Page 93 of The Iron Flower

Tears prick my eyes. “What I said in my dream was true,” I tell him. No longer hiding anything. Holding my heart straight out.

“There are lots of ways to care about people,” he says, his voice tightened. “As friends. Allies.”

“And what if that’s not enough?”

“I think, in our case, thathasto be enough, for more reasons than you know.”

“We could keep it a secret.”

His tone takes on a jaded cast. “These things never stay secret.”

“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.”

My fire line gives a defiant flare, and I fight the urge to throw a rebellious streak of flame out toward him. I can sense him holding his fire back as well, gold sparking in his eyes.

I’m lost. Trapped in a cage with no way out, steel bars separating me from Yvan. But I can’t ask him to make such a dangerous sacrifice. Not for me. I won’t risk his life or the lives of our families.

I turn away from Yvan and lie down, pulling the threadbare blanket over myself and balling my body up tight. I close my eyes, dam up my tears and wish that I could disappear into another beautiful dream and never wake from it.

* * *

Yvan is quiet during the trip back, and so am I, the two of us wrestling with our own private thoughts. I sit behind him on the black mare, my arms wrapped around his waist, pressed tight against his warm back, yet feeling like I’m a million miles away from him—both of us forced by birth into separate worlds.

But there’s nothing to be done about it. He’s right. If we went off together, we’d place everyone we love in grave danger.

Hours later, after we’ve left the horse with Andras and trudged through the snowy wilds for what seems like an eternity, we find ourselves once again at the base of the daunting Southern Spine.

Yvan pauses to glance up at its snowcapped pinnacle as the two of us stand there awkwardly. He doesn’t need to explain his discomfort—I understand completely. It’s hard to be physically close and deny our feelings for each other, knowing nothing can ever come of it.

“Yvan,” I say, breaking the silence, “I just want you to know that I’ve thought a lot about everything you said and...I understand. About the danger to your mother, I mean. And why we can’t...be together. It was reckless to even consider it.”

Yvan nods, his jaw growing rigid as he glances at me and then at the ground, as if he’s trying to compose himself. Trying to rein in both his fire and some powerful emotion.

“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.

“Iwishthings 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.”

His gaze turns ardent. “I feel the same way about you.”

“Friends then?” I offer. “And allies?”

He nods stiffly, clearly as miserable over the unavoidable boundaries as I am. I swallow back the ache, fight back the tears. But I have to say it. I have to know. Because if we can’t ever be together...

“Iris?” I look down at the ground, not able to meet his eyes, bracing myself.

“I’m not interested in Iris,” he says flatly.

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