The Iron Flower

by Laurie Forest

  Aunt Vyvian turns to me, her brow tensing. “Your uncle is very ill, Elloren.”

  The world tilts.

  Oh, Ancient One, no. Not this. Not now.

  “What’s happened?” I ask shakily, my voice high with worry.

  “It’s his heart, Elloren,” she says. “I’m sorry. There may not be much time. He’s back in Valgard, with my personal physician.”

  The room recedes into a blur, and I’m only half-aware of Yvan’s hand on my shoulder, steadying me.

  “You need to come with me at once,” she says stiffly.

  I nod mutely at her.

  “Why don’t you leave, Yvan,” my aunt says to him, grimacing as she says his name, as if it leaves an unpleasant taste on her tongue. “My niece needs to get dressed.”

  Yvan looks intently at me, and I can see him trying to convey a million things silently. He takes my hand in his, and I hold tight to him, wishing we could speak to each other through our minds, like he can speak to Naga.

  “I’ll see you when you get back, Elloren,” he says, his voice warm with affection. He shoots my aunt a look of distrust, wishes us a safe journey and leaves.

  Chapter Six

  Guardian

  It’s during the carriage ride to Valgard, forced to endure such close quarters with Aunt Vyvian, that I start to realize I’m in serious trouble.

  Her response to every question I venture is terse. She can barely bring herself to look at me, and her tense disapproval from before has given way to an almost barely concealed loathing.

  My overwhelming sense of dark trepidation grows, sucking up all the air around me as we pass through large swaths of wilderness, farmland and small towns. Then the carriage takes an unexpected turn into the forest, trundling beneath the trees until we reach an isolated military outpost.

  I’m thrust into vast confusion as I take in the Ironwood structure, two Level Five Mage guards stationed outside it.

  Where are we?

  “Get out,” Aunt Vyvian brusquely orders as the carriage comes to a stop and the guards stride toward it.

  I blink at her for a moment, alarmed by her harsh tone.

  She leans forward and fixes me with a chilling stare. “I said, get out.”

  Ancient One, she knows. She must know about everything.

  I step out of the carriage and am immediately flanked by the guards, feeling as if I’m locked in a nightmare. Their expressions are rigidly neutral as they prod me forward, but I can feel the contempt radiating off them.

  I nervously glance back at the carriage. My aunt is standing there, watching me, slowly removing her black calfskin gloves. She makes no move to accompany me into the outpost.

  One of the guards expressionlessly opens the door for me, motioning for me to enter.

  Another stony-faced Level Five guard meets us inside and ushers me down a spare hallway with Ironwood tree trunks and branches worked into the dark walls. The other two guards fall in behind me.

  The guard ahead of me unlocks a cell door with a small, iron-barred window cut near the top. He opens it and motions brusquely for me to get inside.

  I hesitate. “Where’s my uncle?” I ask the guard to no answer, really scared now.

  I’m shoved from behind, and I cry out, almost stumbling, as fear leaps inside me. Powerless to fight them or flee, I haltingly move forward.

  An explosion of shock overtakes me as soon as I reach the cell’s door.

  Uncle Edwin is inside, crumpled against the far wall. He’s clutching at his chest, his breathing labored, and there are bruises all over one side of his face.

  I gasp and run to him, falling to my knees at his side. “Uncle Edwin! What happened? What did they do to you?”

  He opens his mouth as if to speak, but then his eyes go wide as he stares at something just past me.

  I turn to find my aunt framed in the doorway.

  “Did you do this to him?” I croak out in disbelief.

  “You are a disgrace to this family,” she snarls with disgust. “Both of you. I was a fool to let you raise these children, Edwin. A fool in so many ways. But I will not make the same mistake again. Elloren fasts today. Give me permission, or I will have it beaten out of you.”

  “Fasting?” I cry. “What’s going on?!”

  “The fasting spell,” my aunt says. “It won’t work without your guardian speaking the words of consent.” She points at my uncle. “You will speak them, Edwin. Today.”

