The Iron Flower (The Black Witch Chronicles, #2)

by Laurie Forest

“Andras Volya,” Soraya finally says, her voice filled with emotion. “This is Konnor. Your son.”

Konnor looks up at him, unafraid as Andras lifts him into his strong arms. The boy reaches up with small fingers to touch the side of Andras’s face, tracing the lines of his rune-tattoos. Andras begins to cry.

“Every race—the Fae, the Lupines, the Elves, the Gardnerians, the Amaz—they all have completely different religious beliefs, but the one thing they all have in common is that they all believe their way is the only way, and everyone else is less worthy.”

“I wish I had access to my magic. I want to fight back against this.”

“I’m going to find a way to get to the Noi lands, Ren. And I’m going to join the Vu Trin, whether they want me or not.” His expression turns lethal. “And then I’m going to come back here with an army and fight the Gardnerians.”

“Mmm,” I distractedly agree, remembering the exhilarating joy of playing with a musician of his caliber.

and suddenly, I feel a rush of wind racing through me, followed by a slim, flowing trace of water. Earth.

Fire. Air. Water. Four affinities now quickening inside me, spiraling tightly around the wand.

“Yvan, I can’t leave Verpacia. There’s an Icaral who attacked me back in Valgard before I came to University, and if I travel over the border—” “I’ll protect you.”

“Yvan,” I say, unable to control the vertigo that’s assaulting me as I look at the peaks. “I can’t do this. It’s too high.” Yvan squints up at the imposing landform, hands on his hips. “You’ll be safe,” he says, his voice certain.

shake my head vehemently. “I just don’t think I can do it. I’m sorry—” “I’ll be carrying you,” he insists. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

“Wrap your arms...around my neck.” He gestures toward his neck, his voice becoming slightly stilted. “From...the back?” I wonder, my face warming. The dreams I’ve had about him flash uncomfortably through my mind. “No,” he says, “from the front.”

“We’re at the top,” he says, keeping a tight hold on me as wind whips against us. “The view is beautiful.” I open my eyes slightly, glimpsing a dazzling blue sky above. He turns and hoists me up a fraction so I can see the view over his shoulder, and I gasp with wonder.

“We’re down, Elloren.” His lips brush against my neck as he says it, warm and soft. I open my eyes to see a thick pine forest surrounding us. Yvan loosens his hold on me as I drop my feet to the ground. I untwine my arms from his neck and step back, instantly missing his warmth as the cold snakes in under my cloak.

wanders back to the night we freed Naga. I remember how Yvan touched my face; how it seemed like he wanted to kiss me. And that night by her cave, when we recklessly let our fire power rush toward each other. In those rare moments, it was as if his true self finally emerged.

Feeling reckless, I let my hand lightly bump into Yvan’s and hook a finger around his. He inhales sharply, and I feel the hard flare of his fire power as he shoots me a heated look. Then he twines his fingers wordlessly through mine.

And I also wonder, as I surreptitiously glance at Yvan, what he meant when he told Phinneas he wouldn’t let me get away.

“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.”

“How could you bring that vile creature to our home?” “She’s not a creature! If you knew her—”

“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.

What the heck is yvan ?? Is he an iceral!?

“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. I can’t have her in my home!”

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?”

What dose that mean!?

He doesn’t answer me right away, and I can just make out his jaw ticking as he stares straight ahead. Finally, he stops, brings his free hand to his hip and looks down at the ground in frustration before looking back up at me. “I’m sorry, Elloren.” “It’s not your fault.”

Quick as a flash, Yvan reaches across the bar, grabs the innkeeper by the front of his shirt and pulls him halfway across the counter. I flinch back, startled, and the room behind us goes silent. “Apologize now,” Yvan says calmly.

but pausing as he moves to shut the door. “Elloren,” he says, a cautionary note to his tone, “lock the door while I’m gone.” “I know. I will.”

He turns his head from me to stare up at the ceiling, his breathing suddenly deepening. Then he turns his hand over and threads his long fingers through mine.

“Yvan,” I breathe out, his flame lightly caressing my lines, “the fire...” “Do you like it, Elloren?” he asks, his voice throaty as he turns to me, his eyes sparking gold. I nod, lit up by him. “Yes.” His full lips twitch into a smile, the gold in his eyes intensifying. I look back at the ceiling, savoring the sultry feel of his fire shivering through mine.

