Page 204 of The Iron Flower

“I’m sorry,” he goes on. “I’m so sorry.” The words come out in a rush, his tone desperate.

“Yvan,” I say, grief overtaking me, “you did everything you could. You risked your life to get her to safety. There was nothing more you could have done.Nothing.”

Yvan nods brusquely, his face tight, like he’s holding back a wave of such strong emotion it threatens to breach every gate.

“How is she? The child?” he asks, his voice choked. “Did she stop screaming?”

I nod. I imagine that, like me, he’s hearing the echo of the little girl’s screams reverberating in his mind, feeling the weight of her terror. “She passed out from exhaustion. They’re taking her in. They’re taking Wynter in, as well.”

He swallows and nods, seeming momentarily unable to speak, his breathing becoming labored as his face dissolves into a mask of grief. Yvan clamps his eyes shut and turns away from me, toward the tree he’s leaning on, one hand clutching at the bark for support, the other flying up to cover his eyes as he lets out a harsh, choking sound.

“Yvan.” I step toward him.

He’s sobbing now, the sound of it like sharp, rasping cough, his shoulders convulsing, as if he’s having trouble catching his breath.

My own tears run down my face as I go to him. I hug his rigid shoulder while he struggles to stop crying, failing as grief overwhelms him.

He lowers the hand covering his face and turns to me, his eyes full of unguarded despair. He pulls away from the tree and falls into my arms, crying into my shoulder.

I embrace him tightly, his tears damp on my neck, his whole body racked by sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” Yvan cries again, his voice muffled on my shoulder as he shakes his head from side to side.

“Yvan,” I say, my own voice breaking. “It’s not your fault.” I hug him tightly, his arms gripping me like I’m a lifeline.

We hold each other for a long time, lost in sorrow.

His sobbing finally subsides, and he pulls away, wiping his eyes roughly with the back of his hand. Then he looks at me, his eyes rapidly blazing to gold. “I love you, Elloren.”

My breath catches in my throat.

We both know what this means. What this declaration, this path will cost him. Will cost both of us.

My tears are cool on my skin as they slide down my face. I blink them away, so I can see him clearly. We’re completely star-crossed in every way possible, but there’s no way to fight it anymore.

“I love you, too,” I whisper through salty, tear-soaked lips.

Yvan takes my face in his warm hands and looks at me intently as my heartbeat quickens.

“I want to kiss you, Elloren,” he says, the words weighted with import, “but...it will bind us.”

“I don’t care,” I tell him, impassioned. “I want you to kiss me.”

And then he brings his lips to mine.

His lips are warm and full and salty from his tears, his kiss tentative as a surprising warmth blooms from where his mouth touches mine, his heat sliding through my affinity lines in a tingling rush.

His kiss is like the sweetest honey, like something I could gladly drown in forever.

And then the warmth builds, growing heated where his lips move against mine, my sense of his fire rapidly escalating until his heat is shuddering through my entire body, flames coursing through my lines and around us both.

I gasp, pulling back a fraction, my breathing gone deep and uneven. “Your fire...”

Yvan stares at me through wild, glowing eyes, his voice ragged. “Is it too much?”

“Oh, no,” I breathe out, bringing my lips back to his.

Yvan’s hot mouth claims mine, his hands fanning out over my back, holding me tight against him as his incredible fire courses through me. It’s better than anything I’ve ever felt. Better than the first warm sun of spring, better than the feel of the woodstove after coming in from the frigid cold. The fire burns away every tragic, heartbreaking thing.

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