  “Leave him alone!” I cry, protectively shielding him with my own body as Uncle Edwin wheezes for breath. “You’re hurting him!”

  “All he has to do is speak the words,” my aunt hisses.

  “No,” my uncle chokes out, the word barely audible.

  I wheel on him, imploring. “Say whatever she wants,” I beg him.

  He tries to speak, but his voice is too weak. He can only stubbornly shake his head at me, his expression anguished.

  “Please, do what she says,” I implore him, tears running down my cheeks as I take one of his hands in mine. I rack my brain, panicked and desperate to find some way to save him.

  I turn to my aunt, fury rising. “If he dies,” I spit out through my tears, “Rafe becomes eldest male in the family, and he’ll never give in to what you want. Uncle Edwin might, if you give him some time. If you let me nurse him back to health, I’ll talk to him. I’ll get him to agree to my fasting.”

  My aunt runs her fingers over the silken gloves in her hand, a dark smile twitching at her lips. “You forget, my niece. Rafe doesn’t turn twenty for three more days. If something happens to your uncle, I become your guardian for those three days. So, it’s in his best interest to cooperate. I will give him ten minutes to decide.”

  She leaves and shuts the door.

  Fear slices through me, its taste cold and metallic in my mouth. “Please tell her what she wants,” I beg my uncle, hugging him, crying into his shoulder. “Please, Uncle Edwin. I can’t lose you.”

  “Elloren,” he says with incredible effort, still wheezing and clutching at his chest. “I’ve failed you. I was wrong...” He stops, his breathing increasingly labored.

  “I don’t understand,” I cry. “Wrong about what? You’ve never failed me. Not ever.”

  “I raised you—” the weak breath in his chest rattles like bones “—to think you are weak... I didn’t want them...to use you...you are not weak...you must fight them... I was wrong... Your power...” He stops, his eyes going wide as he gasps for breath.

  His shaking hand finds mine, and then he slumps back, his head lolling, his eyes glazing over.

  And I know he’s gone.

  I fall into him, sobbing, hugging him tight to me.

  For ten minutes.

  Then the door opens behind me, and I hear the click of her heels on the floor.

  “Get up,” my aunt orders.

  I whirl around to face her. “You evil witch!” I scream, launching myself at her.

  Her guards jump to her side, roughly pushing me back and restraining me.

  Aunt Vyvian looms overhead as I struggle like a feral animal to break free of the guards’ rough hold.

  “I suggest you calm yourself down,” she says coolly. “Or I shall have to pay a visit to the Kelt boy you were in bed with. Yvan Guriel, was it?”

  Go ahead, I seethe. Go ahead and pay him a visit, you witch. Go seek out Yvan Guriel. He’ll set you on fire, and I’ll dance on your ashes.

  Wild with grief, I look back at my uncle, lying dead on the floor behind me.

  And that’s when I buckle.

  I let loose with a terrible wail and go limp, letting them drag me out as I shatter.

  * * *

  Into the carriage, out of the carriage, through the ornate halls of some town’s council magistrate hall.

  There are high
-level soldiers everywhere. A white-bearded priest dressed in sacred robes stands in front of a small altar, his wand in hand, the white bird symbol of the Ancient One embroidered on his chest.

  I’m pushed roughly forward, and I fall to the ground in front of the priest.

  The click of my aunt’s heels sounds on the tile floor as she walks up beside me and comes to a stop.

  Her voice is glacially calm when it comes. “Though it makes me question his sanity, there is one young man who, miraculously, is still willing to fast to you. That is, if you can be fasted at all at this point.”

  “I didn’t do anything with Yvan!” I cry, terrified of what they might to do to him. To his mother. “Nothing happened!”

  “We shall see about that soon enough,” Aunt Vyvian snipes. “I am going outside to await your fastmate’s arrival.” She lowers herself down and brings her elegant face close to mine. “I trust you will not be foolish enough to follow Sage Gaffney’s path once you are fasted. They say the pain of a broken fasting is ten times worse than being branded by hot irons. And it lasts forever.”

