Page 198 of The Iron Flower

“But, Lieutenant,” one of the men ventures, “I know Isan, and he looks—”

“I don’tcarehow he looks!” the lieutenant snaps. “It’s an illusion! A glamour!” He turns back to face me. “You’re Sidhe Fae, aren’t you? Out to steal Icaral demons? What’s hiding under that glamour of yours?” He pokes me in the side with his sword.

Quick as a blur, Yvan drops the knife and wrests the sword from the lieutenant in one smooth motion. The little girl on Yvan’s back screams, the sound muffled through the strip of fabric.

“Easy, Fae,” the lieutenant says as he backs away from Yvan. He glances around at the growing number of archers surrounding us, a triumphant smile forming on his lips. “Planning on taking us all on? Making a run for it? You’re in the middle of Gardneria. How exactly are you going to get out?” He gestures toward the impossibly high stone walls. “There are iron spikes lining the top of these walls. And all our arrow tips are made of iron.”

Yvan’s jaw flexes as he continues to point the sword at the lieutenant, his face tight, his body rigid.

“Sidhe Fae rescuing two winged Icarals,” the lieutenant observes with a trace of sly amusement, shaking his head from side to side. “What could you be using them for? Thisisa puzzle.” He angles his head toward one soldier. “Malik, send word to High Mage Vogel that we’ve apprehended two Sidhe. In the meantime, we’ll just wait for Mage Damon to arrive.”

Soldiers encircle us but keep a wary distance as the lieutenant discusses plans with three of his subordinates in tones too low to make out.

The sun has newly set, the otherworldly light of the lumenstone casting everything around us in a greenish glow. I touch Yvan’s shoulder with a trembling hand, and he inclines his head toward me in response, his eyes darting from soldier to soldier.

“What are we going to do?” I ask, panic mounting.

He doesn’t answer, and I hear him swallow hard. “I don’t know,” he finally admits.

Panic rushes over me and consumes me with debilitating fear.

And that’s when I cave. Grasping Ariel tight, I bow my head and begin to pray. Repetitive, familiar prayers for mercy, for protection, for a miracle.

“What are you doing?” Yvan snarls.

“Praying,” I answer, tears streaming down my face.

He makes a noise of disgust. “In the words of a religion that hates Ariel and me?” he asks in a seething whisper. “That hates the child strapped to my back?”

“They’re theonly words I know!” I cry, my body starting to shake. “We need amiracle,and that’s what I’m praying for!”

I go back to desperately chanting the prayer for the Ancient One to bring about a miracle in the middle of the Realm of Death, the hope-filled words keeping me from completely falling apart.

“There are no miracles,” Yvan hisses.

A thunderous whoosh passes over us, high above.

My head jerks up along with Yvan’s as flames burst into the sky and roar down, lighting the world orange. Yvan throws Ariel and me behind himself as he thrusts out one palm, holding the fire at bay. A punishing heat presses down on us, everything around us suddenly alight in a deafening explosion of fire.

Incoherent yelling and screams sound from every direction. The gold and orange and bright white of the flames leap everywhere, sparks flying above like a million shooting stars, the heat searing. More long jets of fire blast down from the heavens as iron-tipped arrows whiz overhead.

And then a large, ground-shaking crash directly behind us. As if the Ancient One himself has heard my prayer and descended from the heavens.

Yvan loosens his hold on me, and we turn.

Naga.

The dragon jerks her head back as she catches sight of Ariel, fury blazing in her eyes. Her gaze slides to Yvan, her serpentine head flowing down until her firelit eyes are only inches away from his.

“Oh, Naga,” Yvan tells her, his voice strangled with emotion, “you haveverygood timing.”

Ariel’s raven lights on Naga’s scaled head, the bird’s black eyes darting over us.

You blessedly ingenious bird. You found Naga.

Yvan places his hand on the dragon’s neck, and they stare at each other for a protracted moment. Then Yvan turns to me, new purpose to his movements. “Get Ariel on Naga’s back! You, too! We’ve got to go!Now!”

It’s hard to hear Yvan over the roar of the fire, but his hand gestures make his meaning clear. Not wasting a second, Naga flattens herself to the ground.

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