CHAPTER
10
At some point in the night, Lily became aware of the fact that she was thrashing about in a big, white bed.
She felt hands soothing her and smelled the grassy scent of Rowan’s ointment cooling her charred skin. No matter how many times Lily went to the pyre, burning on it never got easier. The trauma was not something the body could ever allow to become commonplace, and if she couldn’t—or, in this case, wouldn’t—transmute the heat fast enough, agony was the sacrifice she had to make.
When it became too much, Lily found Lillian waiting for her in the Mist. They sat on the raft, facing each other, their feet pulled in and their chins resting on their knees.
But you didn’t go to the pyre, Lily said in confusion. Why are you here?
I am here every night now, Lillian replied.
Your cancer is that bad?
Lillian smiled at Lily as they bobbed on top of the dark water. It won’t be for much longer, she replied after a quiet spell.
Lily thought of Toshi’s deep red willstone, and regretted not claiming him, if only for Lillian’s sake.
Can I help you in any way?
Yes. You can help me destroy Bower City.
Lily didn’t reply. She thought of all the people in Bower City who had no idea what Grace had done. They didn’t deserve to die. Lily had no idea how to keep them safe, though, once the war began in earnest. While she was thinking about this, Lillian asked her another question.
How did you get your coven from the sand dunes to Salem?
I can’t tell you that yet.
Why not?
I need you to wait for me and hear what I have to say.
I can’t wait. I’m dying.
Hold on, Lillian. I’m coming.
Lily woke with the sun. Her stinging eyes peeled open to see stone walls, wide windows, and on the far side of the room, a fireplace large enough for her to stand in.
She knew this room. She was in Lillian’s bedroom in the Citadel.
Lily sat up and saw that she wasn’t alone in the bed. Rowan lay next to her, a bare arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light. Tristan was there, too, down by her feet. Juliet, Breakfast, Una, and Samantha were draped uncomfortably over various pieces of furniture. The only person missing was Caleb.
She felt Tristan twitch as he shook himself awake. His blue eyes opened and he sighed with relief when he saw her.
Hi there, he said. You’re looking much better.
I still feel like hammered garbage. Lily smiled at him. Where’s Caleb?
Tristan’s eyes unfocused as he searched for his stone kin. Off somewhere with a friend. He’s still angry, Tristan answered.
Have I lost him? The thought tightened her throat.
He hasn’t decided yet. He had to smash his first willstone when he was still a kid to get away from his first witch, and he has no desire to repeat the experience.
Lily remembered Caleb telling her about his brief time training at the Citadel. He’s been claimed by a cruel witch who used to possess him for fun. He’d never shared any of those memories, and Lily hadn’t pushed it. It occurred to her that she had done the same thing to him, although for very different reasons. She could only hope that her reasons were good enough for Caleb and that he came back to her. For now it was out of her hands.
Not sure what to do, Lily glanced around absently at the basins of bloody water, the shreds of gauze pads, and the bottles of herbs piled around her. Detritus from the battle to heal her. Her coven slept deeply and in odd positions, as if exhaustion had hit them like the tide and left them scattered like driftwood.
It was quite a night, Tristan said in mindspeak. Lily caught glimpses of it from his mind.
They’d appeared inside the courtyard of the Citadel—the geographical parallel to Lily’s backyard in her version of Salem. The few guards who had been left behind to defend Walltop had believed she was Lillian, and they’d ushered the group inside without a word of protest. They’d looked in amazement at Samantha, back from the grave, but these were Walltop soldiers. They did not question their Witch. Everyone had been relieved to see Lord Fall back at the Citadel, especially with the Witch as injured as she was. Lily saw herself from Tristan’s perspective—a patchwork of black soot and red blood in Rowan’s arms.
She heard the words Lord Fall echoing in Tristan’s mind and she felt the struggle between envy and respect that had always plagued him sparking afresh. The elite Walltop soldiers honored Rowan and felt safer with him in command, while Tristan was merely an afterthought to them. Tristan looked at Rowan’s slack body, at the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and something other than rivalry began to creep in on him.
Do you still love him? Tristan looked up at Lily as he asked this.
I’ll never love anyone else, she replied. But every time I almost let myself run back to him, I remember.
Remember what?
In order for you to understand, I’d have to let you feel something that might be too much for you.
Give it a try.
Lily nodded and allowed this Tristan to feel what it was like when she’d Gifted her Tristan right before he died fighting the Hive. She let him feel the measure of power she was able to give him. And then she allowed him to feel what it was like when she Gifted Rowan.
Tristan inhaled sharply, eyes closed, his face turning away from the enormity of it. Lily backed off when she saw sweat beading on his upper lip. She let him catch his breath before continuing.
That’s just a memory of what Rowan can do. If he had been my head mechanic when we faced the Hive—
You think your Tristan would still be here. You blame Rowan. That isn’t fair, Lily. Not even Rowan can defeat the Hive alone.
Lily grasped at a way to turn something that had just been a jumble of feelings for so long into one coherent thought.
