Page 70 of The Iron Flower

Without warning, a malicious wave of unease flows in from the trees like a dark tide, and a vision of phantom branches curling around my throat invades my mind. Ire rises within me, and I survey the blackness of the forest, my fire lines instinctively kindling faster than they ever have before. I close my eyes and mentally stoke them higher, surprised when my inner fire ratchets up to an invisible, steady blaze, then a hot stream of flame. Exhilarated by this new sense of control over my lines, I tense my whole body and exhale sharply, blasting my invisible affinity fire out on all sides of me and toward the forest in a powerful wave.

The trees fall back, their blistering hatred forced down as if hit by a concussive power. I pull in a deep breath, heat pulsing through me with delicious tension.

When I open my eyes, I find Yvan staring at me with a stunned expression, his eyes edged gold with fire.

I feel instantly exposed, as if I had thrown off my clothes in front of him. Fear slashes through me—fear that he’s sensed the full extent of my grandmother’s magic in my lines.

And that he’ll be repulsed by it.

But his gaze is the opposite of repulsed. He looks...enraptured.

An invisible tendril of his fire power reaches out for me and twines through my fire lines, heightening the blaze. I pull in a shuddering breath, my affinity lines giving a hard flare in response to his fire, an intoxicating warmth sliding through me.

Yvan’s gaze remains fixed on me, discreet and darkly private. As if he’s giving in to something forbidden. Emboldened by his attraction to my power and equally tempted to disregard our carefully drawn boundaries, I coax more fire into my lines and let it flow brazenly out toward him.

The smile he sends me in return is subtle, but the flame in his eyes intensifies.

I look away, wildly flustered, only to find Jarod and Naga watching Yvan and me intently. Naga’s probing gaze snags mine, and I can tell by her shrewd look that she senses my fire. Jarod averts his eyes, as if he’s just intruded on something intimate, and I imagine that, like Naga, he’s picked up on some semblance of what just transpired between Yvan and me.

Flushing with embarrassment, I draw my fire sharply in, struggling to avoid contact with Yvan’s power, and I can sense him doing the same.

“At some point, when you feel ready,” Rafe is saying to Marina, leaning forward and distracting me from my combustible haze, “can you tell us everything that’s happened to you? Everything you remember? We want to get your sister and the other Selkies to safety, but we’ll need your help.”

Marina seems to be actively fighting off her unease over Rafe’s distinctly male smell. She swallows and pulls her gills in. “I will try.”

“We have a pretty good idea of where they might be, but anything you can tell us would be helpful,” Rafe says.

Marina nods. She opens her mouth slightly, as if about to say more, then stops, her gills ruffling. She shakes her head, her expression devolving into one of anguish.

Tierney says something to her, too quietly for me to hear, but it seems to calm Marina. She looks at Tierney gratefully, and then her expression sharpens suddenly, her eyes lighting with recognition. She leans in to sniff Tierney’s neck, inhaling deeply as Tierney stiffens at the unexpected contact.

“You smellgood,” Marina marvels, pulling back to meet Tierney’s eyes. “Like water. Like rain.”

Tierney spits out a facetious laugh. “Really, do I?” she says, but the repartee catches in her throat, and her eyes gloss over with sudden tears. She leans forward and hides her face in her hands, her whole body going rigid.

Andras goes to Tierney and lowers himself on one knee before her, his hand coming to rest on her skinny arm. “Tierney,” he prods, his deep voice kind, “look at me.”

Tierney shakes her head stiffly, but Andras quietly waits. Eventually, she looks up at him, her face slick with tears. “You will not be in this glamour forever,” Andras assures her.

“You’re wrong,” Tierney counters, her voice rough. “I’ll never be free of it.”

“Magic that can be set can also be undone,” Trystan puts in. “Always.”

“My mother told me that the Amaz are working on breaking Fae glamours, so the Fae refugees can take their true forms once again,” Andras says to her, his hand still gentle on her arm, and I’m heartened to hear that he and his mother are on speaking terms again.

Tierney emphatically shakes her head. “They combined multiple glamours to make this one. It’s fused to me with Asrai magic as strong as steel.”

“The Amaz combine runic systems,” Andras replies. “It makes their rune-sorcery very powerful. They’ll find a way.”

“I don’t want to be in this cage anymore,” Tierney says to Andras, impassioned. “I could merge with water if I could regain my true form. I could breathe in it. I want to be who I really am...” She stops, her mouth trembling as Andras pulls her into a warm embrace. Marina looks on with an expression of quiet devastation.

Overcome, I chance a look back at Yvan. His eyes have cooled to their usual green, but they’re still fervidly on me. Perhaps sensing my troubled emotions, he sends out a small tendril of his fire and sets it shimmering straight through my lines.

The white wand pulses against my leg, as if in response to the sudden rush of heat, and I reflexively reach down to touch it through my boot. I can sense my earth and fire lines twining toward the wand, intimately joining with it, and suddenly, I feel a rush of wind racing through me, followed by a slim, flowing trace of water.

Earth.

Fire.

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