The Iron Flower

by Laurie Forest

  Diana opens the door.

  Valasca stands in the hall, but she’s completely altered from the last time we saw her. Her blue-streaked black hair is in the same short spikes, but she’s clad in Amaz battle gear—thin black armor covered with scarlet runes over a dark tunic and pants, a variety of blades strapped all over her body. Multiple black metallic rings adorn her face and ears, and thick kohl lines her eyes. Glowing runes mark the hilts of her weapons and their sheaths.

  Her stance is military erect, as is that of her cohort. Valasca’s tall companion pulls back the hood of her cloak, and a streak of astonishment jettisons through me.

  The young woman’s coloring is deep forest green, but her hair is ebony and her eyes are a dark Gardnerian green. She has long, gracefully pointed ears, and her skin shimmers emerald—similar to Gardnerian skin, only the sheen is dramatically heightened.

  Like Valasca, she’s heavily armed, but oddly so. A long bow hewn from irregular River Maple is strapped to her back, along with a quiver filled with a variety of arrows that look more like sharpened tree branches than traditional arrows. A few more branches are strapped to her belt, and I pick the grain of the bark out on sight. Rock Maple, Red Oak, Black Walnut.

  “This is Alder Xanthos,” Valasca says with cool formality. “She is a friend to the Selkies and we have come to discuss their rescue.”

  “You’re Fae,” Tierney marvels as she gapes at the tall stranger, barely noticing when one of her books slides off its haphazard pile and lands on the floor with a resounding thunk.

  “I am part Dryad,” Alder confirms. The cadence of her voice is serene and otherworldly, her accent melodic. She slowly pivots her head to peer at me. There’s a palpable stillness to her as she studies me for a long moment. “My forest has told me much about you, Elloren Gardner.”

  I frown at Alder Xanthos. “The forest mistakes me for the Black Witch,” I inform her starchly. “Which I’m not.”

  Her level stare doesn’t waver. “The trees say otherwise.”

  I let out a hard sigh. “If I was, in fact, the Black Witch, that would make rescuing the Selkies a fair bit easier, don’t you think?”

  She’s as still as timber, her eyes unblinking.

  Valasca curses under her breath and shoots her companion an impatient look. “Xan, unless the trees are marching out to save the Selkies anytime soon, perhaps we can ignore their opinion for the moment.” She turns back to me, eyes blazing with what looks like a sudden flare of defiance. “I wish to meet with your men.”

  Diana, Tierney and I look to each other with open astonishment. “Our men?” I clarify, cocking my head.

  A look of annoyance passes over Valasca’s face. “Yes,” she shoots back curtly. “The ones who visited the Selkie taverns.”

  “But I thought—”

  “Yes, I know,” she cuts me off. “But I think it would be useful to speak with them before we invade.”

  I study Valasca. She’s practically vibrating with unease, and I realize that she’s crossing over staunchly forbidden lines here. Alder, too. And that meeting with men could probably get them both in serious trouble.

  Perhaps even cast out of Amaz society.

  “We’ll find them for you,” I tell her. “They’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

  * * *

  We assemble in Andras’s new dwelling, an Amaz-style geometric dome lodging deep in the woods, and not far from Naga’s cave. A small iron stove in the center of his home pumps out warmth.

  Alder eyes the men and the logs smoldering in the iron stove with wariness as Valasca greets my brothers, Gareth and Yvan all in turn, rebellion sparking in her dark eyes. I’m stunned to see her shaking their hands—from what Amaz has told us, it’s flatly forbidden for the Amaz to touch men, unless they’re partaking of fertility rites, and they’re not supposed to make eye contact with them if they can help it. I’ve a flash of unsettled remembrance—of my mostly Gardnerian Mathematics class and professor refusing to pollute themselves by looking directly at Ariel. Of the Alfsigr and Gardnerian scholars averting their eyes from Wynter whenever she passes.

  This is the same kind of thing, I realize. And it’s good that Valasca is casting it off.

