The Iron Flower

by Laurie Forest

  She’s now perched on the windowsill directly opposite the door, perfectly still, her violent amber eyes fixed on Lachlan Grey.

  The Gardnerians seem oblivious, talking among themselves in the hallway, completely ignoring her and unaware of her swift, predatory movement. Her gaze meets mine for just a moment before Commander Grey slams the door shut.

  “Kamitra, I want a lock placed on this door,” he demands.

  As if that could keep her in.

  “And I want guards posted in the hallway.”

  As if they could fight her off.

  “Very well, Lachlan,” Commander Vin capitulates. “We will post a joint guard.”

  I’m numb and dazed and want to scream, all at the same time.

  But I don’t scream. Instead, I follow them outside, through the throngs of Gardnerian, Verpacian, Vu Trin and Elfhollen soldiers.

  The number of Gardnerian and Vu Trin soldiers has more than tripled in size and covers the entire field.

  Newly arrived Elfhollen guards have brought their families with them, and I catch the eye of a silver-eyed Elfhollen girl in the now steady stream of Elfhollen refugees passing by, many with owls on their shoulders or winging overhead. The little girl and her mother look stressed and like they’ve quickly pulled together as many of their possessions as they could, each of them wearing multiple sweaters and cloaks. They quickly disappear into a protective throng of both Elfhollen and Vu Trin soldiers.

  Thunder cracks and lightning flashes in the sky above.

  Both sides are erecting tents all over the field—dark, angular canvas tents on one side for the Gardnerians, and circular, rune-marked tents on the other for the Vu Trin. And in the middle stands the North Tower, where my friends...

  No.

  Where my sister and brother are now prisoners. Where they’re no longer seen as people, but as dangerous weapons.

  Two pawns in the middle of a war.

  I follow Commander Grey down the center of the field as an overwhelming grief swells in my chest and tears well up in my eyes.

  Dead. Almost all of the Lupines are dead, and everyone’s hopes and dreams are dead with them. My brother will never take Diana as his mate in front of all her family and friends. He’ll never join her pack, his true people. And Andras will never be part of a pack that accepts him as family.

  All the Fae children and the Gardnerian families who’ve rescued them will be discovered by the Gardnerians and killed. And Yvan and his mother, they’ll have no place of refuge. Like the other Fae, there will be no safety for them, nowhere to run.

  Aislinn will be fasted to Randall and forced to stay in Valgard. And I will no doubt be dragged to Gardneria and fasted against my will to someone I can never love.

  No. Now is not the time to think on these things.

  I roughly wipe away the tears.

  Andras was right.

  There’s no time to grieve. That will have to come later.

  We have to get them out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BATHE HALL

  I’m met by two Gardnerian soldiers at the edge of the North Tower’s field. One is bearded and brawny and glowers at me through flinty eyes. The other is young, smooth-faced and hawkish, with pale green eyes and a level, predatory stare.

  “We’ve been sent to accompany you to your new lodgings, Mage Gardner,” the bearded soldier tells me, his stance domineering. “We’ll be acting as your personal guard, at the direction of your aunt.”

  My pulse quickens. Everything about this shouts confinement and control. “I need to find my brothers,” I inform them, forcing calm.

  “They’ve been arrested, Mage,” the bearded soldier says, his expression stony. “One for assaulting a fellow Mage. The other for pulling his wand on a Mage.”

  All the blood drains from my face.

  Tight-lipped, he hands me a rectangular block of parchment, still folded from its rune-hawk flight. A vein of lightning streaks across the sky as I unfold the letter with trembling hands.

  My Dearest Niece,

  I received word via rune-hawk of the dangerous situation unfolding at the University’s North Tower. As you know, I’ve been holding lodging for you in Bathe Hall for some time, so I am having you brought there immediately.

  I have also been in touch with Lukas Grey. He has agreed to place you directly under his personal protection once he arrives. Until then, I have arranged for you to be under the close watch of two guards. They will accompany you everywhere until you are safely reunited with Lukas.