“Are they going to make you fast?” he asks, his voice gaining an edge. “If I stay in the Western Realm,” I meet his eyes, an ache gathering in my chest. “But I don’t want to.”

Yvan’s fingers tighten around mine, his gaze suddenly impassioned. “...

How kind and incredibly brave he is. I wish I could fast to you, I think as we lie there, his eyes locked on to mine. But I can’t say it out loud. So, I let the thought gather in my head, straining for release as we lie there, our hands and fire magic entwined.

I’m fast asleep when I feel the bed shift again. I slowly open my eyes, my brain fuzzy from sleep. Yvan is sitting on the bed, staring at me.

“Yvan,” I say, surprised by his searing expression, the fire blazing in his eyes. I hoist myself up on one elbow and consider him questioningly. “Can I lie down with you again?” he asks, his voice ragged with emotion.

He languidly curls up against me, his hand finding my waist as he pulls me close. I press my hand to his chest, tracing its hard planes through his woolen shirt. His heartbeat is strong and steady under my fingers, his fire running in a hot stream. He’s so close I can feel his warm breath on my cheek. He smells like well-stoked bonfires and something distinctly masculine that makes me want to burrow my head under his jaw and inhale his scent all night long. The

“Elloren,” he says, his voice breaking with intensity. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Yvan leans forward and brings his lips to mine—his mouth all softness and sensuous curves, at complete odds with the sharp angles of his face.

“I’m falling in love with you, too,” I say breathlessly, pulling back a fraction, staring deeply into his eyes.

Somewhere in the background, a man’s gruff voice sings loudly and off-key, slurring the words to some tavern song. My lovely world abruptly shatters around the sound, like glass fracturing into a million pieces and quickly dissolving into the air. Holy Ancient One, I’m dreaming!

Nooooo

“No.” Yvan glances down and shakes his head. Then he looks back up and locks his eyes on to mine. “You did.” I gulp. “I did?” The words come out faint and strained. “Was I snoring?” “You talk in your sleep.” We’re both uncomfortably quiet for a long moment. “What did I say?” I whisper, mortified. He averts his gaze. “You said my name a few times.”

“Did I say anything else?” He’s looking anywhere but at me. “I don’t want to embarrass you.” “Too late.” He turns back to face me. “You said, ‘I’m falling in love with you.’” I roll onto my back and cover my face with my hands, wanting to disappear. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” His voice is tight, but kind.

I sit up and hug my knees to my chest, wishing I could look like anything but what I am. “She’s very beautiful,” I say as more tears roll down my cheeks. “So are you.” I stop breathing for a moment, confused by his admission.

He lets out a long sigh and studies me, his green eyes blazing gold at the edges. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He inhales sharply and looks away, his mouth set in a tight line, as if he’s said too much and wants to prevent himself from making the same mistake again.

“Because of my family.” “Yes. And because some very powerful people want you wandfasted to Lukas Grey. Anyone who gets in the way of that will be in danger, especially if they’re not Gardnerian.” “Anyone...meaning you and your mother.”

“Yes. I can’t think of a way to get around it. And believe me, I’ve tried.” Tears prick my eyes. “What I said in my dream was true,” I tell him. No longer hiding anything. Holding my heart straight out.

“What am I to you, Yvan?” I ask, clutching at the blanket.

He pushes himself up and turns to me. “I think we’ve become good friends.” “But that’s it.” “That has to be it, Elloren. For my mother’s safety. And for yours. And your family’s safety.”

It’s hard to be physically close and deny our feelings for each other, knowing nothing can ever come of it.

“Elloren,” he says, his voice heavy with feeling, “if things were different...” The words hang in the cold air between us. “I know,” I say softly. “I wish things were different.”

“Me, too.” I swallow, my throat suddenly raw and tight. “It’s strange,” I tell him. “I don’t really know you that well at all, and I know you have so many secrets...but I feel like you’ve become my closest friend.”

“And you’re not the only one who has vivid dreams,” he says, almost in a whisper. “You just have the unfortunate habit of talking in your sleep.” He turns to look at me, his eyes searing. “I’ve dreamt about you.”

“What would you do if everything was simpler?” I ask him. “If we were both Kelts, and the world wasn’t on the brink of war?” He gives a melancholy smile at the idea. “I’d be a physician like my father.” He shrugs. “I’d study...and sleep a lot more than I do right now.” I nod with understanding at this. We’re both surviving on very little sleep.