  Valasca approaches Andras last. She looks up at him, and we all still, a sense of momentous tension suddenly in the air. I’m acutely aware, as I’m sure we all are, of the fact that Valasca is a bridge to the people who have shunned Andras all his life.

  Valasca holds out her hand to him. “Well met, Andras Volya,” she says, her voice heavy with import.

  Andras takes her hand and holds on to it. He murmurs something in another language, formal in its cadence. Valasca’s head bobs in what looks like respectful acknowledgment as she repeats the phrase back to him.

  I catch Yvan’s eye, and a flash of mutual wonderment passes between us over this remarkable turn of events. His lips lift in a subtle smile that warms me.

  Andras tells everyone to make themselves comfortable, and Diana takes a seat off to the side, studying Alder in that calm, inscrutable way she has with people she’s quietly sizing up. Tierney sits down beside Andras, her eyes fixed on Alder with a palpable intensity, clearly stunned by her presence here—an unglamoured Fae in the Western Realm.

  A highly dangerous thing to be.

  I imagine that Valasca and Alder took a rather isolated route here to avoid Alder being summarily arrested, but I also know that the only border guards they might have encountered would be Vu Trin. And the Vu Trin stationed here in Verpacia are proving themselves to be increasingly aligned with the Fae, even though their government has ordered them to not provoke Gardnerian ire and to rigidly enforce the region’s unforgiving border rules.

  Yvan crosses the small, circular room and takes a seat beside me, and I’m instantly lit up by the decided nature of his action, my heartbeat deepening. He turns and our eyes meet, a quick rush of heat coursing through me. He’s so close, his shoulder almost touching mine—I can feel his warmth and smell that enticing fiery scent of his. I shift slightly, and the edge of my finger bumps lightly against his hand.

  A spark of heat races through my affinity lines as our smallest fingers curl around each other, both of us initiating the contact. Both of us complicit in this small rebellion.

  “All right. Here’s the situation,” Valasca says, and I pull part of my focus toward her, even as I remain heatedly aware of Yvan’s touch.

  Valasca sighs and rakes her fingers agitatedly through her spiky hair. “Queen Alkaia doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d be grateful if it could remain that way.” She grimaces at the floor and shakes her head, as if holding some internal debate. “I love my people, but they have some customs that border on flat-out stupidity. If I’m going to lead a military expedition to rescue the Selkies, it makes sense to actually speak with the people who have been in the places that are our targets. Even if they are men.”

  She pauses to glance up to the ceiling and lets out a string of oaths aimed at no one in particular. Then she glares hotly at all of us. “This type of foolishness is why the Gardnerians increased the size of their territory tenfold during the Realm War.”

  I’m momentarily dumbfounded, my hand pulling away from Yvan’s. “Did you say you’re leading the expedition?”

  She fixes me with an even stare. “Yes. I’m highly positioned in the Queen’s Guard.”

  I look at her with astonishment. “How high?”

  She considers me for a brief second before answering, one black eyebrow cocked. “I command it.”

  Holy Ancient One in the heavens above. “Is that why Alcippe backed down from you that night? The night she wanted to kill us?”

  Valasca lets out a quick sigh. “Alcippe may be stronger than me, but I’m rather good with a rune-blade. She was seriously outmatched.”

  “You could have taken her down with just that one ru
ne-blade?” I ask, my voice shrill.

  Valasca’s kohl-marked eyes narrow on me, glinting with amusement. “I could probably take down everyone in this room with just that one rune-blade.” She gestures loosely toward Diana with her thumb. “Except maybe the Lupine.”

  “I’m a Level Five Mage,” Trystan interjects, tapping his wand lightly. “I might give you a run for your money.”

  “I’m particularly good at deflecting magic with a blade,” Valasca casually informs him. “Even combined elemental spells.”

  “Well, all right then,” Trystan says, looking impressed.

  Confusion roils inside me. “But...you told me you were a goat herder.”

  “I am a goat herder,” Valasca says, an irritated edge to her tone. “And the commander of the Queen’s Guard.”