  * * *

  I’m slumped on the floor, sobbing, snot running from my nose, when the door to the room opens again with a loud bang.

  Lukas strides in, trailed by several soldiers, his black cloak billowing out behind him, his gleaming sword and wand sheathed at his sides.

  He barely glances at me as he passes, exuding only dominance and anger. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” he says to the priest, but it’s more of an order than a request. The priest bows his head to Lukas repeatedly as he readies his wand and opens up The Book of the Ancients on the altar before him.

  Two guards roughly pull me up from the floor, and I struggle against them as they drag me over to where Lukas and the priest are waiting. They force my hands out in front of me, and Lukas reaches over to clasp his hands over mine.

  “I hate you for doing this!” I snarl at him, tears falling from my eyes, one of the guard’s nails digging into my wrist.

  “They’re going to wandfast you today, Elloren,” Lukas spits back. “It can either be to me, or to someone far worse.”

  “How can you do this?” I cry. “You said you were my friend!”

  “If I walk out of this room right now,” he says through clenched teeth, his voice so low it’s almost a whisper, “your aunt will still be fasting you to someone who, in her exact words, will ‘beat some sense into you.’ I’m here because I am your friend, whether you think I am or not. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about someone fasting to me only because she’s being held down by two armed guards.”

  “Then don’t do it!”

  “Maybe if you don’t want to be placed in a situation like this,” Lukas snipes, his face furious, “you should avoid spending the night half-naked with a Kelt. Oh, yes, Elloren, your aunt told me all about your night with Yvan Guriel. We’ll see just how innocent it was in a moment, won’t we?”

  “What do you care?” I snarl back at him. “You don’t even love me.”

  Lukas’s face takes on an expression so dark that for a moment, I fear he’ll strike me. He looks away, his mouth pressed into a hard line, like he’s at war with himself, then he glances back down at me again with intense frustration. “I’m trying to help you!” he grinds out.

  “I will hate you forever!” I seethe, straining against the guards, against Lukas’s hands on mine.

  Lukas’s neck tenses, and his face clouds over with disgust. He quickly composes himself and turns to the priest. “Just do it. Fast her to me. Then seal it.”

  “No!” I cry as they hold my hands in place, the priest reciting the fasting spell, his voice a nightmarish, monotonous drone.

  The priest waves his wand above our hands, and I flinch as a slight sting races over my hands and branches out, thin black lines flowing out from the wand’s tip and around my hands and Lukas’s. I cry out in futile protest as the fasting lines curl and spiral, then darken as the sealing spell takes hold, like a spider’s web wrapping me up.

  And then it’s done, and I’m released.

  I fall backward and splay my hands out in front of me, horrified by the black lines now permanently branded on my skin.

  Lukas is in charge of me now. He owns me.

  “Where should we take her, Commander Grey?” one of the guards asks him.

  “She has my permission to go wherever she chooses,” Lukas snarls before storming out of the room.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  REVENGE

  Yvan is there when I stumble back to the North Tower.

  The night is inky black, thunder rumbling in the distance. A weak flash of lightning pulses.

  “Your uncle. How is he?” he asks, clearly thrown by my expression as I enter the bedroom. “Why are you back so soon?”

  “He’s dead,” I reply, my voice flat and lifeless.

  “Oh, Elloren...oh, no...”

  “She killed him. My aunt good as killed him. Your mother’s right. My family is evil. You should stay far away from all of us. I’ll ruin your life.”

  Yvan slides off the windowsill and comes to me, his face tensing with confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  “Uncle Edwin’s heart gave out. He’s been sick for a long time. My aunt knew he couldn’t handle stress.” I stop. I can’t say any more.

  Yvan wraps his arms around me as I stand there, limp and unresponsive.

  My hands. How can I tell him about the fasting?

  Grief and dark rebellion rear up within me like a vicious tide, and an even darker idea springs from it.

  I’ll break the fasting.