It’s not just about Tristan, or about me. He abandoned all of us. When Rowan stayed with Alaric and let us fend for ourselves during the crossing, so many died because he wasn’t there to save them. I can’t forgive him for that.
But he changed his mind and followed us, Tristan argued.
He was following us when he should have been leading us. No matter what he felt about me, he never should have abandoned the coven.
She’s right, Rowan said, joining them in mindspeak.
Lily saw him lying with his arm up over his head, a sad smile on his face. She had to look away. Tristan opened his mouth to say something, but Rowan cut him off.
“No, Tristan, don’t. Don’t make excuses for me.” He looked at Lily, thoughts running swiftly behind his eyes. “Just let it go.”
The moment teetered, and when the rest of the coven stirred and woke, it landed on the side of silence.
“Is she still crispy?” Breakfast croaked, his voice rusty with sleep.
Lily looked down at the pink skin on her arms. “Nope,” she answered, poking her tender skin to test it. “I think I’m good.”
“You’re awake,” Una said, surprised.
Lily waved to her, attempting a weak smile. “I feel about as good as you look,” she said.
“Funny,” Una said, dragging a few fingers through the knots in her hair.
Rowan got out of bed, his demeanor turning stormy. “Don’t move around too much,” he cautioned. “It was easier to put you back together with my tools at hand, but you’re not completely healed yet.”
He pulled open a drawer and took out a white shirt, snapping it once to loosen the creases. Bare chested and completely at ease in this space, Rowan opened the door and let his voice boom down the high and wide corridor. “Gavin!” he called.
While Rowan pulled on his shirt, still stored after all this time in Lillian’s personal chest of drawers, Lily could hear the fumbling steps of someone scurrying to come to the door.
“Yes, Lord Fall?” inquired a blond boy who appeared before him anxiously. Lily remembered a younger version of him from Tristan’s recollection of the Stacks.
“Go down to the kitchens and order breakfast for everyone here. Then come back and clean up,” he said briskly, but kindly. “When you’re done with that, I want you to find some suitable traveling clothes for the Ladies Juliet and Samantha, and for the rest of the Witch’s guests.”
“Yes, Lord Fall,” Gavin said before turning and running back the way he came.
Rowan left the door open while he took up his wristwatch from the top of Lillian’s vanity table, snapped it on, and then gathered a few strangely shaped coins that he slid into his pocket.
“Where are you going?” Tristan asked.
“To get Caleb and bring him back to the coven, where he belongs,” Rowan replied over his shoulder. He stopped at the door for a moment to glance meaningfully at Lily. “I can’t let him make the same mistake I did, can I?”
As Rowan swept out of the room, Una and Breakfast exchanged a look.
“So that’s Lord Fall,” Breakfast said, his eyebrows raised.
“He’s very . . . lordly,” Una added. “It’s kinda hot.” She patted Breakfast’s arm consolingly. “No offense.”
“No, I’m with you,” Breakfast said in agreement. “I almost saluted him.”
Lily could feel Tristan watching her, but her eyes stayed fixed on the previously charged space that faded into listlessness now that Rowan had left it.
Toshi met Mala for lunch at the same seaside restaurant where he’d taken Lily. He was distracted, and annoyed that Mala was running ten minutes late.
He and Ivan had been desperately trying to come up with something to kill off the Hive. The problem was, Ivan had made them too well. They were disease resistant, able to bear high volumes of toxic chemicals, and they were immune to all of the lethal forms of fungus that can sometimes plague insects. They were running out of time, and Mala was wasting his.
She rushed into the restaurant in a self-important flurry, wearing a burgundy-and-gold sari that brought out the golden highlights in her dark skin, and a tissue-thin veil bordered by gold medallions that tinkled pleasingly when she moved her head.
The veil, Toshi thought, was a bit much. But Mala had never been one to exercise restraint.
“Grace tells me you have no idea where the Proctor witch went,” Mala said, diving right in before they’d even gotten their drinks.
Toshi forced a smile through pursed lips. “Lily never mentioned she planned on leaving,” he replied. “It was very sudden.”
“And the Hive just let her go?” She pulled a face. “That’s odd. But who knows why the Hive does anything?”
Toshi accepted his champagne from the server and took a sip to stall for a moment. Up until now, he couldn’t be sure how much Mala knew about Grace and the Hive, but it seemed she, like the rest of Bower City, had no idea Grace controlled them.
“Grace didn’t discuss Lily with you?” he asked in return.
Mala flicked her head and her veil chimed. “I honestly don’t care what happened to her.” She scanned the horizon, her expression a placid mask over bitterness.
“Just as long as she doesn’t come back?” Toshi guessed.
Mala shook her head and leaned forward, placing her forearms against the edge of the table.
“I’m past that,” she said. “It’s clear to me now that I’m not Grace’s first choice. And if I’m not her first, I’m just waiting around until the next Lily Proctor comes along.”
