Page 152 of The Iron Flower

“Relax, Yvan,” Rafe says. “I’m much more observant than most.”

Diana and Jarod don’t seem the least bit surprised.

“Did you know?” I ask Diana.

She shrugs noncommittally. “I can smell it on him. Like smoke.”

“My mother is part Fae, as well,” Yvan tells her. “Do you think they’ll take us both?”

“Without a doubt,” Diana assures him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Yvan glances down at the bonfire, holding himself rigid. When he looks back up, there are tears streaming down his face. I slide my arm around him, just as Tierney comes over to embrace him in turn, all of us overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events.

“So,” I say to Yvan with a teasing smile, “you play with fire?”

“On occasion,” he replies, smiling back at me, streaks of happy tears glistening on his cheeks. He looks over at Rafe and laughs. “Ithoughtdiscreetly.”

“I want to see what that means,” I encourage him playfully.

Yvan hesitates as everyone surrounds him with friendly encouragement. “Fine,” he relents, smiling at us. “You all might want to step back—with the exception of the Icarals, of course.”

Ariel grins wickedly and moves closer to the fire.

We all grow silent as he lifts a hand, palm forward, arm extended. He curls his fingers inward like he’s summoning the fire, and the flames begin to dance, then lean toward him, as if they’re listening. Yvan extends his other hand behind the first and slowly moves it backward, like he’s pulling on an invisible rope. The fire leans a bit more, then a long string of it flies out to Yvan’s hand in a dazzling stream and pulls into his palm.

He closes his eyes and tilts his head up, his breathing deepening as he draws the fire into himself, as if it’s a sensual experience for him. The bonfire’s light dims and the evening’s chill seeps in as more and more of the fire flows into him. And then the fire is gone, abruptly snuffed out.

Yvan drops his hands, a pleased smile on his face. When he opens his eyes and turns to me, they’re glowing bright gold, as if lit by a torch from within. Brighter than I’ve ever seen them glow before. It startles and enthralls me all at the same time.

“What’s it like?” I ask, fascinated.

“It...feels good,” he says, smiling wider. “Like power.”

He notices me shiver, and his brow tenses with concern. He turns and flicks his hand at the firepit. Flames shoot forth from his palm, the wood bursting into flames, warmth and light enveloping us all once again.

Yvan holds up his hand. His fingertips are on fire, like candles. He purses his lips and blows out four of them, then hesitates, his eyes flickering to mine. He brings his thumb to his lips and puts the flame out with his mouth.

His eyes lock back on to mine, still bright and smoldering.

“What does it taste like?” I ask breathlessly, completely under his spell.

His smile widens, his voice a sultry caress. “Honeyed.”

Oh, Sweet Ancient One in the heavens above.

“Oh,” is all I can manage.

“I brought something for you, Ren.” Flustered, I turn as Rafe sets my violin case down beside me.

The violin Lukas gave me.I shrug away thoughts of him—Lukas is the last person I want to think about tonight.

“Tonight, there’s finally real cause for celebration,” Rafe says. “And any proper celebration needs music and dancing.”

“But they don’t know our dances,” I protest.

“Oh,please,” Diana scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “It takes about two seconds to learn one of your dances.” She mock bows to Rafe, and he does the same. The two of them mimic one of our very formal, stiff dances, standing exaggeratedly apart and overly rigid. Everyone laughs, and then Rafe grabs Diana close, dipping her and kissing along her neck as she squeals with laughter.

The others turn back to me, hopeful looks in their eyes.

---