The Iron Flower

by Laurie Forest

  More silence.

  “What did you come here for, Yvan?”

  “Elloren rescued a Selkie.”

  Silence again, but more prolonged this time. “A Selkie.”

  “Yes.”

  “Wait, I know I heard you wrong. Did you say that Vyvian Damon’s niece rescued...a Selkie?”

  “Yes.”

  “From who?”

  “The Verpax University groundskeeper.”

  It’s unnervingly quiet again for a long moment. Then the door abruptly opens, and I jump back, looking up to find Clive in the doorway, glaring down at me.

  “I... I’m sorry...” I start to stammer.

  “Get in here,” he growls.

  I enter the room tentatively, unsure what to do next.

  “Sit down,” he orders brusquely, pointing at a chair. Yvan is leaning against a windowsill, his arms crossed in front of himself, watching Clive with an intense expression.

  Clive stares at me for a long moment as I sit down, as if sizing me up. “You stole a Selkie.”

  “Freed a Selkie, yes,” I reply, straightening to meet his oppressive stare.

  “Holy Ancient One, you look like your grandmother.”

  “So, I’ve been told,” I coolly reply.

  He seems momentarily thrown. “It might be advisable for you to keep your face hidden when traveling in Keltania,” he warns. “Your grandmother wasn’t exactly well loved here.”

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “So, Elloren Gardner,” Clive says, unable to say my name without contempt seeping through, “what is it you want from me?”

  “The Selkies aren’t what everyone thinks they are,” I explain nervously. “Marina...the Selkie we rescued...she can talk.”

  Clive looks surprised for a moment. “Are you quite sure?”

  “Yes, quite.”

  His expression turns suspicious. “Selkies have been around for years. The Gardnerians’ dirty little secret. Why haven’t they bothered talking in all this time if they’re able to?”

  “Because it’s incredibly difficult,” I explain. “Speech through air is completely alien to them, and the sounds of our land languages are hard for them to make out. They speak against the resistance of water, not air.”

  “So why is your Selkie so gifted, then?”

  “Marina’s talented with languages. And she’s had the opportunity to live with people who have been kind to her,” I tell him. “It gave her time to learn the Common Tongue. She can speak it fluently now. She’s even picked up a fair bit of High Elvish.”

  “High Elvish?”

  “My roommate. She’s an Elf.”

  Clive turns to Yvan for verification.

  “An Elfin Icaral,” Yvan clarifies.

  His eyebrows fly up, and Yvan tells him about Ariel, as well. Clive turns back to me, clearly thrown. “So...this Selkie of yours can speak.”

  “We could let you meet her, prove it to you,” I offer.

  “Why is it so important for you to prove this to me?”

  This stops me dead in my tracks. I look to Yvan with confusion, so he steps in to explain. “Marina has a sister,” he says. “She’s been captured, as well. We want to rescue her, and the rest. All of them.”

  “You want to rescue all of the Selkies,” Clive repeats incredulous.

  “Yes,” Yvan says, his expression adamant. “Before Vyvian Damon convinces the Mage Council to have them all shot.”

  “And you want the Resistance to help you.”

  “Yes.”

  “You want the Resistance to throw its scant resources, with the Gardnerians massing on Keltania’s border, into freeing Selkies?”

  “Not all of your resources,” Yvan says stubbornly. “Some.”

  “The Gardnerians could invade us at any moment.”

  “They’re beating the Selkies,” I cut in, enraged. “Raping them!”

  “I’m well aware of what goes on with the Selkies,” Clive snarls.

  “They’re not animals,” I continue, undaunted. “They’re people, just like us—”

  “So are the people of Keltania!” he snipes back, baring his teeth. “But if we don’t hand over our entire country to Gardneria, your people are getting ready to slaughter us!”

  “The Resistance helped the Fae in the past,” I challenge him. “They helped the Urisk. The Selkies are people. Just like them.”