  Your Devoted Aunt,

  Vyvian

  I refold the paper, my mind a cacophony of turmoil.

  “You need to come with us now, Mage Gardner,” the bearded guard says, more forcefully this time.

  Distraught and clearly out of options, I follow my new guards through the winding University streets, toward the very southern edge of the city.

  Far away from the North Tower.

  * * *

  My new lodging is sumptuous, and in the newly segregated Gardnerian section of the University.

  I follow my guards into the lavish Ironwood hall built in the traditional Mage style—no ivory Spine-stone, only wood and sanded trees and forest decor.

  The lodging hall is mostly deserted—my guards and I pass only a few harried Gardnerian scholars who are bundled up and lugging travel trunks.

  “What’s happening?” I ask the bearded guard.

  “They’ve shut down the University, Mage,” comes the stern reply.

  My guards unlock the door to my lodging and position themselves on either side of it. My hand trembling, I open the broad door, the dark wood exquisitely carved with flowing vines, and step into a cloakroom.

  Velvet cushioned benches are set into the Ironwood walls on either side, and there’s a line of brand-new cloaks, each finer than the next, hanging from a row of iron hooks. One is lined with black fox fur. Another is fashioned entirely from ebony mink. A row of new boots sits under a bench, four pairs of new shoes under the other.

  I pass under an archway of dark branches and step into a circular parlor with a lit fireplace. The logs crackle and spit up tiny, glittering sparks. More sanded Ironwood trees are set into the walls, with bookshelves placed between their expansive trunks, already stocked with new, leather-bound tomes with gilded lettering on their spines.

  An entire apothecary library—one that rivals the selection in the Gardnerian Athenaeum.

  Emerald velvet-cushioned chairs and a divan are arranged near the fireplace, as well as a table set with a steaming tea service, a tower of pastries and a vase of bloodred roses.

  My aunt’s signature flower.

  In a grief-muddled haze, I wander into the adjacent glass conservatory, each windowpane edged with a stained-glass Ironflower design. The conservatory looks out over the lodging hall’s central gardens, with a grove of Ironwood trees in the center.

  Black-lacquered planters line the sills of the conservatory, full of living Ironflowers. The glowing blooms suffuse the storm-darkened conservatory with a sapphire glow, and even the rug beneath my feet is patterned with a torrent of Ironflower blossoms.

  I test the locks on the windows, jiggling them as hard as I can as my sense of being under siege bears down on me.

  No give.

  Two unfamiliar Gardnerian soldiers suddenly appear down the garden path, through the grove of Ironwood trees. One of the soldiers catches my eye, and I can see by the gruff, watchful look he gives me that I have more guards than just the two outside my door.

  My claustrophobic alarm mounts. Feeling horribly exposed, I flee the glass room and escape through the parlor into my windowless bedroom. As I cross the threshold, I freeze in astonishment.

  On the canopied bed, laid out over its deep green quilt, are a series of brand-new tunic and skirt sets, ea
ch more luxurious than the next.

  The black silk of one is outrageously awash with scarlet blessing stars embroidered in glistening thread. The stars are splayed over the silk like a ruddy constellation, rubies shimmering around the stars.

  The next set is covered in whorls of emeralds, the gems thickening at the edges of the garment and glittering spectacularly. A third is delicately embroidered with deep green leaves, the neckline of the tunic cut scandalously low.

  And there’s another Ironflower dress.

  She knows, I realize. Somehow, she must know how much Lukas loved the shockingly brazen Ironflower dress I wore to the Yule Dance.

  Because this dress rivals my Yule dress in its sheer flouting of all Gardnerian convention. The elegant black velvet tunic and skirt are embroidered with dark Ironwood trees that root at the base of the skirt and explode into a riot of Ironflowers on the tunic, each blossom sewn with phosphorescent sapphire thread.

  Aunt Vyvian’s keeping me here in Verpax City for one reason, I realize, stunned and appalled. To keep me in the path of Lukas Grey.

  I flinch at a pounding knock at the door.

  “Rune-hawk message for you, Mage,” the bearded guard’s rough voice booms through the closed door.

