Page 138 of The Iron Flower

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 resoundingthunk.

“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 ignoretheir 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. “Ourmen?” 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.

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