  “For years,” Clive says, eyes blazing, “I have thought that the Selkie trade is one of the most disgusting, despicable things I have ever seen in all my life.” He scrubs a hand over his face, looking furious. “But your government is about to march in here and enslave my entire country! So, I’m sorry that I can’t drop everything to rescue a few seal women, but unless the Selkies can help us fight the Gardnerians, they’re useless to me.”

  “Yvan said you were interested in justice!” I spit out.

  “I am. Justice for my people.”

  “And no one else?”

  For a moment, he looks ready to strike me, and perhaps the same worry enters Yvan’s mind as he steps toward me protectively.

  “I am really trying to treat you like the naive, sheltered Gardnerian princess you no doubt are,” Clive says coldly, “but if you push for the truth, you’re going to get it.”

  “Fine,” I snap back.

  “We have something very similar here, only it’s Urisk girls in addition to a few Selkies. And a fair number of our men frequent these...establishments.” He says the word with disgust. “Most of the men working for the Resistance won’t care about a bunch of Selkie whores. They don’t care about the Urisk girls, either.”

  “And are you one of these men?” I demand, disgusted and disillusioned. “Are you off raping Urisk girls and Selkies in your free time?”

  Yvan looks visibly ratttled.

  “No,” Clive says, his eyes full of warning. “I told you I think it’s despicable. But I’m a realist, Elloren Gardner.”

  “So, there’s no one, then,” I whisper, crushed by the injustice of it all. “No one who’ll help them. Only us.”

  Clive considers me for a moment. Yvan is peering out the window at nothing in particular, his face full of angry tension.

  “There might be someone who can help you,” Clive says, sounding hesitant.

  Yvan and I both turn to him. “Who?” we ask, almost in unison.

  “The Amaz.”

  Yvan and I exchange a look of surprise.

  “Go petition their queen,” Clive suggests. “Don’t bring any men, of course, unless you want to see them beheaded by rune-axes. Ask for Freyja. Tell her I sent you. Tell her privately. Don’t mention my name around the others.”

  “Who’s Freyja?” I wonder.

  Clive looks away, a bitter, melancholy smile on his lips. “An old friend.”

  She’s more than a friend. It’s clear from the expression that washes over his face when he says her name.

  “They’ll help you,” he says, looking out the window toward the forest, a faraway look in his eyes. “They can’t stand to see women abused in any way. It makes them very angry, and if there’s one group you don’t want to piss off, trust me, it’s the Amaz.”

  Clive turns back to regard me, and I can see something new in his eyes. He believes Yvan—that I’m different than he thought. “If you’re going to petition the Amaz,” he says, “you must be very careful to observe their protocol when approaching the queen. There’s no room for error on this. Do you know someone who can help you learn their customs?”

  Yvan tells him about Andras, and Diana and Jarod, as well.

  “Does your mother know about any of this?” Clive asks Yvan, a smile playing on his lips. “Last I heard, she was relieved that you were holed up at the University—quietly studying, staying out of trouble, worki
ng in the kitchens and faithfully sending every last extra cent you earn home to her.”

  “Most of that is true,” Yvan says cagily.

  “Except for the staying out of trouble part.”

  Yvan doesn’t answer him.

  Clive shakes his head and shoots Yvan a sidelong glance. “I wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall when you introduce her to your mother. Are you going to see her now?”

  “We’re going to stay there tonight,” Yvan tells him.

  “Well, then. Good luck.” Clive glances at me appraisingly. “This may not be...easy. For her to accept.”

  “My mother’s fair-minded,” Yvan insists.

  Clive’s jaw tightens, as if he wants to argue the point, but he holds back. I’m a bit stung by his doubts. I know it’s going to be hard for Yvan’s mother to meet me. But it was difficult for Clive, too, and he’s come around fairly quickly.

  Everything will be just fine.

  “Yvan,” Clive says, as if he’s just remembered something. “A dragon was stolen from a Gardnerian military base near that University of yours. You and your friends wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”

  My lungs stop working for a moment, and the muscles in Yvan’s neck tighten.

