Page 31 of The Iron Flower

Aunt Vyvian dips her head toward Trystan, but her smug grin fades as she turns to my older brother. “And Rafe,” she says flatly.

Rafe doesn’t let her pointed unfriendliness faze him, his amused smile bright as ever.Aunt Vyvian gestures to the empty chairs, and my brothers join us at the table.

“It has come to my attention,” Aunt Vyvian says to Rafe, her lips tightly pursed with displeasure, “that you were...cavortingwith the Lupine girl at the Yule Dance. It seems you made quite the spectacle of yourself.”

“Diana likes to dance,” Rafe says, grinning cagily.

“Does she?” Aunt Vyvian replies, cool as ice. “Well, I’ve sent word to her father about it—a most unpleasant task, I can assure you. I informed him that it is the unfortunate nature of some young Gardnerian men to sow their wild oats, so to speak, outside their own kind, with Selkies and the like.” She turns to me, her expression apologetic. “I’m sorry to discuss this in front of you, my dear. It’s shocking, I know, but this affects your fasting prospects, as well as Trystan’s. Well, maybe not yours, Elloren, as Lukas Grey seems quite intent on fasting to you. Trystan, on the other hand, might have a hard time finding a suitable young woman if Rafe continues running around with the Lupine bitch.”

I flinch at her casual slur, and Rafe’s mouth goes tight with anger.I reach down to clasp the edge of my chair with my wand hand and a blazing heat courses through my lines. I’ve a sudden flash of awareness not just of all the wood in the room, but all the wood in the building. Shocked, I wrench my hand away from the wood, ball my fist and resolve to not touch the chair again.

Aunt Vyvian sips at her tea, peering over the edge of her cup at Rafe. “Both you and Trystan need fasting partners by spring,” she declares. “Cut off all contact with the Lupine female immediately.”

She looks to Trystan, her expression momentarily thawing. “I have a selection of fastmate possibilities lined up for you to choose from, Trystan.” She frowns at Rafe. “But at this point, we may be dependent on the Council’s fasting registry to findyoua willing partner.”

“What did Diana’s father say about all this?” I ask my aunt nervously, noticing that Rafe’s silent wrath has shifted to the aggressive baring of teeth.

Aunt Vyvian fixes him with a calculating stare. “He felt that you should stay away from his daughter. Or he’ll need to pay you a visit. Am I making myself clear, Rafe?”

“Quite,” he replies, biting off the word.

“Really, Rafe, what could you possibly be thinking?” Aunt Vyvian looks to the ceiling, as if praying for strength. “Even a Selkie would be a better choice of...companion, than the daughter of theGerwulf Pack’s alpha.” Aunt Vyvian turns to Trystan and gives him a long-suffering look. “I wish all young Gardnerian men were as morally upstanding as you, Trystan. You are acreditto your race.”

Both Rafe and I turn to Trystan, eyebrows raised.

“You are the youngest here,” she goes on, “but you have shown the greatest maturity. You must guide your older siblings, Trystan.”

“I will do my best to keep them on the right path, Aunt Vyvian,” Trystan promises solemnly.

“And get some practice in with that wand,” she says encouragingly. “A Level Five Mage and a member of the Weapons Guild—you’ll be highly placed in the Mage Guard.”

Trystan’s serene expression doesn’t budge. “I will be careful not to neglect the natural abilities the Ancient One has blessed me with.”

Aunt Vyvian nods at Trystan with solemn appreciation before turning back to Rafe with a frown. “Rafe, it’s time to stop being so irresponsible.”

“I will try my best to follow Trystan’s example,” Rafe replies, his eyes steely.

Aunt Vyvian holds Rafe’s gaze, neither one of them ceding for an uncomfortably long moment. Eventually, she shifts her gaze back to Trystan, her Golden Gardnerian. “Trystan, I appreciate all your letters. I can’t often be away from Valgard, so I trust you to be my eyes and ears. Please continue to stay in touch, and don’t hesitate to let me know if your siblings need correction.”

“I won’t, Aunt Vyvian,” Trystan says. “I’ll keep a close eye on them for you.”

* * *

Trystan shows up at my North Tower room a few nights later. When I open my door, he motions for me to join him in the hall and slides my white wand out of his cloak pocket. I notice he has the wand Aunt Vyvian gave him sheathed at his side. Every day, my little brother looks more and more like the powerful Mage he is.

“Here, Ren,” he says, holding the white wand out to me. “Take it.”

My affinity lines leap covetously toward the wand, but I hold back from accepting it. “Why? I’ve no power.”

He shakes his head against my protest. “It won’t work for me anymore. It’s like it’s gone dormant, or...” He pauses, a ripple of trepidation passing over his expression. “Like it’s gained control over itself.” He studies me, as if waiting for me to mock this odd statement.

But I don’t. I know very well that there’s something strange about this wand.

The White Wand.

I’m instantly embarrassed to once again be entertaining such an outrageous idea.It couldn’t possibly be the White Wand...but it’s certainly not normal.

I take the wand from Trystan, and a look of relief passes over his face. My wand hand curls around the spiraling handle, and I pull in a deep, languid breath. It feels good to hold this wand. Too good. Better than any wood.

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