Page 112 of The Iron Flower

Queen Alkaia sits back and relaxes her posture. “Then perhaps,” she suggests to everyone assembled, “we might follow your example, and at least give the Gardnerian an opportunity to tell her story. I, for one, am curious about how the granddaughter of the Black Witch has come to not only rescue a Selkie, but to befriend the daughter of a Lupine alpha.”

Everyone’s heads turn in unison to look at me, none of their eyes friendly. It’s quiet as death, except for the restless cries of a few babies and small children.

“Rise, then, Elloren Gardner,” the queen says, a note of challenge in her tone. “It seems as if the floor belongs to you.”

I swallow hard, feeling slightly faint as my heart thunders in my chest. I take a deep breath and rise to my feet, bolstered by Marina’s eyes locked encouragingly on me.

With a tremulous voice, I launch into my tale—close to the whole story, except for the parts about Naga, the white wand and the destruction of the military base. My nerves gradually smooth out, my voice steadying as I go on.

When I’ve finished, I remain on my feet, with Diana, Marina, Valasca and Ni Vin beside me.

“So, I am to believe,” Queen Alkaia says, “that the granddaughter of Carnissa Gardner—a girl who looksexactlylike her grandmother—has befriended two Icarals and the children of a Lupine alpha, freed a Selkie and has a brother who is soon to become Lupine? All of this is true?”

“Yes, Queen Alkaia.”

The queen studies me for a long moment, and then she does something no one seems to expect.

She breaks out into laughter.

Eventually regaining her composure, Queen Alkaia turns to the rune-scaled warrior beside her. “May I suggest, Alcippe,” she says, “that if you wish to take revenge upon this girl’s family, the best way to do so would be by letting herlive.”

She turns back to me and smiles widely. “You are a troublemaker, Elloren Gardner. And for that reason alone, you aremostwelcome here. Come, join us.” She glances out over the crowd benevolently. “Make room for the Gardnerian and her companions.” She looks back down at me. “Eat. We will set a formal time for your appeal tomorrow morn, after everyone has been well-fed and well-rested. Hopefully, at that time, cooler heads will prevail.”

I feel Valasca’s cautioning hand on my arm as Queen Alkaia turns her attention elsewhere, and conversation and movement break out in the large room. The looks directed at me are still hostile, but now dampened, like a fire Queen Alkaia has sprinkled water on from her savvy, ancient hands.

CHAPTER FOUR

ALCIPPE

Valasca ushers us to a section of the room that’s far away from Alcippe.

Amaz around us are being handed food by smiling servers who chat with the women as they pass around steaming bowls of fragrant stew and flat, circular bread off of large, golden trays.

Diana and I sit down on embroidered pillows as Valasca jauntily calls out to a woman serving food nearby, giving her a friendly smile and respectful nod. The blonde, Keltic-featured woman, returns the gesture and makes her way over to us, and I notice she has snake tattoos interspersed among her rune-tattoos, jewel-eyed serpent bracelets twined around her wrists and arms. Her expression turns chilly when she catches sight of Diana and me.

She hands Valasca a portion of fragrant stew, a cup of something milky and a piece of golden flatbread, then flashes Diana an unfriendly scowl and practically tosses a bowl of food at her, which Diana deftly catches. The woman then brusquely shoves another bowl into my hands, and I fumble as I accept it, the bowl dropping to the floor, stew spilling out onto the carpet.

Valasca sends the woman an exasperated look and exclaims something in another language, but the woman just snaps something back at her and glares at me before stalking off.

Marina, on the other hand, is being carefully tended to by a large group of women, who are plying her with plates of fish and peppering her with questions, their faces full of concern. I catch Marina’s eyes for a moment, her expression looking overwhelmed, and I nod encouragingly, trying to ignore the spilled food on the edge of my dark skirts.

We’re here for Marina, I bolster myself, noting the belligerent looks sent my way from some of the women surrounding her. How they feel about me doesn’t matter, as long as they help the Selkies—and their reaction to Marina thus far is deeply heartening.

Ni Vin is sitting just behind Marina, her quiet, shadowing presence and honed frame radiating latent power as she surveys Marina’s well-wishers.

Diana picks at her stew, sniffing the pieces of cooked meat disdainfully before deigning to eat it as she glowers across the room at Alcippe, fully immersed in her newfound grudge. Alcippe glares back at Diana from the Queen’s dais, like a coal simmering hot, seemingly unaware of the beautiful, smiling young woman with spring-green skin who’s repeatedly touching her arm, trying to snag her attention. Alcippe’s companion has stiff deep green braids that frame her face in the shape of butterfly wings and are adorned with multicolored orbs of light, and her flowing attire is comprised of silken scarves of every color imaginable.

I sigh and move to clean up the spilled stew, but Valasca has already beaten me to it. She mutters to herself as she cleans, then catches the eye of a gray-haired Urisk woman hovering close by, a food tray in her hands. This older woman has the rose-white skin of the Urisk’s lowest Uuril class, like Fern and Fernyllia and Alcippe. Unlike most of the women here, she’s unmarked by tattoos and dressed in a simple brown tunic and pants. When Valasca waves her over with a gentle smile, she approaches us submissively, her head bowed, her eyes on the ground.

She kneels and holds out the tray of food and drink to me as if I’m royalty—and as if I might strike her down if she displeases me. I take a bowl of stew, a cup of milk and a circle of bread from the tray, my mind thrust into confusion at her behavior.

She’s acting like she’s a slave.

But Clive Soren said the Amaz can’t abide the abuse of women. How could they have an Uuril slave?

The gray-haired woman is still kneeling before me, her head down, as if awaiting my verdict. Valasca taps my shoulder. “Touch her arm and say this...” She speaks a few words in Uriskal.

I do as Valasca directs, and the woman looks up, relief washing through eyes the color of rose quartz. She’s smiling at me like a child who’s just been spared the cane.

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