  On unsteady legs, I go to the door and open it. His pitiless eyes bore down on me, and I force myself to hold his cold glare. He stiffly hands me another folded letter that’s marked with the dragon seal of the Fourth Division Base. I take it from him and shut the door. Then I return to the secluded bedroom, unfold the note and read.

  Elloren,

  I’ll be in Verpacia this eve. I’ll send for you when I arrive.

  Lukas

  Thunder booms overhead.

  A blistering rage I can barely contain swells up and crashes through me with devastating force.

  The Lupines are dead. Almost all of them murdered. And now, Lukas and Aunt Vyvian are using the slaughter of an entire people—of Diana and Jarod’s entire family—to advance my wandfasting to a member of the military that committed this heinous crime.

  All of a sudden, I can’t think. I can’t breathe. My head pounds along with my pulse, and bright lights crackle in my vision. My knees buckle, and I slide down, bumping against the bed’s edge as I make clumsy contact with the lush rug beneath me. My breath comes in uncontrolled, staccato bursts as I throw back my head and cry.

  * * *

  I’m curled up, sobbing in a tight ball on the floor when I hear a door click open and the sound of light footsteps in the entrance foyer, then the parlor.

  Alarmed, I lift my head as Tierney’s stern face comes into view and emotion blasts through me.

  “Tierney,” I croak out. “They let you in?”

  She falls to her knees before me as her tight, stoic expression collapses. We grasp onto each other, our foreheads pressed together as tears fall between us and mingle on our dark skirts.

  After a moment, Tierney sits back and roughly wipes away her tears, her expression shifting from one of profound grief to a mask of grim endurance. We hold each other’s gaze, the silence between us weighed with devastation.

  “How did you get past my guards?” I ask, bewildered.

  Tierney’s frown deepens, and she glances distractedly at her white Vogel armband. “My father is active in the Crafters’ Guild. I tossed around a few names.”

  “My brothers have been arrested,” I tell her, my voice breaking.

  Her grave stare doesn’t waver. “I know. They’ve been taken into military custody. They’ll likely be tried for attacking those military apprentices.”

  “Ancient One.” I drop my head into my hands as panic whirls through me.

  “The scholar Rafe attacked—he’s the son of Mage Nochol Tarkiln, head of the Merchants’ Guild.”

  Fury rises in me, red-hot, cutting clear through my panic. “I’m glad Rafe attacked him,” I lash out in a snarl. “I wish he’d torn his head clear off.”

  My anger rapidly evaporates into a stifling fear for my brothers. I force a long, quavering breath. “I have to help them, Tierney. Where were they taken?”

  “The Fourth Division Base.” Tierney’s eyes are heavy with import. “Lukas’s command.” She lets this new piece of information sink in, and a look of complicit understanding passes between us.

  “Lukas will be summoning me later,” I tell her.

  She gives a tense nod. “Elloren, everything’s changed out there. The entire power structure of the Western Realm has shifted overnight.”

  I can feel it, too, this new, terrifying world pressing down on us. “I know.”

  “I’ve found out as much as I’ve been able to,” she says. “The Gardnerians have given the Verpacian Council two choices—peaceful annexation or military action.”

  We’re silent for a fraught moment.

  “The Verpacians will cave,” I say, giving her a dark look. “There’s no fighting the Gardnerians now.”

  Tierney returns my jaded expression, her body stiffening as if braced for a blow. “The Verpacian Council has called an emergency session. They’re meeting right now.”

  My skin crawls with gooseflesh. I know what this means for Tierney and her family. What this will mean for everyone I care about.

  “Do you think they have their Black Witch?” I whisper. “Could Fallon have wrought this somehow? Lukas told me that he might have been wrong about Fallon and her level of power.”

  Tierney’s brow furrows. “Fallon’s abilities are said to be increasing, but this is a stunning level of power at work. And Lupines are immune to wand magic.” She shakes her head. “This is beyond anything the Realm has ever seen, Elloren.”

  Disquiet worms through me as I hold her grim stare.

