Page 214 of The Iron Flower

They’re stunningly beautiful, the feathers glittering like opals, a rainbow of colors rippling and shining off their edges.

I gasp and fall back and a branch snaps under my foot.

Yvan’s head whips around, his eyes instantly fierce, searching the woods for the source of the sound. He starts for the forest, slightly crouched, his eyes feral as his wings fan out impressively behind him.

He falls back with a start when he spots me. “Elloren,” he says, his angular face constricting.

My eyes are wide as I stare at him. “You’re an Icaral,” I breathe out.

His face clouds over with fierce anguish.

Suddenly, everything falls into place. All of it.

My world rocks alarmingly.

“Yvan...how did your father die?” I ask, my voice strangled, knowing what the answer will be even before he says it.

His black wings flex. “He was the Icaral killed by your grandmother, Elloren.”

I wince and grab onto a nearby tree to steady myself.

It all makes sense now. The horror in his mother’s face when she saw me. It wasn’t only because she’s yet another Kelt who hates the Gardnerians, who hated my grandmother. It’s because I lookexactlylike the woman who killed her husband—the Icaral shown in the statue in front of the Valgard Cathedral.

Yvan’s father.

I cling to the tree as my knees start to buckle.

“Elloren,” Yvan says as he quickly strides toward me, his hand coming to rest on my arm.

I glance down at his hand, the ground beneath me feeling unstable. Has he been able to read my mind all this time? I look up at him. “Are you an empath, too? Like Wynter?”

“Only partially,” he says, his brow tensing. “I can read emotions, but not memories or specific thoughts. And I can only mentally communicate with other dragons.”

“Otherdragons?”

“That’s what being an Icaral is, Elloren. You know that. I’m part dragon.”

A light-headed rush sweeps over me. “If the Gardnerians find out about you...”

“I know.”

We hold each other’s gaze, the full ramifications bearing down on us both. “Naga knows, doesn’t she?” I realize. “And Wynter, too. She’s touched you. She must know.”

He swallows and nods stiffly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice unsteady. “You know you can be honest with me.”

“I promised my mother I wouldn’t tell anyone,” he explains haltingly. “Iwantedto tell you. But, Elloren...even just knowing this puts you in danger.”

He’s right. The mere fact of his existence is extraordinarily dangerous information.

I take his warm hand in mine, my fingers twining through his. “Yvan, this is much too big for you to deal with alone.”

His eyes blaze, the line of his mouth hardening.

More memories flood into my mind, the pieces of so many puzzles falling into place. “That night we spent together,” I say, “I tried to unbutton your shirt, and you stopped me. You didn’t want me to find the imprint of your wings.”

A stricken look crosses his face. “That’s right.”

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