  “Because an unbroken dragon would be a very useful weapon,” Clive adds. “I’d certainly like to get my hands on it.”

  “That would be up to the dragon to decide,” Yvan says calmly, not meeting his piercing gaze.

  “Well, then,” Clive says, “I would respectfully ask the dragon if it likes the idea of the Gardnerians taking over the entirety of Erthia, killing or breaking every dragon in existence.”

  Yvan absently eyes the medicine shelves. “If I come across any dragons, I’ll relay the message.”

  Clive lunges forward and grabs Yvan’s arm. “Be careful, Yvan. The Gardnerians are smarter than you think. You’re all out of your league. I would cease to be a friend to your mother if I didn’t warn you of this.”

  Yvan glances down at Clive’s hand on his arm, then slowly looks back up at him, unintimidated. I remember the time Rafe grabbed Diana, and how she considered ripping his arm off. I’m struck by the certainty that Yvan, if he really wanted to, could do the same.

  “We’ll be careful,” Yvan assures him.

  Clive releases his arm. “Good.” His brow knits together as he glances toward me. “It was interesting meeting you, Elloren Gardner. I hope you don’t wind up getting yourself killed.” He turns back to Yvan. “Take care of yourself, Yvan. And good luck with your mother. You’re going to need it.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  DARK MAGIC

  Yvan’s home comes into view just as the last of the day’s light is slipping below the horizon. The warm glow emanating from the cozy, well-kept cottage contrasts sharply with the cold dark outside.

  Yvan signals to our mare, and she slows to an easy trot as we pass by his mother’s expansive gardens, covered up for the winter.

  We dismount and enter a small, tidy barn, stabling the mare alongside a dappled gray horse that whinnies happily when it catches sight of Yvan. As I unsaddle our horse and prepare some grain for her, Yvan makes a point of spending a few minutes with the gray gelding, an animal, he tells me, that he grew up with and raised from a foal.

  Then we make our way to his house, my heart pounding in anticipation.

  Things will be all right, I tell myself. Yvan said his mother is fair-minded.

  As we approach the cottage, Yvan seems to hesitate. I hug myself nervously, pulling my woolen cloak tight. The air is chill and damp, and it will only get colder now that the sun is down. I eye the fire-lit windows, yearning to go inside and get warm.

  Yvan turns to me, looking unsure. “Perhaps you should wait here, Elloren. I’ll speak to her for a moment before I introduce you.”

  “All right,” I agree, feeling increasingly apprehensive.

  Yvan walks up to the door and knocks as I stand in the shadow of a large oak tree, like some unwanted thing in hiding. A woman who is obviously Yvan’s mother opens the door. She’s him, only older and female. They have the same angular, beautiful face, the same riveting green eyes and the same long, lanky build. Only their hair is different, hers a rich, shockingly vibrant red to his brown.

  I wonder why Yvan told me he looks just like his father. It’s clear he takes after his mother completely.

  Yvan’s mother gives a start when she spots him, her two slender, graceful hands flying up in delight. She throws her arms around him in a warm embrace.

  I push back my cloak’s hood and start unwinding my scarf as I watch their joyful reunion. I shake out my hair as I prepare to introduce myself properly—my voice unmuffled by layers of fabric, my features unhidden, only the green glimmer of my skin still disguised. Yvan’s mother might as well see me for what I am right off. Best to get the shock over with.

  I desperately want to make a good impression on this woman, even more so than I did with Diana’s family, and my stomach twists and clenches as I wait.

  Yvan says something to his mother that I can’t fully make out, but I hear him mention my name. Her smile fades, replaced by a look of confusion. She turns her head in my direction, as if straining to peer into the darkness.

  Taking this as my cue to approach, I emerge from the shadows, my heart pounding hard against my chest. As I step closer, the light from inside their house spills over me.

  Yvan’s mother’s expression morphs into one of stunned horror, and she steps backward, almost losing her balance. “Yvan,” she gasps, one hand finding her throat, her eyes riveted on me. “What are you doing? Why is that...thing here with you?”