Toshi wondered how blind Mala had to be to miss the fact that there were no other witches like Lily Proctor. Not that Grace intended to cede power to anyone. Mala’s role as lieutenant governor was created to keep up the illusion of freedom. He watched a Worker land on the white tablecloth.
“What do you intend to do?” he asked.
Mala looked down at her hands. “I’m done waiting.”
“You intend to leave Bower City?”
“I didn’t say that.” She leaned back again, adopting airs of confidence and relaxation he doubted she truly felt. “You’re never going to be Ivan’s second, you know. Grace told me months ago that she’d never let your confirmation go through.”
Toshi didn’t appreciate being baited. He narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you want, Mala?”
She gave him the first genuine smile he’d ever gotten from her. “We’ve never been friends,” she said candidly. “Which is strange, because we have so much in common. For a while I thought it was because you and Grace were involved a long time ago, and there’s always been an attraction between us.” She waved away her own musings without bothering to check if Toshi agreed with her. “The point is that both of us have been strung along by Grace for decades,” she continued. “But we’re not the only people in this city who’ve noticed that she’s been in power for too long. There’s a lot of people who—”
Toshi straightened with a jolt. “Stop talking.”
He stood up, threw some money on the table, and took her by the arm. She was so shocked that she didn’t even protest while he led her out of the restaurant.
He didn’t say a word as he pulled her onto a trolley, and when she tried to take her arm out of his grasp, he squeezed tighter. She grew still.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked under her breath. “To Grace?”
Workers began to gather on the railing of the trolley. They rubbed their tubular mouthparts with their forearms, tasting Mala’s fear and deliberating the threat level.
Toshi put his arm around her and nuzzled past her veil until his lips touched her neck. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered.
She smiled and relaxed. “It took you long enough,” she said, and wound her arms over his shoulders.
“Listen very carefully. You’re being watched. Every move you make, maybe every word you say—I can’t be sure.”
Mala’s chiming laughter matched the merry jingling of her veil. “Grace doesn’t have spies in the city. Believe me, I would know who—”
“Not who,” Toshi said, giving her a little shake to quiet her.
He pulled back with the lazy look of a lover and turned one of her medallions over in his long fingers. Subtly, slowly, he gestured to the Workers that were disbanding now that Mala’s fear had dissipated.
It took a moment to sink in, but as Toshi watched, Mala’s face transformed from disbelief, to fearful calculation, to outrage. Her breath quickened and her eyes darted around as she scrolled through a lifetime of private moments that were now violated, until finally, resentment smoldered inside her.
Toshi pulled her close and let his lips dip close to her ear, covering their conversation with her veil.
“We need allies,” he whispered. “People who aren’t afraid to fight.”
“I’ll take you to them.”
Lily put her feet down and tested her legs. When they didn’t show any sign of buckling, she stood and took a few steps. By the time she made it to the hope chest at the end of Lillian’s bed she needed to rest, and sat down heavily.
“If Rowan catches you out of bed, he’s going to freak out,” Juliet said.
Lily panted and concentrated on making the room stop spinning. “I don’t care what Rowan does,” she said petulantly. Juliet gave her a doubtful look. “Just don’t, okay?” Lily continued, “I’m not being stubborn. I have to get better fast because I have to get us to Lillian.”
“It’s not like she’s going to make it to Bower City anytime soon,” Una said over the top of the book she was reading. “What’s the rush?”
Lily didn’t have the energy to explain it to them, so she replayed a memory of what Lillian had shared with her just a few moments ago . . .
. . . My drake lets out a trumpeting bellow. I bank and return the way we came. I’m soaring high above the fourth battalion along the outer rim of the advancing line of my army. I have to keep shifting which battalion is on the outside to spread the risk among them equally, lest I sow dissent.
The Woven devoured fifty men last night alone. They’re attacking us on every front. It’s more than just coincidence. Grace Bendingtree is sending them against us, trying to pick off as many as she can. And it’s working. At this rate, my army will be dead before we get there . . .
“That’s why I’m rushing,” Lily said.
Juliet nodded and stood up. She came over to Lily and helped haul her to her feet. “Let’s get you closer to this food,” she said, steering Lily toward the tea table. “There’s a disgustingly salty vegetable broth that I’m sure you’ll love.”
Lily made it to a chair and flopped into it. She tore at a heel of bread and dipped the crust in her broth to soften it. “Where’s Breakfast?” she asked.
“He’s out running an errand,” Una answered. “He said he’d be back in a few hours—which should be right around now.”
“A few hours? What’s he doing?” Lily asked. Una shrugged but didn’t offer any more information. Lily turned to Juliet. “Where are Tristan and Mom?”
“Tristan went to check on his apartment, and Mom is going through boxes of her stuff. Or the other . . . her’s stuff,” Juliet answered, stumbling over the tricky grammar. “I’ve been told there are several rooms that belonged to the other me just a few doors down, but I don’t actually know this place like Mom does.”
“Or like Rowan does,” Una added, watching Lily.
