CHAPTER
3
“It’s like body origami,” Lily said.
Juliet made an exasperated sound, looked down at the instructions, and then back up at Lily’s obi. The kimonos they’d been loaned for that afternoon’s outing to the docks were point-and-click, but the fancy dress kimonos for that evening’s ball were an entirely different matter.
“No—you have to fold that down twice, and then twist it. Can that be right?” Juliet studied the obi. “Yeah. That’s it. Down twice, then twist, then tie.” She did it for Lily. “There.”
Lily looked at herself in the mirror. She looked glorious in the petal-pink, crimson-red, and soft-cream kimono with a cherry blossom pattern. Her hair was swept up in lacquered combs and her face was subtly painted. The more layers of luxury this place seemed to pile on top of her, the more smothered she felt. She didn’t want to look beautiful. She resisted the perverse urge to spit at the liar in the mirror.
“I’m hot,” she said.
“You’ll live,” Juliet replied unforgivingly and then switched to mindspeak. You were quiet today.
So were you.
I had nothing to add, Juliet replied. Then, she suddenly changed her mind. Why the perimeter wall? Why is this city walled off like Salem if they’re not afraid of the Woven?
I don’t know, Juliet. There must be something they’re not telling us.
Una barged into Lily’s bathroom—yards of icy-blue silk in an ocean-wave pattern hanging off her—looking like a kid in her mother’s date-night robe. “I’ve had it with this thing,” she said flatly.
“Juliet, you do hers and I’ll do yours.”
They formed a train. Lily helped her sister wrap, tie, and rewrap her yellow kimono with a sunset pattern fairly easily, but Una was in worse shape. She had to strip down to the bottom layer and start over.
“No wonder the Japanese are so smart,” Una muttered. “You need a frigging PhD to get into their dang clothes.”
Careful, Una. You don’t know if they have PhD’s here, Lily reminded her in mindspeak. She couldn’t see it, but she knew at least one Worker was inside the trumpet of an enormous tiger lily blossom in her bathroom.
That was careless of me, but this place is so nerve-racking, Una replied. And all the perfume is giving me a headache.
You don’t trust perfect, Lily said in mindspeak.
My mom liked to pretend that things were perfect. That we were perfect. I pretended along with her for longer than I should have.
Lily glanced down at the rows of thin white scars on inside of Una’s forearm. They were hidden hatch marks that she’d given herself with a razor blade when she was a little girl—one for every time her mother’s boyfriend had touched her. Una knew she was looking at them.
“I’d like a drink,” Una announced.
“The boys have already started,” Lily told her, needlessly, though. Una and Breakfast were in near-constant contact, always sharing whispers of their thoughts. Lily had that once. It hurt to see it, so Lily made herself stare as they entered the sitting area and Breakfast held up a glass, already poured for Una. Lily didn’t need a razor blade to cut herself.
She caught Juliet watching her watching them, and the sisters shared a sad smile. Neither of them commented. They both knew what the other had given up.
At least I have her, Lily thought to Lillian. She felt her there, distracted, half listening, but not engaged.
Lily’s mechanics were impeccably dressed in the tunic-style of clothes that the men wore in Bower City, and although she was no expert on fashion here, even she could tell that the tailoring and the materials were a cut above what she’d seen so far in the city. The shoulders had crisp lines, the trousers were the perfect combination of structured and snug, and their shoes had the buttery look of the best Italian leather.
Tristan grinned at Lily when he saw her. “That took you half of forever,” he said, gesturing to her kimono.
She shrugged and tried to move away, but Tristan caught her elbow and made her stay with him.
“It was worth it, though,” he whispered. “You look stunning.”
He was too close—too close to her, and too close to being who she needed him to be—but not close enough. She couldn’t look him in the eye. She looked at his hands instead and noticed that his glass was full, and rightly guessed that he was already on his second drink. “What is that stuff?” she said, pointing to the crystal tumbler in his hand.
“Whatever it is, it’s amazing,” Caleb said.
The lights in Lily’s willstone twisted as she looked into the amber liquid and the perfect sphere of ice that rolled in it as if oiled.
“May I pour you one?” Toshi asked.
Lily turned to find him rejoining the group with another bottle. He was wearing a midnight-blue tunic that made him look longer and leaner. She looked away. “I don’t drink,” she said.
“Ever?”
“Once. That was enough.”
