Page 12 of The Iron Flower

It’s glowing a deep, incandescent sapphire.

Tierney and I exchange a shocked glance as Gesine Bane is suddenly before us.

“What have you two managed this time?” she asks with disdain. Gesine reaches out, murmurs a spell and touches her wand to our receiving flask.

The distillate stubbornly refuses to budge in color.

Frowning, Gesine touches her wand to the glass again and murmurs another spell. This time, there’s a bright flash of violetaroundthe distillate, but still no change in the color of the liquid.

Tierney and I both gape at the flask.

“It’s blocking my magic,” Gesine says accusingly, her brow a tight, vexed line. She shoots us a furious glare, as if we’re purposely causing trouble, but then her expression turns sly. “Congratulations,” she says snidely. “You’ve managed to fail this lab in the most spectacular fashion yet. Please complete every remedial lab in this section by next week’s end.”

She turns on her heel and strides away.

“What did we do?” I ask Tierney, both of us washed in blue by the distillation’s intense sapphire glow.

“I don’t know,” she says with a stunned shake of her head. Tierney turns to me, green eyes wide. “I could feel your power, though, Elloren,” she whispers. “It was almost as if I could touch it. You’ve got fire. Alotof fire.”

I throw her a cautionary look, and we both set to beginning the experiment over again from scratch.

Tierney coaxes the starting solution to a boil as scholars file out of the room. Willowy Ekaterina Salls and her lab partner hang back, peering at Tierney and whispering to each other conspiratorially, both girls united in their long-standing dislike of her.

“I hear Leander’s going to the dance with his new fastmate,” Ekaterina crows, her eyes sparkling with malicious humor.

I look swifly at Tierney, concerned. It’s still fresh, this wound. Leander Starke has been apprenticing with her glassmaker father for several years, and I know Tierney has feelings for him. But Leander was fasted to Grasine Pelthier, a stunningly pretty young woman, just a few days ago.

Tierney grips the edge of the lab table, head bowed. Her breathing is carefully measured as our pale blue distillation bubbles and sends up steam that’s redolent of Ironflower blossom perfume.

“Ignore them,” I warn Tierney in an urgent whisper, worried that she’ll inadvertently conjure a storm right here in the middle of the classroom.

Tierney grips the table harder. “I’mtrying.”

“Think on something else,” I urge. “Something pleasant.”

She knifes a glare at me. “Tell me you’re going to the Yule Dance.” It’s more a demand than a request, her teeth gritted. “That would be pleasant.”

Ekaterina and her friend smirk at us and exit the lab, leaving Tierney and me alone in the room. Relieved, I let out a deep breath and turn back to Tierney, surprised by her choice of subject, but eager to keep her focus away from Leander. “Honestly?” I tell her. “I considered not going.”

Tierney’s eyes widen. “Oh, no. You’re going.”

I give a dismissive snort. “I told Lukas I would, but I threatened to wear my kitchen clothes.”

“Oh, ho.No.” Tierney shakes her head emphatically. “You’re writing to your aunt.Directlyafter we finish here. You’re going to ask her to have a dress made for you. By the finest tailor in Verpacia.” She accentuates each point with a jab of her finger. “Tell her you need the dress to be the most magnificentdress on all of Erthia. Trust me, this is language your aunt will understand.”

I tense my brow at her, incredulous. “How can I go...celebrate,” I spit out, “with a bunch of Gardnerians?”

Even though my connection to Lukas could prove to be an important one for all of us, my hatred of all things Gardnerian momentarily overtakes such cold calculation. It’s too horrible, what’s going on—my own people spreading such fear and cruelty over the entire Western Realm. I don’t want to celebrate Yule with them. Or the Ironflower Festival. All I want to do right now is tear all the Gardnerian flags in this room to shreds.

Tierney pins her eyes on me, razor sharp. “My life is quite difficult, Elloren.And it’s likely to become even more difficult.” She leans in. “The one bright spot, the only one right now, is the promise of you sticking this so thoroughly to Her Evil Majesty, Mage Fallon Bane. She may have been struck down, but with her cursed good luck, she’ll eventually rally. And when she does, I want the first thing she hears to be how you went to the Yule Dance with Lukas Grey in the most stunning dress ever seen on all of Erthia.” She leans closer, her eyes storming. “Donottake this away from me, Elloren Gardner.”

I give her a wry look. “You’re scaring me.”

“Good.” A sardonic gleam lights her gaze. “You’d best listen to me on this. Fallon’s not the only one who can encase you in ice.”

I cough out a laugh. “Fine. I’ll go. And I’ll get the dress.”

Tierney sits back, looking as satisfied as a well-fed cat, a wicked smile forming on her sharp face. “I hope this makes Fallon’s evil head explode,” she murmurs gleefully. “Into amillion tiny pieces.”

---