Lily’s chewing slowed and she forced down the now-heavy mouthful. “It was hard to see him like that this morning,” she admitted. “He was never that comfortable in my bedroom.” She picked at the spongy center of her bread, pinching some off and rolling it into a dough marble between her fingers. “He’s going to see her again soon,” she said after a long pause.
“Don’t start thinking crazy thoughts,” Una warned.
“But they have history,” Lily said.
“Yeah—the bad kind. She killed his father, remember?”
Lily smiled weakly and dropped her head. “Our history isn’t so great, either.” Gavin appeared in the doorway, wringing his hands. “What is it, Gavin?” Lily asked, brushing the crumbs from her fingers and sitting up straight.
“One of your guests has returned to the Citadel with a stranger, My Lady, and Lord Fall isn’t here, and he told me not to let anyone disturb you, and I didn’t know if this would be considered a disturbance or not—”
“It’s okay,” Lily said, interrupting the anxious tirade. “Let him in.”
Gavin blinked his wide blue eyes. “Okay. But if he ends up disturbing you, you’ll tell Lord Fall that I was against it, won’t you?”
Lily suppressed a laugh. “I’ll tell him.” Gavin breathed in relief and rushed off.
“What did Rowan do to that poor kid?” Una asked, shaking her head.
“It’s not just Gavin. Everyone here is afraid of him,” Juliet said.
“It’s not fear,” Lily said, wishing she felt less for Rowan than she did. “It’s respect.”
Breakfast entered the room with a pale and grubby young man who had the lanky arms and legs of a recent growth spurt. Lily stared blankly at him until he smiled at her, and she recognized him as the boy from the Providence subway tunnels.
“Riley?” she said disbelievingly.
“Hello, Lady Witch,” he said, breaking into a brazen grin. “Sorry to see you’re laid up again.”
“Occupational hazard,” Lily mumbled and turned to Breakfast. “What the heck is going on?”
Breakfast and Riley sat down at the tea table and started digging into the cold cuts of meat and wedges of cheese that Lily had no intention of eating.
“I first got the idea when we were talking about how hard it was going to be to get Lillian and Alaric to work together,” Breakfast said as he spread mustard on a piece of black bread. “I thought then we were still going to need more fighters than that. It’s an all-hands-on-deck situation, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“And, let’s face it, if anyone needs land and a new place to live besides the Outlanders, it’s Riley’s people.”
“We’d be willing to fight for it,” Riley said with fire in his eyes. “My dad—all the men on the ranches—they aren’t afraid to fight the Woven. They live out there with them anyways, and at least if we were to go west, we might actually have a shot at having our own homes for a change.”
Lily held up a hand and addressed Breakfast. “How much did you tell him?”
Riley and Breakfast shared a look. “Everyone knows that Bower City is out there already,” Breakfast said.
“You can’t move an army west without someone finding out why,” Riley said. “Especially not someone with my connections.”
Lily suppressed a smile at the young man’s bluster. “Yes, but how much did you tell him about me and Lillian?” Lily asked.
“Oh, he told me there are two of you,” Riley said around a mouthful of cheese and fig jam.
“And that doesn’t strike you as strange?” Juliet asked.
Riley shrugged, his mouth still full. “Witches are weird,” he said, like that explained everything.
But he was young. Lily didn’t think that explanation would suit the hardened men on the ranches or the women Lily had met in the tunnels. Thinking of them, she sat back and shook her head, engaging Breakfast in mindspeak.
You should have asked me before you did this, she said.
I knew you’d say no if I did, he replied. You have something against the tunnel people and the men on the ranches.
Surprised, Lily weighed his assessment and found it to be true. She hadn’t liked Mary, the leader of the tunnel people in Providence, and the memories Lillian had shared with her about the men on the ranches still haunted her. Lily switched out of mindspeak to keep the nightmarish memories of those vicious men from seeping out of her thoughts and into Breakfast’s.
“It doesn’t matter what I think of them,” Lily said dismissively. “I can’t use them because they aren’t my claimed. They wouldn’t stand a chance against the Hive.”
“We’d let you claim us,” Riley said.
“And you speak for everyone?” Lily snapped. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you, Riley. You aren’t in charge down there.”
“No, but I know how my people feel. I know they want to fight,” he said stubbornly. “And I can bring Mary if you’d rather talk to her.”
Lily opened her mouth to decline, and Juliet spoke up. “The least you can do is meet with her,” she said.
“It’s a waste of time,” Lily argued.
“We need all the help we can get,” Una said, studying Lily carefully. Una switched to mindspeak.
What’s wrong with you?
One of Lillian’s memories flew from her mind to Una’s.
. . . I struggle and kick, but they pin me down with the noose poles. Even from five feet away I can smell the corruption of their innards in the stink of their breath. They leer at me, trying to push the bodice of my torn dress aside to get a glimpse of my bare breasts . . .
Una recoiled, shaken by the terror and helplessness that Lillian had felt.
