The Iron Flower

by Laurie Forest

  I kiss him just below his jaw, and his breathing deepens, his fire flaring so riotously hot it raises a prickling line of heat straight down my spine.

  Then I bring my lips toward his.

  Yvan’s hands abruptly come to my arms, muscles tensed, holding me at bay. “We can’t do this.” His voice is ragged.

  I blink up at him, hurt and confused and completely at a loss. “Why?”

  He swallows hard, his gaze scorching. “If I kiss you,” he says, his voice low and rough, “there is no way I’ll ever be able to let you go.”

  “Then don’t let me go,” I say fiercely, his fire grasping at mine with ardent heat.

  “A kiss... It isn’t a simple thing for me,” Yvan says haltingly. “There’s...power in it.”

  I’m thrust into a deeper confusion. “Is this a Fire Fae trait?”

  “Oh, no,” he says bitterly. “It’s something uniquely my own.”

  “Yvan...”

  “If I kiss you,” he says, struggling to find the right words, “it will...bind us.”

  “What do you mean? Bind us how?” That secret pain again—I can see it in his eyes. “Yvan, please. You need to be honest with me.”

  “I can’t,” he agonizes, his hands rigid on my arms. “There’s no happy ending for us, Elloren. There are things...things you don’t know...that you can never know. I’m dangerous to everyone you love...to everyone I love, as well.”

  “I don’t care that you’re Fae!” I cry, trying to free my arms from his viselike grip, but he holds on tight.

  “I’m not just Fae!” he snarls.

  I’m swept up in a sudden vortex of bewilderment. “What do you mean?”

  Yvan releases me abruptly and takes a step back, his fire an incandescent storm.

  “Elloren,” he finally says, his voice coarsened with finality. “If for nothing else but the safety of our families, we cannot give in to this. I know we both want to, but we can’t. And I’m sorry I keep drawing you in.” Golden fire lights his eyes, his expression wildly distraught. “I wish things were different, but there is no changing them. Find someone else. Anyone you want. Anyone but me.”

  And then he walks away, his pace brisk, his fire whipping back toward me in violently discordant tendrils.

  My throat tightens with sorrow as I watch him stalk away from me, rebellious tears welling in my eyes.

  I only want you, I want to rage at him from clear across the night-darkened field. Tell me what you’re struggling with, Yvan. Let me help you. Whatever it is.

  Tell me what you’re hiding from all of us.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  BRUISED SKY

  Three days later, Diana and I sit near a bonfire in the center of the Amaz military base, the flames spitting sparks that arc up through the sky. Soldiers in full battle gear fill the clearing, preparing horses and calling out directives to each other in the Urisk dialect that’s common here.

  The torchlit base is in the same valley as Cyme, but on the outskirts of the city, with a heavily fortified rune-barrier keeping civilians clear of the area. This mission isn’t something that the Amaz will be heralding for all to hear—they’re keeping it secret even from their own people. Queen Alkaia is betting that the Gardnerians won’t bother to retaliate after the Selkie rescue, since the Mage Council is already gearing up to end the Selkie trade in their own horrific way.

  I pray that she’s right.

  One of the soldiers calls out a loud command, and all the others immediately grow silent and still, a crackling tension suddenly vibrating on the air. Diana and I rise to find the focus of everyone’s attention.

  The soldiers to our far right quietly part as Valasca strides forward in dark armor, her controlled movements radiating a bold, dominant grace. The soldiers raise rune-marked palms out to her in silent tribute.

  Marina and Alder enter the clearing behind Valasca, both of them dressed in rune-marked battle armor, like the rest of the soldiers. I’m amazed at how much Marina has changed in the short time she’s spent with the Amaz. She holds her head high, radiating power and confidence. Rune-blades are strapped all over her limbs, and her silver hair throws off a scarlet shimmer in the ruby torchlight.

  Marina’s gaze meets mine, and a fierce look of unity passes between us as she takes her place to Valasca’s left, Alder flanking Valasca on the right.