  Yvan glances over at me with confusion, as if to check that he and his mother are looking at the same person, so violent is her reaction. “She’s not a thing,” he says, placing a steadying hand on his mother’s arm. “She’s my friend.”

  Her head whirls around to face him. “Your friend?”

  “She has a name, Mother. It’s Elloren.”

  “Yvan, I must speak with you,” she says with frantic vehemence, her eyes darting toward me as if I’m an evil apparition, something terrifying back from the dead. “Alone. Now.”

  Yvan’s brow is knit tight as he sends me a look of concern. “Just give us a moment, Elloren,” he says kindly before following his mother into the house.

  The door shuts firmly behind them, cutting off most of the light and casting me in frigid shadows once more. It’s like Clive Soren all over again.

  But Clive quickly came around, I attempt to console myself.

  I wait for a moment, feeling cold and dejected, before summoning the courage to step onto their porch and linger by the closed door. Eavesdropping for the second time today makes me uncomfortable, but this is going badly, and I want to know how much worse it’s likely to get.

  “Have you given leave of your senses?” Yvan’s mother hisses. “Do you know what she is?”

  “I do,” he replies, his voice tight.

  “Do you realize how dangerous she is? How dangerous they all are? Why is she with you?” Her voice is filled with dark suspicion.

  “I know what you’re thinking. You’re mistaken.”

  “Please, Yvan, please tell me she’s not your lover.”

  Yvan hesitates for a moment before answering. “No, she’s not.”

  “Are you in love with her?”

  Again, he hesitates. “She’s my friend.”

  “Did I raise you to be such a fool? Do you have any idea what kind of dark magic flows through that girl’s veins?”

  I wince, all too aware of the dark power I feel whenever I’m around Lukas, but Yvan spits out an incredulous laugh. “She’s been wandtested, Mother. She’s a Level One Mage.”

  “You can’t be friends with that girl, Yvan,” she insists, her tone u
rgent, as if this is shaking her to the core.

  “I understand your concern—” Yvan starts, trying to reassure her.

  “You don’t understand anything!” she cries with startling ferocity, her words cutting into me like a whip. “They are monsters, Yvan! Monsters! They will do anything for power! For control! You have no idea what they’re capable of! You were just a child—”

  “She’s not anything like you think she is!”

  “How could you bring that vile creature to our home?”

  “She’s not a creature! If you knew her—”

  “What, you think you know her? You think she can be trusted?” She pauses for a moment, and when she speaks again, her voice is full of fear. “How much have you told her, Yvan? What does she know?”

  “Nothing. I’ve told her nothing.”

  I’m thrust into a deeper confusion.

  “Don’t you have any respect for the memory of your father?” Yvan’s mother rages.

  “She didn’t choose the family she was born into!” he vehemently counters. “I thought you, of all people, would look past her appearance and give her a chance.”

  “She is Carnissa Gardner’s granddaughter!”

  “She cannot help who she is! No more than I can!”

  “Even if, by some unlikely freak of nature, she’s not as monstrous as her relatives, her aunt sits on the Mage Council! She can’t stay here, Yvan. I can’t have her in my home!”

  “We have nowhere else to stay.”

  “You have a place to stay, Yvan. You always have a place here. But not that monster you’ve brought to our home. She will never set foot under this roof.”

  “Then we’ll find somewhere else to go.” His voice has grown hard as flint.

  “Yvan, send her away,” his mother pleads. “I’m sure she has more than enough money—”

  “No, she doesn’t. She works in the kitchens with me.”

  Yvan’s mother makes a contemptuous sound. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “When have I ever lied to you?”

  “Of all the young women you go to University with, you pick Carnissa Gardner’s granddaughter to be your lover—”

  Yvan lets out a bitter laugh at this. “Lover? I already told you that’s not the case. And please, tell me, Mother, exactly how am I supposed to have a lover?”