Page 162 of The Iron Flower

More boot heels sound, thudding up the stairs. Three more Elfhollen archers filter in behind Orin, looking stunned.

“They’ve wiped out both the Northern and Southern packs,” Orin says to Commander Vin, slightly breathless. “We just got word. They’re more powerful than we could have ever imagined, and they’re coming for the Ulrich twins. They’ve sent us ahead to retrieve them.”

“Well, they can’t have them,” Commander Vin counters. “And neither can you.” Her sharp gaze tightens on him. “We could use your help, Orin.”

Orin shakes his head, stark indecision in his widened eyes. “How can we possibly go up against them, Kamitra? We’re part of the Verpacian Guard.”

“Break with them.”

Her words vibrate on the air.

Orin’s eyes cast around, as if searching for a way out. The other Elfhollen soldiers seem to be holding their breath as they wait. “My family...I can’t...”

Commander Vin’s expression is unyielding. “Verpacia is going to fall to the Gardnerians. What kind of life will the Elfhollen have under Gardnerian rule, Orin? Both the Alfsigr and the Gardnerians revile you as half-breed Elves with Fae blood. How do you think your family will fare?”

She waits for this to sink in. “Join with us, Orin. We’ll give your families refuge if you fight with us. We will let the Elfhollen through the pass this very day and give them safe passage to Noi lands if all of your archers join with us.” She narrows her gaze. “Or do you expect the Alfsigr Elves will give you refuge?”

Orin’s expression shifts from fear to savage resolve. He turns to call out directives to the archers behind him in the Elfhollen language.

The Elfhollen nod, all of their eyes turning just as fierce. They hoist a young soldier up toward the trapdoor in the hallway’s ceiling. The young Elfhollen forces the hatch open and climbs through. A moment later, a tattered rope ladder rolls down to the floor. The other two Elfhollen archers climb up the ladder to the lookout tower above, Orin trailing behind.

“Commander Lachlan Grey is here, Commander Vin,” a new sorceress says as she pokes her head through the staircase door.

Commander Vin curses to herself. She turns and her eyes bore into me. “Stay here for now,” she orders, then follows the other sorceresses out.

I run to the window. There are now even more of the region’s Vu Trin ringing the tower, the Elfhollen interspersed among them, arrows set into bows, a steady trickle of new Elfhollen archers coming into the hallway and climbing the ladder to the roof. An additional twenty or so Vu Trin are in tight lines by the North Tower’s front door.

And facing them, a short distance away, is a sizable contingent of Gardnerian soldiers riding in, led by Lukas’s father, Lachlan Grey, High Commander of the Gardnerian forces. I search for any sign of Lukas, desperate to find one Gardnerian soldier I might have a chance of influencing. But Lukas is nowhere to be found.

Commander Grey dismounts from his horse and walks toward the tower. He’s bracketed by two men whose black garb bears the Mage Council seal—the golden M insignia on the shoulders of their cloaks. My stomach lurches as I recognize Aislinn’s father, Pascal Greer.

“Aislinn,” I call out, my heart skipping. “Your father’s here.”

Aislinn’s look of defiance only becomes more entrenched. Rattled, I push the window open a crack and peer through. Gray-uniformed Verpacian soldiers stand by Commander Grey, all of them older men who appear to be officers, one with the large white star markings of a Verpacian commander. And all of these Verpacian military men are black-haired, green-eyed Gardnerians.

I strain to hear as Commander Grey strides up to the Vu Trin commander. “Greetings, Commander Vin,” he says, his tone filled with triumph. “We have come to take custody of the Lupines.”

Commander Vin remains stone-still in front of the door, her hands on the hilts of both curved swords at her sides. “They are University scholars, Commander Grey, and as such are under our jurisdiction.”

Lukas’s father holds up an official-looking piece of parchment affixed with a gold seal. “I have orders from the Verpacian Guard authorizing you to release them to us.”

“Lieutenant Morlyr,” the commander of the Verpacian forces calls out, glancing up toward the tower’s roof. “Call off the Elfhollen guard.”

“No.” I hear Orin’s voice sounding through the open entrance to the roof, his tone as rigid as iron. “We’re breaking with you.”

The Verpacian commander’s expression becomes one of surprise, then disgust. Aislinn’s father leans in toward him. “I warned you, Coram. This is what comes of letting half-breeds into your ranks.”

Coram’s lips tighten as he looks back up at Orin, furious. “Lieutenant Morlyr, you and all these renegade soldiers are hereby dismissed from the Verpacian Guard, due to your flagrant violation of the laws of our land.”

Commander Grey glances at Coram, his expression calm and in control, like he has all the time in the world. “We’ll send you soldiers to replace them, Coram.”

“Thank you, Commander Grey,” Coram says, eyeing Orin with contempt.

“Where are the Lupines?” Lukas’s father asks Commander Vin, sounding almost bored.

She jerks her chin up toward where I stand. “In the tower.”

Commander Grey makes a small gesture to the soldiers behind him, and they start forward. Commander Vin taps a hand on her sword’s hilt in response. In perfect unison, and with a metallic shriek, every Vu Trin circling the tower pulls one curved rune-sword from their sheaths. Through the opening in the roof, I can see the Elfhollen snapping their bows up, arrows nocked.

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