  Then Queen Alkaia enters the camp, escorted by Alcippe, the huge warrior’s rune-axe strapped to her back. Marina, Alder and Valasca lower themselves to one knee before the queen, and every soldier follows suit. I drop down to my knee as well, overcome with gratitude for the Amaz gathered here, and also grateful that Queen Alkaia has allowed Diana and me to be present when they leave and when they return.

  Queen Alkaia places her hands on Valasca’s bowed head and intones the Goddess’s blessing, then motions for everyone to rise. She pulls Marina down slightly and kisses her on both cheeks.

  The soldiers mount their horses, and when Valasca raises a hand, the entire world pauses, my breath suspended in my throat. Then she throws down her hand, and they’re off, sounding like thunder. I catch a glimpse of a rune-road appearing in the distance, cutting straight through the base of the Spine. They ride out onto it and abruptly disappear into the stone.

  * * *

  Diana and I are surrounded by silence, and I feel as if a great wave has come and gone. Only a few soldiers remain, quietly seeing to the base’s upkeep. The Amaz horses are rune-marked for speed, but still, it will be many hours before they return. Diana and I exchange a fraught glance, and I take a seat by the fire once more, hunkering down for the long wait.

  The hours pass, Diana pacing tirelessly while I poke at the fire with a long stick. I attempt conversation with her a few times, but she simply grunts at me and keeps pacing, so I abandon the effort. I know Diana doesn’t want to be stuck here with me—she wants to be out rescuing the Selkies with the Amaz, and this waiting is pure torture for her.

  And so, we bide our time, Diana pacing and me worrying the fire with my stick, united in our harried silence throughout the long night.

  * * *

  Dawn eventually comes, clear and cool, the colors like a raw bruise dealt by the fleeing night sky. The damp morning chill wraps cold tendrils around me, working its way under my cloak, the bonfire long since died down to embers.

  Marina and the Amaz finally return as the sun begins to climb higher in the sky. Everyone looks stoic and weary, the previous night’s violence still echoing in their bloodstained clothing and jaded gazes. Many of the soldiers are on foot and leading their horses, most of the animals carrying two or more Selkies.

  One horse carries two motionless bodies wrapped tightly in cloth. Horrified, I realize these must be the two broken Selkies—the ones whose skins had been destroyed. Marina had instructed the Amaz to put an end to their suffering, that there was no saving them now, and that death was their only hope.

  It was one thing to hear of this, but quite another to be faced with the reality of it, and the barbarity of it all hits me with crippling strength.

  Alcippe shoots me a look of pure, withering rage as she passes, gripping her rune-axe, and her look hollows me out, leaving me defenseless and ill-prepared for the misery about to pour in like an undertow.

  Unexpectedly, Alcippe lunges for me, teeth gritted and bared. “Look at them, Gardnerian,” she snarls. “Look!”

  And I do, with mounting devastation, as silver-haired women trail into the clearing. The pain of their abuse is etched deeply on their faces in so many different ways. Some look like their anger could overwhelm them at any moment, their heads whipping around as if debating where to attack first. Many appear horribly beaten down, the light stripped from their eyes, their heads hung low, feet dragging. Others seem terrorized, their movements frantic and nervous, as if any loud sound might send them running for cover. A
nd a few seem to be in total shock, like one very young girl guided by two older Selkies, her eyes blank and traumatized, staring out into nothingness.

  The girl drops to the ground, hugs her knees to her chest and rocks herself, refusing to get up. A tall soldier kneels down in front of her and talks to her softly, her strong hand on the girl’s back. The two older Selkies also kneel down to the girl’s level, all of them trying in vain to comfort her as the child looks out into nothing, straight through the women around her.

  “Look at her!” Alcippe growls at me, motioning toward the girl. I open my mouth to respond, but I can’t speak. It’s all too horrifying for words.

  “How old does she look?” Alcippe demands. I try to speak again, to no avail. “How old, Gardnerian?”

  “Twelve,” I manage to croak out.

  “You would not believe where we found her, what the men of your kind were doing to her!”

