...there’s a lot of power rising in my affinity lines. I felt it when we flew in over the wilds. We both did.” I look out over the base, remembering the intoxicating thrill of the power, and clasp my fingers around the Snow Oak pendant, my fire lines rousing in response. “The power... It felt good. Too good. And that scares me.”

  I turn to face Lukas and release the pendant, and the fire recedes to a dull ember. “I don’t want to be like my grandmother.”

  Lukas turns to face me and reaches up to caress my cheek, his touch featherlight. “Fast to me. I understand your struggle. And I don’t judge you for it.”

  We hold each other’s gaze for a brief moment, our branches reaching for each other.

  Then he steps closer and pulls me gently into his arms. Light as gossamer, he kisses the base of my neck, his lips rousing my fire lines with a heated longing that tingles straight through me.

  “Fast to me, Elloren,” he murmurs again, coaxing me to give in to his hypnotic draw. “The world is always in conflict. We could use our power to secure a place for ourselves in it.”

  Our power?

  A small edge of confusion cuts through his sensual spell. “How can my power be of any use?”

  “I can draw on it.” Lukas trails kisses along my jaw, his fire caressing my lines.

  “You can...draw on my power?” I ask breathlessly.

  “A bit.” Lukas’s fingers skim down my back, a delicious shiver chasing his caress.

  I swallow hard, my mind suddenly a whirl. “Is that why you want to fast to me?”

  “No,” he says as his lips brush against mine, his fire rippling through me. “There’s a bond between us, Elloren. I know I’m not the only one who feels it.” He draws me closer and brings his lips to mine, sending his heat straight through me in a provocative rush.

  I gasp as a delicious tension ignites inside me, and Lukas’s kiss deepens.

  “Lukas,” I say as his pianist fingers knot in my hair and he kisses along my neck, “if we can combine our power...we could use it not just for ourselves...but to fight Vogel.”

  He draws back a fraction, his eyes full of silken darkness. “I don’t know that I want to, Elloren.”

  A sudden clarity overtakes me.

  This is it, right here. The lure of darkness.

  I step back and slowly but firmly extricate myself from Lukas—from this power and its seductive spell. This isn’t something to be drawn into. This is something to fight against. Both inwardly and outwardly. Even if the only other alternative is to be powerless.

  “Take me back, Lukas,” I tell him, shutting this down. “I think I’ve seen enough.”

  * * *

  Lukas flies me back to the barren, snow-encrusted field without a word.

  A military carriage is waiting for me when we arrive. Lukas helps me down from the dragon’s back and gives me a reproachful look. Then he wordlessly mounts the dragon and wings away into the pitch-black winter night.

  A soldier silently escorts me to the carriage. I climb inside, and we set off toward the lights of the University, the dark forest looming through the window as a cyclone of troubled emotion storms through me.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  IVORY WINGS

  It’s well past midnight when the carriage finally arrives back at the North Tower. I trudge wearily up the hill toward my lodging, hugging the edge of the wilds, acutely aware of the trees drawing back from me.

  Black Witch.

  I slow to a halt, suddenly distraught. So many terrible things have happened already, and now, my very blood seems to be slipping into darkness.

  And I’m powerless to stop it.

&
nbsp; I roughly pull off my Snow Oak necklace, breaking the chain, and throw it to the ground, not wanting any part of this wretched power. I reach down and pull the wand from my boot, imagining it to be the true White Wand of myth. A pure force for good, bringing hope to all of Erthia.

  Despair swells inside me.

  Why don’t you help us? I rage at the wand, the stars, the sky. Why are you letting all of this happen? Why are you letting cruelty win? If there really is a force for good, where are you?

  But the wand is quiet in my hand. It remains a smooth white stick, nothing more, in the silence of the night. I take a long, shuddering breath, a hot tear streaking down my chilled cheek.

  It’s no use. We’re all alone.

  I listlessly turn to continue up the hill, and my gaze is drawn up, instantly transfixed.

  Two Watchers are flying in lazy circles around the North Tower.

  They float on the wintry night air, the iridescent birds spiraling like gently falling leaves.

  And then they simply disappear.

  I slow to a stop, everything dark and still and silent.

  Listen.

  The word crystallizes in the back of my mind, like a hidden whisper.

  * * *

  I rush up the spiraling stairs to the top floor of the North Tower, filled with a nonsensical, amorphous hope. Hope in the face of the insurmountable walls of darkness. Hope borne on ivory wings.

  I push open the door to our room and burst inside, lit up with anticipation. I carefully scan the room, expecting to see something.

  My senseless hope withers. Our lodging looks much the same as it always does. Marina is curled up by the fire as usual, watching me with a weary expression.

  I let out a long, deflated sigh as I regard her in turn, the reflected firelight dancing in her long, silver hair.

  Ariel and Wynter are gone, as they so often are lately, probably tending to Naga with Andras. Diana is most likely studying in the archives with Jarod or off with Rafe somewhere, and Ariel’s chickens are quietly roosting on her bed. Her raven is absent, probably flown off to be with her.