Page 126 of The Iron Flower

“They’re gone,” I tell her. “They do that.”

Her brow creases. “You’ve seen theVisay’unbefore?”

I nod.

“Ni is right,” she says. “No one would believe this.”

She saunters over, a small goat nipping at her tunic hem. She leans down and gives the animal a pat on the behind, sending it off to join the others.

“Were you thinking of a lover?” she asks with a quick tilt of her head toward the sky. “Just now. When you were staring up into the stars.” She sends me a slight grin. “There was something in your eyes that made me think you’re pining for someone.”

A lover.The word doesn’t quite fit Yvan and me. Can you call someone a lover when you’ve never so much as kissed? When you can never be anything to each other but friends? When he’s leaving soon for a Realm leagues away?

I shrug in response, not daring to speak, fearing I’ll say too much.

“Did Sagellyn give you the Wand back?” Valasca asks.

I glance at her sidelong and nod.

Her eyes flick over me searchingly. “Where is it?”

“Hidden. And I have no idea what I’m going to do with it,” I admit.

Valasca smiles. “You don’tdoanything with it. You listen to it.” She looks around, her smile widening. “And here you are. Because you listened to it.”

I give a short, incredulous laugh. “And here I am.” I slump back against the tree, the immensity of everything washing over me. I wince as a headache spikes in my temple and reach up to massage the sudden burst of pain.

“Are you all right?” Valasca asks, seeming concerned.

I nod wearily. “I’m prone to headaches.”

She studies me for a moment, then pulls a flat flask out of her tunic pocket, unstoppers it and hands it to me. “Here,” she offers. “This will help. Only drink a little, though.”

“What is it?” I ask as I take it from her.

“Tirag,” she explains. “Fermented mare’s milk. It’s a common drink here.”

I bring the flask up to my nose. It smells bitter and oddly medicinal, and I give her a wary look. “Are there spirits in this?”

“Oh, I forgot,” Valasca says with a laugh. “You Gardnerians don’t drink spirits, do you?”

I thrust the flask back toward her. “They’re not allowed. It’s illegal.”

She makes no move to accept it. “Rescuing Selkies is, too, last I heard.”

I pause to consider this. She has a point. I touch the flask to my lips and take a small sip. It’s strange and bittersweet, with odd little bubbles that tickle at my cheeks and tongue. It goes down smooth and warm. Very warm—the heat spreading out slowly through my core like Yvan’s fire.

My headache begins to dissipate, so I take another sip as both Valasca and I lean against trees and consider the stars.

I savor the heated feeling when it comes, the way my muscles are beginning to relax, my troubles slowly floating away on tiny little wings.

“This is actually quite nice,” I say, tilting the flask back and forth in my hand.

“Easy, Gardnerian,” she laughs. “It’s quite strong. You should probably stop now.”

I give her a mock scowl and rebelliously take a larger sip, sinking further and further into the delicious warmth. My eyes flick over to the rune-stylus sheathed in her belt. “So, you’re a rune-sorceress.”

“I am,” she confirms with a nod.

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