  Alcippe doesn’t need to hit me with her rune-axe. The weight of this slams into me mercilessly all on its own. The shame of it presses down, threatening to suffocate.

  “I tell you this, Gardnerian,” Alcippe grinds out, her eyes wild with rage, “if I am ever face-to-face with any of your men, even the ones you call your friends, the ones you call your brothers, I will slice them in two. This is why the Goddess tells us to cast them out at birth. To live apart from them. To be stronger than they are. Because even the most harmless male baby—this is what he will grow up to do! Look at her!”

  I force myself to look again. The Amaz and the two Selkies are trying to gently cajole the now-trembling girl to her feet. Alcippe strides over to where the girl sits and, without hesitation, picks the child up in her strong, muscular arms and carries her toward the shelter of a circular, rune-covered military tent.

  I want to call after Alcippe, to tell her that not all men are like this, but at this moment, surrounded by so much misery, the words feel empty and false in my throat. Then Marina enters the clearing, her arm wrapped tightly around a young girl who clings to her as they walk. Her sister—the girl from Wynter’s pictures.

  Marina’s head turns toward me, her expression blaring outrage. Our eyes meet with quiet devastation before she and her sister disappear into a huge tent with the others.

  * * *

  The Amaz care for the Selkies throughout the day and into the evening, and I stumble about, trying to help as best I can.

  I work well into the night, bringing food, scrubbing plates and pots. Feeling close to collapse, I feel Diana’s gentle hand on my arm, and I let her lead me away to a communal sleeping tent. Once there, she leads me to a bedroll and covers me with a thick felt blanket. Then she curls up next to me and encircles me in her warm arms.

  I sob into her chest, drowning in the deep, visceral disgust over what I’ve seen and the stories I’ve heard, feeling like I never want to see another man again.

  “They should give them their skins,” I cry. “Not make them wait until they bring them back to the ocean. They should give their skins back and let them massacre as many Gardnerians as possible.”

  “Shhh,” Diana tells me, stroking my hair. I cry and cry, my eyes eventually so swollen it feels natural to shut out what’s left of the light. And I continue to cry until sleep claims me.

  * * *

  “Elloren.”

  I feel a hand on my shoulder, rocking me.

  Marina.

  I sit up, startled.

  “We’re all leaving,” she says, crouched down beside me. She takes in my swollen eyes, her brow tensing as she briefly glances toward a solemn Diana.

  “So, this is goodbye?” My heart twists at the thought of never seeing her again. She gives a small, sad smile and nods. I fall into her arms, my hand stroking her water-like hair. “I’ll miss you, but I’m glad you finally get to go home. I hope you find a way to stop all this forever.”

  “The Amaz have given us runes,” she tells me as she sits back and pulls a rune-stone from her pocket. Its ebony surface is marked with a looping scarlet rune. “They believe we’ll be able to use these to break the spell that pulls us to shore.”

  “Good,” I tell her, her form wavy through my tears.

  Diana and I accompany Marina outside. It’s late afternoon and overcast, spitting a light rain that probably carries an icy chill outside of the rune-warmed valley. Valasca is on horseback and calling out orders as Alcippe, Freyja and a host of other women help over a hundred Selkies onto horses in front of their armed Amaz protectors. Large sacks filled with what I assume are the Selkies’ skins are tied to several horses, those mounts and their riders surrounded by heavily armed guards.

  I spot Queen Alkaia approaching through the crowd. Valasca rides over to the queen and leans down from her mount, listening intently and nodding repeatedly as the queen quietly speaks to her.

  “Marina,” Alder calls out as she strides toward us. She’s in full battle gear, her posture reed straight, and she’s leading two horses. A slim young Selkie girl walks beside Alder, holding tight to her arm.

  Marina’s sister.

  I reflexively attempt a smile at the girl Marina has named Coral in the Common Tongue, but my smile falters. There’s trauma in Coral’s eyes, which seem almost pinned into a widened state.