  It all falls into place—why Freyja chose Valasca to be my guard. Why Valasca was dressed so inconspicuously in Amaz lands. They wanted me to underestimate her.

  I frown darkly at Valasca. “They really thought I was that much of a threat?”

  She stares at me for a long moment, as if deliberating. “Yes, Elloren,” she finally says, an apologetic edge creeping into her tone. “They did. I should have told you of my position once I realized, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you weren’t a threat. I’m sorry for that.”

  Yes, you should have told me. Before we drank all that Tirag. And told each other so many private things.

  But none of that matters, I realize. She’s here. Breaking with her people’s ways. All to help Marina and her people.

  “You don’t need to apologize,” I tell her. “I’m grateful for what you’re doing. Thank you for going out of your way to help the Selkies.”

  Valasca raises her brow slightly and grows serious. “You don’t need to thank me, Elloren Gardner.” Her voice has become low and subdued. “The chance to stand up and fight against injustice... It is the highest gift the Goddess can bestow upon any of us.”

  I give her a slight smile and nod in agreement. Valasca returns my smile.

  “Do you want Mage backup when you set out to free the Selkies?” Trystan lightly inquires, but his gaze is steel hard. “I would be happy to accompany you. I find the idea of rendering one of those taverns into ash to be quite appealing.”

  Valasca’s shrewd eyes flick over the Level Five stripes on my brother’s military apprentice uniform. “Thank you for your offer, Trystan Gardner,” she says with a respectful dip of her head. “But the Amaz will not let men accompany our military.”

  Trystan holds Valasca’s even stare. “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

  “I do need your assistance in another way, however,” she tells him. “I need to know the rough layout of each tavern—where the skins are kept, how many guards there are, what kinds of weapons they have.”

  “The skins are in Elfin steel trunks,” Yvan puts in.

  “Which are locked,” Gareth adds. “And stored in locked rooms.”

  Valasca huffs out a dismissive sound. “We can blast through all of that.”

  “Every tavern has two or three Level Four Mages guarding the site,” Rafe tells her.

  Valasca nods thoughtfully. “We can cast a rune-net to dampen their power. That’s likely the first thing we’ll do. Tell me where the guards were posted.”

  Trystan, Rafe, Gareth and Yvan spend the next hour or so detailing where the storage rooms are, the times and days of the week when the fewest patrons and guards are likely to be at the taverns, along with a host of other logistical details.

  “How is Marina?” Gareth asks Valasca as their discussion draws to a close, a note of private pain in his voice. I know it’s beyond difficult for him to be losing the one person who truly understands who he is.

  “She is well,” Valasca assures him. “We have our best rune-sorceresses working with her. They’re attempting to create runes that the Selkies can use to break the spell that drags them to shore. This rescue needs to completely end the abuse of the Selkies once and for all.”

  “I want to fight with you,” Diana says to Valasca, her body tense with a predatory eagerness, frustration blazing in her amber eyes.

  “I know you do, Diana Ulrich,” Valasca replies. “But this is a dangerous move for my people. You’re the daughter of an alpha. Your involvement would have far-reaching political ramifications. Your father, as I understand it, is trying to avoid an all-out war for territory.”

  “There is no avoiding the fight to come,” Diana says, almost a growl. “And that land the Mage Council wants is Lupine land. Their Black Witch stole it from us during the Realm War, and we reclaimed it. It was never theirs.”

  It’s stark, hearing Diana utter the words “Black Witch,” and I’m chastened and saddened by this reminder of the unjust threats leveled against her people by mine.

  “Alder Xanthos,” Tierney unexpectedly blurts out, desperation stark on her face, “I implore you for your help.”

  Alder tilts her head slightly, her owlish gaze homing in on Tierney as everyone in the room stills.

  “You’re Fae,” Tierney says, her voice rough with emotion. “You understand what’s happening to all of us. If you can help the Selkies, help my family. I’m glamoured Asrai. So is my brother. We’re trapped here and in real danger. Please...help us.”