  Even though my body is numb from grief, unfeeling, uncaring, I reach up and twine my arms around Yvan. And then I bring my lips to his, my kiss soft and then deliberately teasing.

  Yvan kisses me back at first, his fire rousing, but then he pulls away to look closely at me, seeming deeply confused by the dramatic change in my demeanor.

  I ignore his hesitation, caressing his cheek. “Just kiss me,” I beg of him, my voice husky. “I need you to kiss me.” I bring my lips back to his, my fingers tracing up his warm neck, and as we kiss, I can feel him slowly giving up on his confusion, giving in to me.

  Yvan’s breathing deepens, his body tensing in response to my suggestive embrace, his fire quickening and then shuddering into a blaze.

  I skim my fingers languidly along his back, down and around his waist in a supple caress. Then still lower, my hands sliding over his hips, his fire coursing clear through me now, his hands gripping at my tunic.

  Yvan’s fire intensifies as I kiss him more provocatively, his increasingly unbridled heat racing through my lines, his hands beginning to touch me boldly as he senses all the boundaries between us suddenly erased. A small groan escapes his lips as I pull his body aggressively toward mine.

  Abruptly, Yvan’s body goes rigid, and he reaches around to grab my wrists, pushing away from me. “Elloren...” His eyes are on fire with equal parts desire and dawning suspicion. “What are you doing?”

  I flash a sultry smile and move toward him. “Take me to bed.”

  His hands reflexively tighten around my wrists as he maintains the distance between us, searching my face intently.

  Then his gaze drops down, and he sees them. My hands.

  He pulls in a hard breath, outrage flaring to a golden blaze in his eyes. “It’s Lukas Grey, isn’t it? They forced you to fast to him.”

  “Please, Yvan,” I beg, desperate. “I want to break the fasting. Please, help me do it.”

  His hands are tight on my arms, holding me back. “No, Elloren.”

  I glare at him, suddenly furious. We stare at each other for a long, tortured moment.

  And then my fury collapses in on itself. An abyss opens up under me, and I feel my center drop down into it, despair rushing in to fill t
he void.

  An overwhelming sense of loss sweeps over me with the force of a killing wave, knocking the wind out of me as I begin to completely fall apart.

  “You don’t want me anymore.” My voice is a strangled whisper, my throat gone rigid. My eyes lose their focus, and I stare out into nothing.

  “Is that what you think?” he asks, incredulous.

  I hear his voice from somewhere in front of me, like we’re both underwater. I’m vaguely aware of him, of his face in front of me, his eyes fervently trying to find mine.

  But it’s all too much. Too horrible. No one left to be a parent to me. Bound to Lukas Grey forever. And now Yvan will leave me, too.

  I’m all alone.

  I stare out into nothingness as tears stream out of my eyes, like a dam opening, my face unmoving, blank and numb with grief as I begin to fall apart.

  Yvan’s hands hold tight to my arms, willing me to listen.

  I look into his fierce eyes, my vision blurred by a curtain of tears.

  “You think I don’t want you now?” he asks, impassioned. “Because you’re fasted to Lukas? That doesn’t change anything. I love you.”

  I search his eyes, looking for some chink in his armor, for a speck of doubt to confirm my worst fears...and find none. His gaze is strong and steady, wide-open and full of love.

  “Listen to me, Elloren,” he tells me, his grip loosening to a caress. “Our being together can’t be about revenge. That’s why I’m refusing you. I love you. That’s why I want to wait.”

  I suddenly feel like someone who’s almost drowned, who’s stopped breathing, only to be resuscitated at the last minute. The air rushes back into my lungs as I fall into him, his arms wrapping tightly around me, holding me up, keeping me from collapsing. I find my voice and cry out in sorrow, sobbing uncontrollably, a keening wail of despair.

  I don’t know how long we stand like this, but his loving hold on me never loosens as I cry and cry for my uncle, my brothers, for Ariel and the Lupines, for my friends...for myself.

  He stays, holding me, keeping my head just barely above the surface.

  Keeping me from drowning.

  CHAPTER EIGHT