  Marina motions to Alder to give her a moment. Then she turns to me, and my eyes well up, my throat stitching tight. I hug her one more time, and she kisses my forehead, my tears spilling over my cheeks. She holds my gaze for a long moment, then turns to Diana and embraces her, as well. “Goodbye, Diana Ulrich.”

  “Goodbye, Marina the Selkie,” Diana says, stepping back and grasping Marina’s arms. “It has been an honor to know you.”

  Marina’s eyes take on a look of longing as her gaze is drawn west. “It will be good to meet with the ocean after all this time. To be home again.”

  “I understand,” Diana says. “It is like this for us. With the forest.”

  Marina nods. “Goodbye, my friends.” She takes one long, last look at us. “I will never forget you.”

  Sadness hollows me out as I watch them go, Diana standing beside me, and I’m overcome by a fierce urge to go with them. To meet with the ocean and be pulled down into its icy blackness—and disappear from the Western Realm forever.

  * * *

  A dark depression claims me upon my return to the North Tower, and I let it pull me under. I retreat to my bed, refusing to eat or drink, avoiding the others. I only want to lie there and cry.

  “What’s wrong with the Gardnerian?” Ariel asks Diana, her wings figeting.

  “She’s upset about what was done to the Selkies,” Diana tells her, “by her own people.”

  Ariel snorts in response. “Should come as no surprise.”

  “You weren’t there,” Diana counters. “It was very bad.”

  “I didn’t have to be there to know how bad it was,” Ariel snipes back.

  “You were right,” I say to Ariel, my voice flat. “Gardnerians are evil. And I’ve got their evil magic pulsing through my lines. I’m evil. You were right to try and drive me out my first night here.”

  My statement is met with silence, and I continue to cry late into the night.

  I’m thinking on how the Gardnerians should be completely obliterated from the face of Erthia when I feel something warm being gently placed beside me.

  One of Ariel’s chickens.

  “Let her roost near you,” Ariel says, her voice sharp and unfriendly. “It’s...soothing.”

  The small bird is warm, and she’s making a gentle cooing sound that’s oddly comforting.

  I turn over to find Ariel sitting beside me, her brow deeply furrowed, her black wings flapping rhythmically in agitation.

  “Why are you being nice to me?” I ask her, my voice hoarse and my nose stuffed shut.

  Ariel stares at me for a long moment, strug
gling with the answer. “I’m not,” she finally snaps. She gets up and goes back to her side of the room, sitting down on her bed with her wings wrapped tight around herself. “I just want you to shut up so I can get some sleep.” She lies down and angrily turns her back to me.

  But I’m too stunned to cry anymore.

  I reflect for a moment on how comfort sometimes comes from the oddest places, from the least likely people—like an Icaral, in spite of herself, choosing to offer comfort to the granddaughter of Carnissa Gardner.

  Life is truly strange. And very confusing.

  I put my arm around the soft chicken, its warmth and rhythmic breathing eventually cutting through my misery and lulling me to sleep.

  PART FOUR

  MAGE COUNCIL

  RULING

  #336

  All Selkies coming to shore in the Western Realm are to be immediately executed.

  Aiding or abetting Selkies will be grounds for imprisonment.

  CHAPTER ONE

  IRON

  Three days pass, and amazingly, the world remains at wary peace. We’re all braced for the Gardnerian military to retaliate in some way for the Selkie raid.

  So, we wait for it. And wait. And wait.

  But...nothing.

  And then the Mage Council holds an emergency meeting.

  The next day, Tierney and I watch as a Verpacian soldier nails a wanted posting to a lamppost, the edges of the parchment flapping as they’re buffeted by the strong wind. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and I glance up at the churning clouds—a dark herald of the stormy weather we’ll all need to get through before we have any chance of stepping into true spring.

  When the soldier walks off to hang another across the street, Tierney and I tentatively approach the lamppost. My heart thuds against my chest as we read the stark warning that Selkies are running loose in the Western Realm, the vicious seal-creatures lying in wait to kill Gardnerians and Verpacians.

  Tierney pales as she scans the parchment. “The Selkies are all safe,” I remind her under my breath. “This doesn’t matter.”