Those are the kind of men out there on the ranches, Una. Murderers and rapists, Lily said in mindspeak. I have no interest in claiming them.
They can’t all be like that, Una replied, more out of optimism than true belief.
“And what if they are?” Lily asked aloud.
Una gave her a calculating look. “What are you willing to do to get rid of the Hive?” she asked flatly. “You better decide now, because I’m pretty sure Grace isn’t squeamish about who she’d claim.”
Lily glared at Una, and saw tough love glaring back. Una never let her get away with anything.
“Damn it,” Lily breathed. She turned to Riley. “Arrange a meeting with Mary, but tell her not to come if she’s just going to waste my time. I’m not doing this unless she can bring me an army.”
“I’ll tell her,” he said with a brisk nod. His horse-trading done, Riley looked down on the remains of her bread. “Are you going to eat that?”
Lily ended up having to order Gavin to bring more food. Riley ate with the mechanical determination of someone who had spent more days of his young life going hungry than feeling full, and he wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity to gorge until he couldn’t see straight. When his gargantuan appetite was finally appeased, Lily sent him back to the tunnels with a basket of food for Pip and the other children who followed him around like the Pied Piper.
It was almost evening before Rowan returned with Caleb and Tristan. At some point Tristan had joined Rowan to try to help him persuade Caleb to come back to the coven, and it was obvious by the way the three of them hung together that they had spent quite a long time hashing things out. They already had similar ways of moving and gesturing from having grown up together, but it was more pronounced when they’d spent long stretches in one another’s heads. Physically, they were three very different men—Caleb dark and hulking, Tristan light-eyed and tall, and Rowan slender and as elegantly muscled as a dancer—but when they spent a lot of time together they could easily be mistaken for brothers.
Lily watched Caleb anxiously. She brushed up against his mind and gently asked for entry. He let her in, but only so far. She felt a pang of rejection and desperately hoped he wouldn’t stay angry with her forever. Caleb had been her shoulder to cry on in some of her darkest times. The thought of losing that closeness was unbearable to her.
I’m sorry, she said in mindspeak. She didn’t try to excuse her behavior with an explanation. It was up to him to forgive her or not.
Do better, he replied, holding back a tide of unpleasant memories from his childhood.
I will, Lily promised. She felt him relax and knew that the danger of losing him had passed. For now, anyway.
“Let me see how much of my hard work you undid today,” Rowan said, and came forward to check Lily’s injuries.
Rowan laid two fingers on the pulse point at Lily’s wrist. She saw his willstone flare enchantingly and became aware of the featherlight presence of him inside her skin. He was barely touching her with his fingertips, but the contact was still more intimate than if he’d slipped his hands under her dress.
“Better,” he said quietly.
“When will I be ready for the pyre?” she asked, keeping her hand close to his.
“You need at least another week.”
“Too long,” she replied with a little shake of her head. “Tomorrow, after I meet with Mary.”
“Mary?” he asked, surprised. “The leader of the tunnel gang?”
Lily replayed her meeting with Riley for Rowan, Caleb, and Tristan to bring them up to speed. After she was finished, Rowan picked up his argument with her where he’d left off.
“You still need to rest for a few more days at least.”
“We leave tomorrow. With or without Mary’s people.” “Lily—”
“Tomorrow,” she said firmly. “You have to get me ready for the pyre.”
Rowan knew what was happening to Lillian’s army without having to be shown. He knew every day they crept along was costing lives. Finally, he slipped his jacket off his shoulders with a sigh.
“There is something else I can do now that I have my full kit again. There’s an ink I couldn’t get my hands on once I left Lillian,” he said reluctantly.
“Ink?” Lily asked.
“Yes. It’s very rare, very old, and it’s going to hurt.”
Lily nodded and looked down at her hands. “Of course it will,” she said, trying to laugh her way through the fear.
“Tristan. I need you,” Rowan called as he headed toward what appeared to be a wall of solid rock beside the headboard of Lillian’s bed.
He laid his fingers carefully against the masonry, took a deep breath, and his willstone flared. The wall gave way with a grinding sound, pushing inward and sliding to the side to reveal a set of hidden stairs. Tristan looked surprised but followed Rowan up the stairway without a word of protest.
Lily frittered the next few minutes away while her mechanics prepared. Una and Juliet gave her uneven smiles that didn’t have the conviction to reach their eyes. Lily tried to comfort herself by thinking that whatever Rowan had planned couldn’t be worse than the pyre, although she knew that the pain of the pyre was offset by the rush of pleasure she got from the power it gave her. Something told her that whatever Rowan had planned would have very little upside to it.
When Rowan returned for her she was trying her best to be brave. He didn’t look at her when he led her up the stone stairway and through a trapdoor that led out onto the roof.
The stars were out, adorning a sickle moon that glowed gold in the warm summer sky. Beneath the horns of the moon an enormous speaking stone glimmered like an opal pillar that was subtly lit from within. Lily found herself drawn to the speaking stone, and nearly had her hands on it when she heard Rowan call her name.
