Page 125 of The Iron Flower

Sage picks up the White Wand, grasping it firmly. Her brow draws tight, and she seems suddenly overcome, as if hesitant to relinquish the Wand to me once again. Then she takes a deep breath and holds it resolutely out to me. “It’s yours,” she says. “Takeit. It’s clear that it wants to go to you.”

I take it from her, feeling even more conflicted than the first time she gave it to me, and slide it back into the side of my boot.

Hidden.

We say our farewells, and Sage hugs me goodbye. As we hold on to each other, I almost break down and confide in her about the power growing within me. About the forest’s disturbing reaction to it. But I can’t find the words—they’re too tightly bound up with a growing fear. And it’s time to leave.

My hand is on the door handle, and I’m about to step outside when her voice sounds behind me.

“Elloren.”

I turn. Sage’s violet face flickers a deep purple in the scarlet lamplight, her expression heavy with foreboding.

“The Wand knows you have her power in your blood,” she says. “It chose you anyway.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

TIRAG

Diana is outside waiting for me when I arrive back to our own clearing.

“Are you all right?” she asks me, her eyes lit up by the moonlight.

No, not really,I almost say. I’m in possession of what might actually be the White Wand. And I may never see Sage again. And the Gardnerians are sending trackers and soon Fallon Bane out after an innocent little baby.

I rub my aching forehead, the enormity of it all pressing in. “I’d just like to be alone for a moment,” I tell her. “I’ll stay close.” I motion toward our dwelling, the rune-barrier now conspicuously absent. “You’ll hear if there’s a problem.”

Diana studies me, then looks toward the adjacent forest, as if she’s assessing all potential threats. Then she nods and leaves me alone with my thoughts.

Once she’s back inside our lodging, I walk through the quiet woods and out past the edge of the forest, staring out over the city of Cyme. The silvery clouds are gone, leaving only cold, distant stars. The air is hovering on the edge of cool, as if the surrounding winter is trying to work its way through the invisible dome protecting the city.

I lean back against a blessedly dead tree, the bark rough on my shoulder, and stare up at the starry sky. The universe seems so immense, reminding me of how small and insignificant I am in the face of everything.

Sage’s baby, the feared Icaral, isn’t evil at all. He isn’t the nightmare creature from my dreams of so many months ago. And he isn’t a weapon to be wielded. He’s just a baby. An innocent little baby.

And I have a wand of power. TheWhite Wand.

But that Wand is turning out to be as weak as the Icaral of Prophecy, sending only ghostly visions of Watchers and choosing a bearer with no access to magic.

Why?

I suddenly long for Yvan to be here, right now, under the stars with me. I want to tell him every last thing while he listens in his intense way, holding on to my hand and caressing my fire.

An ache gathers deep inside me.

Yvan, who will be leaving for the Eastern Realm.

Yvan, who I can never have.

I’m startled by a small goat wandering through a patch of pine trees. The little animal stops just in front of me and curiously tilts its horned head. It’s soon followed by several other goats, and I reach down to let the nearest one sniff at my hand.

“Hello, Elloren.”

I turn to find Valasca leaning against a tree, staring at me.

I straighten. “Hello, Valasca.”

Her eyes dart up, searching the tree limbs. I realize she’s looking for Watchers.

---