  Andras sets a bolstering hand on Tierney’s shoulder, and concern tightens Alder’s smooth brow. “How old were you when you were glamoured?” she asks.

  “I was three,” Tierney forces out, a tear streaking down her cheek.

  Compassion softens Valasca’s expression. “Queen Alkaia has declared amnesty for many of the Fae,” she tells Tierney. “We can make an appeal on your behalf to Queen Alkaia.”

  “But my father,” Tierney insists. “My brother...”

  “My father will help them,” Diana puts in stubbornly.

  Valasca sighs, glancing at her. “Perhaps he will. We must wait and see.”

  “What about the Vu Trin?” I frustratedly ask. “Why can’t they take a more active role in getting the Fae out of here?”

  Valasca shakes her head. “The Vu Trin, like the Lupines, are sympathetic to the plight of the Fae, but they can’t defy their Eastern Realm command.” She curses under her breath, then focuses back in on Tierney. “Tell me. Do you have any control over your water magic?”

  Tierney nods stiffly. “Some. And I can summon Kelpies.”

  “Kelpies?” Valasca cocks an eyebrow. “That is most definitely in your favor.” She turns to Alder, the two of them momentarily conversing in a foreign tongue. Alder nods, and Valasca looks back at Tierney, seeming resolute.

  “We give you our word, Tierney Calix. Once we have freed the Selkies, Alder Xanthos and I will do everything in our power to help you and your people, the men and women both.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  FIRE FAE

  Spring peepers are sending up their nighttime chirping call as we all disperse in varying directions through the forest—Valasca and Alder back to Cyme, everyone else returning to their studies and labors.

  I’m just about to emerge from the trees, heading toward the main kitchen, the lights of the University twinkling from across the North Tower’s broad field.

  “Elloren, wait.” Yvan’s hand clasps hold of my arm, and I slow to a stop, turning to face him.

  “I was hoping to speak with you alone.”

  I wait, scanning the forest and the field surrounding us as he composes his thoughts, every one of my senses heightened by his nearness.

  “The way you spoke to Valasca initially,” he says, “it felt like you have doubts about her ability to do this.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t. She just surprised me, that’s all.”

  He hesitates, as if in danger of revealing part of a secret. “But...there’s a tension I’m sensing be
tween the two of you.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  He stands there, obviously conflicted and unconvinced.

  Out with it, Elloren. Just say it and be done with it. “This...thing happened,” I reluctantly tell him. “Valasca was my guard while we were in Cyme, and she saw that I was feeling out of sorts, so...she offered me spirits. I’d never had them before, and I drank too much, even though she warned me not to. And...we told each other a lot of personal things.” And I told her how much I want to kiss you. An uncomfortable burn starts along my neck. “I told her...about my feelings for you.”

  Yvan’s fire gives a hard flare, and he looks away, as if suddenly at war with his emotions.

  “Yvan,” I venture, concerned by his unease.

  He shakes his head tightly, his eyes pinned on the forest.

  I draw closer to him as he struggles to maintain his focus just past me and keep his fire tightly restrained.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I never meant to share such private thoughts with her.”

  “It’s not that,” he says, and I can sense how much holding back is costing him, his fire straining toward me like a bucking stallion.

  An impassioned rebellion rises and I dare to put my hand on his arm. He swallows sharply, the muscles of his neck tensing, as I inwardly rail against our situation, against the entire Western Realm. Why do things have to be so difficult between us?

  Seeking to comfort him, I slide my arms loosely around his waist and rest my head lightly on his shoulder, tears stinging at my eyes.

  Yvan’s rigid posture abruptly loosens and he wraps his arms around me in a caress, his fire shuddering into my lines. “Elloren,” he says softly.

  He leans down to inhale the scent of my hair, and I nuzzle my cheek against his graceful neck, his skin so hot to the touch. Unable to resist, I tilt my head and press my lips lightly against his neck.

  He inhales sharply, and his fire sears over and into mine, his slow, careful touch giving way to a harder urgency as he pulls me close, his hands gripping my back, his lips on my hair.