“Lily. Over here,” he said.
She turned and saw a familiar square of black silk spread out and waiting for her. Rowan and Tristan knelt between the runes they had drawn on the silk in salt. They had nothing else with them but a bowl, a long silver needle, and a tiny mallet.
“We’ll start with you sitting up,” Rowan said.
Lily sat down in front of Rowan with her legs crossed. He gestured for Tristan to sit behind her, and Lily felt his hands take her head and tilt it to expose the long stretch of skin from her ear to her collarbone.
“This will leave a mark,” Rowan said.
Lily took a breath and let it out slowly to steady herself. But she didn’t stop him. A haze of light expanded out from Rowan’s willstone, like a bright fog that spun outward to wrap them up in glinting tendrils. He dipped the tip of the needle in the bowl, picked up the mallet, and began tapping the end in a quick staccato.
Lily felt the pricking of the tattoo behind her ear. As the ink started to sink into her skin an itch turned into a burn. The burn began to build.
“Hold her,” Rowan ordered, and Tristan’s hands clamped down on Lily’s head.
Even when Rowan paused momentarily to dip his needle, the burning kept mounting, and soon she couldn’t even feel the prick of the needle over the sting of the ink. A cold sweat broke down her back, and as Rowan tapped the tattoo farther down the side of her neck, she started to shiver. She wasn’t burning. She was freezing.
Tristan had to take more of her weight as the icy acid in the ink started to leach into her blood and chill her from the inside out. Lily could feel the cold sliding down her insides as if she’d swallowed an ice cube. Her teeth began to chatter.
“Okay. Lay her back,” Rowan said.
Lily felt herself being put down and opened her eyes. The stars whirled above. The steady tapping and the cold burn began again along the lower part of her right ribs. Lily tracked the paths of the stars to keep her mind off Rowan’s never-ending tattoo. He worked down from her ribs and curved inside the hip bone, ending just above her bikini line.
“Last one,” he said, and started on the top of her left thigh.
She was numb with cold by the time he had spiraled around the inside of her thigh and ended the third tattoo at the back of her left knee. Rowan ended the spell. The light in his willstone heaved and then went out.
In the absence of his magelight, the soft scintillation of the speaking stone caught Lily’s eye again. Half in and half out of her body to hide from the pain, Lily let her other eye swim in the light of the speaking stone. She idly wondered whether she could reach Pale One and called softly to her claimed Woven.
Lily’s mind seemed to jump into a fast-moving river, and the impressions of places whizzed past her. She saw hills and valleys and then mountains and vast plains. Her other eye skipped from speaking stone to speaking stone, each stone tinting the world a slightly different color, until finally her mind settled inside the claimed she’d named Pale One. Lily waded through a tangle of scents so strong and clear they glowed like colors that painted the whole world, and high-contrast images seen through eyes that were not built like her own. The mind she touched pieced information together differently than Lily’s did, but after a few tries, she deciphered this . . .
Inside, follow. Unseen, but here with me, she calls. Bite itch and lick. Need to howl, but stop. Biggers are close. Smell sweet stink of Biggers’ honey.
Lily asked Pale One if she could join her, and then her vision exploded with color and light. After a dizzying moment, Lily realized she was looking at a fern. She concentrated and panned out with Pale One’s achingly sharp eyes to see a glade, deep in the redwood forest. The colors she saw were richer, and she could see the edges of things more distinctly.
Lily felt the earth under Pale One. She felt the old minds of the trees, their roots running deep and holding the ground to their hearts like million-fingered hands. She read the vibration of the land. It was the low, thunderous rumble of a giant lung, the trees breathing for the whole world. Lily stored the vibration in her willstone and released Pale One.
Run to the rising sun, Lily commanded. Go east until you are safely out of Hive territory.
She calls. I run to where the wolves tend their meat, Pale One responded.
She saw Rowan’s face hovering over hers. His worried frown broke with relief. “Where did you go?” he asked softly.
Lily was about to tell him, but she thought of the expression of barely controlled disgust on his face when she told the coven about Pale One and stopped herself. Instead she just smiled and struggled to sit up.
She looked down at the two tattoos she could see, and was relieved to find out that although they were long, they were as thin as ribbons, and the ink Rowan had used was a very pale pink. She ran her finger over the tattoo on her leg and felt it more than she saw it. It looked like lace had been inserted under her skin.
“Is it going to stay raised like that?” she asked.
“Yes,” Rowan replied. “The compound I tattooed under your skin will help you heal faster each time you go to the pyre. It’s permanent, though.”
Lily studied the delicate filigree of the design. “Does Lillian have one?”
“She has two. One running down her back, and another down the inside of her right leg. I gave you three.”
Rowan’s face was impassive, but Lily noticed he didn’t meet her eyes. She wondered when he had given them to Lillian, and if they had been in love at the time.
“They’re quite pretty,” Tristan said appreciatively.