  “I was told that Vogel’s coming,” Tierney says.

  I inwardly recoil from the name, remembering the dark tree that shudders into my vision whenever I’m around the Vogel, overcome by the sense of something shadowed about to envelop us all.

  “He’s to meet with the Vu Trin,” she says. “To negotiate what will happen to Jarod and Diana. Both sides want them—”

  “To create an army of shapeshifters,” I finish for her. “That’s what both Lachlan Grey and Kam Vin accused each other of wanting.”

  Tierney nods, biting nervously at her lip. “Yes. I don’t think the Gardnerians want to kill them.”

  “No,” I agree bitingly. “They just want to enslave them.”

  “Vogel is pulling the Fourth Division soldiers in to guard the North Tower,” she tells me. “They’ll be here by nightfall.” She gives me a weighted look. “You’ll need to press your advantage with Lukas when he arrives. And not just to help Diana and Jarod and to get your brothers out of prison. If Verpacia falls to the Gardnerians, Lukas will become a major power here.”

  She doggedly holds my stare, the unspoken hanging in the air between us.

  No, I inwardly protest. I cannot fast to him. Esptecially not now. Not after what the Gardnerians have done.

  “Have you seen Yvan?” I ask, an edge of cornered defiance in my tone.

  Tierney’s gaze narrows in, as if she’s reading the conflict suddenly raging inside me. “He’s guarding the kitchen workers.”

  “Did he get Ariel and Wynter to safety? They can’t be here, Tierney. If the Gardnerians take over Verpacia, they’ll round up all the Icarals and throw them in prison.”

  “They’re safe,” she assures me. “Yvan brought them to Cael and Rhys, and they’ve left Verpacia. Cael has an ancestral home in the extreme north of the Alfsigr lands. He’s taking them there.”

  Relief shudders through me. Thank the Ancient One. At least they got out.

  Tierney eyes me sidelong. “Yvan’s a bit desperate to get back to you. He found me. Asked me where you were. But it’s not safe for him to seek you out right now.”

 
“No,” I say bitterly. “Not with my new guard.”

  Tierney’s even stare doesn’t budge. “I think he’s in love with you.”

  Longing for Yvan flashes through me. “I know,” I tell her, pained. And I’m falling for him, too.

  “You need to let him go, Elloren.” Her voice is firm, but not without compassion. “He needs to go east. And you need to stay here and secure an alliance with Lukas Grey.” She takes in my stricken look and softens slightly. “I’m sorry, Elloren. But they’re going to fast you anyway—”

  “I can’t fast to him,” I cut her off, my voice suddenly rough with defiance. “Tierney, the Gardnerian forces murdered the Lupines. And I don’t even know what side Lukas is really on.”

  “Then find out,” she says, her voice severe, but her eyes conflicted. “Elloren...”

  “I know,” I say, fighting back the sting of tears. “I know that everything has changed. And I know my lineage puts me in a position with some power.”

  And I have to get my brothers out of prison and help Jarod and Diana escape from the North Tower.

  Tierney’s mouth tenses into a grim line. She glances around aimlessly and growls out a curse. “We need that blasted dragon. I hope she’s having fun gallivanting around the wilderness.”

  “Naga said she’d come back.”

  Tierney scowls. “Yeah, well, her timing could be improved.” She gets up and winces as she stretches against the constant pain in her back. Then she holds a hand out to me and nudges me into motion with a determined glare.

  I take her hand and rise, pushing back the misery.

  Pushing away thoughts of Yvan.

  Tierney’s eyes flick toward the elegant row of dresses on the bed. “Get cleaned up,” she says. “And put on one of those obscenely lavish dresses. Then we’ll get you ready to go meet with Commander Lukas Grey.”

  * * *

  I pull in a breath as Tierney laces up my opulent tunic and stare into the full-length oval mirror before me.

  “This is really more blue than black,” I comment, shocked by my reflected image. The dense, glowing Ironflowers dominate the black velvet in a way that doesn’t just push against the edges of Gardnerian respectability.