Lily smiled but didn’t say anything. She touched the one behind her ear that ran in a thin line down the side of her neck. It hurt, but the pain was going away quickly, as was the lingering pain from her burns. She felt stronger, and for the first time in her memory, she actually felt cool.
“Thank you,” she said.
Rowan nodded. “It’s my job,” he said, and then frowned uncertainly.
“It is your job, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Lily said. “You’re my head mechanic. If you want to be.”
Tristan helped Lily stand, but she found that as soon as she was upright, she didn’t need help anymore. She went to the speaking stone and stared at its milky white beauty.
“My army,” she whispered, and her mind whipped through the darkness, into the forest, past hordes of swarming Woven, and into another speaking stone that tinted the world blue. There, it swung over rolling hills until, finally, it settled with the thousands of her claimed still under Alaric’s rule.
Many slept, but those who were awake felt the light touch of her mind—not so much that they would be aware of it, but enough so that a brief thought of her would flutter through their minds like wind across a pond.
“He’s gathered them together to march west,” Lily murmured, her mind half here and half there.
“Do you know where they are?” Rowan asked. “I haven’t been able to reach Alaric. He’s too far.”
“Outside of Richmond.” She snapped out of it and gathered her robe around her against the chill. “That’s our first stop.”
Rowan nodded. “But first, you need to rest for one more night.”
Gavin awoke Lily at dawn more anxious than usual, which pushed him well into frantic territory. She heard him pounding on the door and she stirred in Rowan’s arms, not clear on how she’d gotten there. All she remembered after getting the tattoo was having something to eat with her coven, and then she went right to bed.
Rowan took a sleepy breath and threw the covers over Lily’s bare shoulders. “Come,” he called to Gavin, allowing entry.
“The Citadel is surrounded!” Gavin shouted as he tumbled into Lily’s room. “They came out of nowhere—just popped up from underground—the streets are full of them!”
Rowan was out of bed and sprinting up the hidden staircase with Tristan and Caleb close behind before Lily had even sat up. When she, Una, and Breakfast finally made it up there, Lily could see the tops of the Citadel bristling with the skeleton guard that Lillian had left behind to defend the city. Down below, outside the Citadel gates, the streets of Salem swarmed with people. The ragtag multitude packed every inch of street for at least a dozen blocks back, and possibly farther.
“Oh. Hi, Riley,” Breakfast called down to the young man standing at the entrance to the Citadel gates. Riley saw Breakfast and waved back.
Mary stood next to Riley. When she saw Lily come forward between Rowan and Tristan, she crossed her arms.
“Is this a big enough army for you?” Mary yelled up.
Lily looked at the masses filling the streets, reckoning their numbers in the thousands, and tried to pull her flimsy nightgown more tightly over her. She felt Rowan’s arm wrap around her as he tilted his bare shoulders to cover her from one too many covetous stares. The crowd below was not the most respectable-looking bunch, but there were scores of them, and they looked like they were spoiling for a fight, which was exactly what Lily needed.
“It’s a good start,” she yelled back. Mary actually laughed at that.
“Gavin. Arrange to have the Witch’s guests meet her in the main hall,” Rowan instructed.
After Gavin rushed off, Rowan led the coven back downstairs. He started throwing open the doors to closets and pulling out clothes. He rifled through Lillian’s dresses until he found the one he was looking for and passed it to Lily.
“Here, put this on,” he said absently before crossing to a closet on the other side of the room. This closet was filled with his wardrobe, which he started passing out to the guys. “Una, you might like Juliet’s clothes better,” he suggested while he dug through his things.
“Yeah, these aren’t exactly my style,” Una said, laughing at Lillian’s collection of tiny scraps of gauze that were barely held together by jewels.
Lily looked at what Rowan had chosen for her and decided not to argue. She understood why he wanted her to wear a proper witch’s gown. If she was going to drag these people into a war, they had to see her as a leader. She had to become the Salem Witch in their eyes.
“I guess someone should explain to the new recruits where we’re going and how Lily’s getting us there. Make sure they’re all signed on for this,” Breakfast said.
“I nominate you,” Una said, dropping a peck on his cheek as she passed him on her way to Juliet’s room.
“Any objections?” he asked hopefully, but everyone begged off. “I’ll find Riley,” he said with a sigh, and went off to spread the word.
Lily freshened up in the bathroom before she slid into the black silk dress inlaid with rubies. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw her red hair, which seemed to have grown three more inches overnight, billowing down her shoulders, and her pale skin glowing even whiter against the black silk.
She came out of the bathroom and saw Rowan waiting for her, dressed all in black and looking brutally beautiful. The collar of his shirt was open to show off his huge willstone, which danced with light and power. He held something sparkly in his hand.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice catching as he stared at her.
Lily felt him place something on her head. He angled her toward a mirror and she saw that it was a spiked crown of iron and diamonds. The Salem Witch’s crown. Lily remembered it from Lillian’s memory. It was a cruel-looking thing, twisted and sharp. The metal was burnt black where it wasn’t shining with white diamonds. Rowan opened a case and showed her what was nestled in the velvet inside. Matching shackles. Lily smiled wryly at them, remembering Lillian and how she had balked, refusing to wear them. She wouldn’t even look at them.
Rowan put the matching iron-and-diamond cuffs on her wrists and locked them shut. The cuffs came complete with rings ready to chain her to the pyre.
Lily turned her wrists over and heard the metal clink. Every gesture she made would be accompanied by the sound of iron chains. She watched a slow smile spread on Rowan’s face as she realized that she was a prisoner as much as she was a queen.
“So this is what it is to be a warmonger witch,” she said, breath fluttering.
“You are chained to your claimed as much as they are to you,” he replied. “And if you fail, you burn.”
Lily looked up at him and knew he would never let that happen. He’d pulled her from the fire before, and he’d do it again because he loved her.
Tristan appeared in the doorway, sensed that he was interrupting, and dropped his eyes. “They’re ready for you, Lily,” he said.
Rowan and Lily took a guilty step back from each other.
“We should go down first,” Rowan said to Tristan and then turned back to Lily. “Wait five minutes and then come down.”
“You’re not coming with me?” she asked, her voice piping with nerves.
“This is your moment,” he replied with a little shake of his head.
Instead of going to the door, Lily crossed farther inside the room.
“They’re expecting you,” Rowan said, not understanding what she was doing.
“I know,” she replied, and went to the wall behind the bed. She started feeling around the chinks in the masonry. “I’m not going to claim them one at a time. There are too many. I have to use the speaking stone. Like Grace does.”
Lily felt the catch and pressed it. The hidden doorway swung open and she gestured up the secret stair.
“Will you be able to claim them that way?” Tristan asked.
“Yes, she will, as long as they consent to it,” Rowan answered for her.
They climbed up the secret staircase together, Tristan in front of her and Rowan beside her. She could feel the flurry of their mindspeak swirling about her head like a buffeting wind, but she didn’t need to be a part of it.
She pulled Rowan’s arm against her side and let herself feel the shape of his arm under his sleeve. She felt cold and pressed the solidness of him against her. He glanced down at her cautiously, like he was watching something wild and rare that would run off if he looked too closely.
She could hear the low murmur rising up from the throng of people waiting for her before she reached the edge. She placed a hand on the cold granite of her keep and leaned out so everyone could see her. Silence fell over the multitude.
The drawbridge had been lowered, and the doors of the castle had been opened onto the bailey. People filled the hall and the bailey; they streamed over the drawbridge and, for all Lily could see, they were packed several streets deep into the city. All of them waiting to be claimed. In the silence, Lily’s iron shackles clanked. She looked down at her wrists already rubbed red by the rough metal and felt their eyes on her like a watchful sea. She raised her head, ready now. For a moment she saw herself as they saw her—terrible and glorious as a blizzard.
“Are you willing to be claimed?” she asked. Her voice drifted through the silence and came to each individual as if she had whispered it privately in his or her ear.
“We are,” they answered together.
She crossed to the speaking stone and looked into its soft lights. At first she couldn’t think how to connect with all the waiting willstones below her. Before, she’d always had to touch a willstone to feel its unique vibration, and then once she had the pattern of it, she could use the vibration to unlock the bearer’s mind. She had to think of a way of finding the vibrations without touch, but she knew that if Grace could figure it out, so could she.
Nothing came to her. She took a step back and tried to calm down. Strangely she thought of the shaman, and of the time she spent with him in the oubliette. She wiped her mind of any expectations. This wasn’t a contest between her and Grace.
She stared into the speaking stone and waited.
“Those funny little lights. Look at ’em go,” she murmured to herself. She giggled under her breath at how alive they looked. Each little thread of light quivered through the lattice of the crystal in its own way. Some swam up, quivering quickly. Some swooped down slowly. Others looped sideways, making tight corkscrews. Each one moved in a unique pattern, each one an individual mind. Lily laughed aloud when she figured it out.
She realized that the speaking stone worked like a net, gathering up the vibrations of every willstone nearby and displaying each of them as a vibrating string of light. Lily worked as fast as she could, her eyes skipping through the speaking stone as she learned the thousands of different vibrations. She imprinted each inside her willstone before moving on to the next. When she had them all, she played the strings’ vibrations back like many voices singing one sweeping song, and claimed them all. Lily blinked her eyes and sighed.
“It’s done,” she said.
Rowan and Tristan escorted her back down to the bailey where the rest of her mechanics were waiting. They stood arranged in front of her pyre, which they’d built right in the middle of the bailey. The pyre was splintered and thorny, and the stake stood tall in the center, its chains dangling. A thrill ran through her, equal parts fear and hunger.
Can you jump this many? The question came from Rowan, but she knew her whole coven was thinking it. She didn’t answer because she didn’t know.
Lily climbed the pyre, pulled the chains through her shackles herself, and locked them with a small snick. The new additions to her army watched. An anxious susurration rose from their ranks.
“Light it,” she said.