Toshi didn’t press her. “I don’t blame you. This stuff will teach you a lesson.” He filled a glass for Juliet. “The first time I had it was at a spring solstice party on the other side of town—a good twenty minutes on the trolley. The party was on the top floor of some rich guy’s apartment, and he’d had the whole floor carpeted with grass for people to sit on like they’re back in nature.” He paused to fill Caleb’s glass. “I take off my shoes like everyone else to feel the grass between my toes and have a few of these drinks. And then a few more. And then I think there were fireworks—either that or somebody hit me.” Tristan chuckled despite himself. “About then I realize it’s probably time to go, so I stagger out onto the street to wait for a trolley. Couldn’t find a trolley if it ran over me. So I walked home.” He refilled Una’s glass, taking another well-timed pause. “I wake up the next day and my feet are just killing me.” His sparkling eyes lifted to meet Lily’s. “I’d left my shoes. I was so stinking drunk I hadn’t noticed I’d walked halfway across the city barefoot.”
Everyone laughed, tipping into a huddle. Everyone except Lily. Toshi didn’t ruin his good story by stopping to bask in his own cleverness. Before the laughter had a chance to get stale, he put down the bottle, his demeanor turning crisp.
“Drink up, everyone,” he said. “Grace will kill me if I get you there too late.”
They finished up their drinks and he swept them downstairs, across the foyer, and through a side door that let out into an atrium. The fountain in the center was large enough to swim in and it was lit so invitingly Lily had an urge to do just that.
The thought of throwing off her clothes and wading into the water pestered her. Lily’s lips twitched as she stifled an upwelling of mirth. So many inappropriate impulses were fighting to come out of her. She wanted to tear off her clothes, break every mirror she walked by, and tell everyone in the world to go to hell.
I think I’m going crazy, Lily said, reaching out for Lillian.
You’re not, Lillian answered. That would be easier, though.
You’ve felt like this?
Sure. Dozens of times, but most acutely when I took the crown.
What crown?
It would be quicker to show you . . .
. . . Rowan raises the crown over my head, and for the first time I get a good look at it in the mirror. The crown of the Salem Witch is made of burnt iron and diamonds. It’s a cruel-looking thing, barbed and jagged, frosted with icy jewels. It’s a thing of gothic beauty, born of fire and pressure. Like the Salem Witch herself.
That’s me now. I’m the Salem Witch. At thirteen that makes me the youngest in history. As Rowan places it on my head all I can think is finally, as if I’ve waited centuries.
“Proud of yourself?” Rowan teases.
“Let’s go,” I say, rolling my eyes and trying not to blush.
“Are you sure you don’t want those?” Rowan gestures down into the black silk for the rest of the Salem Witch’s crown jewels. I balk. I don’t even want to look at them.
“I’m not going to the pyre this instant,” I say, rubbing my wrists absently. “It’s overkill.”
Rowan nods and covers them so I don’t have to see them. I’ve heard that the blood of other Salem Witches is scored into the metal, baked there by such high heat that nothing could ever really scour them clean. I’m not ready for the shackles of my new position. Not yet. Tonight I just want the crown.
We go downstairs and all eyes land on me. Councilmen smear on their smarmiest congratulations. The heads of the other twelve Covens narrow their eyes in dislike while they congratulate me, their smiles wide and frozen.
Laughter froths inside me. I try to stamp it down, but the more solemn I try to behave, the more I find myself fighting the urge to bray like a donkey. I’m a liar. I’ve somehow convinced this pack of fools that I’m good enough for this, but I know I’m not, and soon they’re all going to figure out what a fraud I am.
I want to laugh in everyone’s face, I say to Rowan.
Don’t, Rowan warns. They already hate you.
If they already hate me, then why bother?
Lillian—
But it’s too late. I’m already laughing, laughing, laughing in their stupid faces . . .
Lillian breezed out of Lily’s mind again, called away by something urgent. Lily wondered what it was that kept diverting Lillian’s attention, but she supposed that being the Salem Witch would keep one busy. Lily had never filled that role personally or experienced much of it through Lillian’s or Rowan’s memories.
It seemed like every memory of Lillian’s had Rowan in it. Lily was beginning to wonder whether there was any part of Lillian’s life that didn’t include him. At least, any part she cared to remember.
Lily, are you okay? It was Juliet. Lily looked at her and shook her head.
I feel like I’m losing it. What are we doing here, Jules?
Juliet shook her head and shrugged, wearing a helpless grin. As Lily smiled back she realized that she’d called this Juliet Jules—that was the nickname she had only ever used for her actual sister. She didn’t regret it, though, or wish she could take it back. It comforted her too much.
Toshi brought the coven across the atrium and to another wing of Grace’s enormous mansion, where the ball was already in progress.
A slim Indian woman in her mid-twenties met them before they could slip in through one of the sets of French doors that opened into the atrium from the ballroom.
“Toshi. Grace is waiting,” she said. Her voice was tight and her sharp smile didn’t make it up to her eyes. She wore a smoke-colored willstone. It wasn’t as dark or as large as Grace’s, but it was still impressive. Lily belatedly recognized her as one of the attendants who came with Grace and Toshi to the field of flowers earlier that day.
“We’ve met, but we haven’t been introduced,” Lily said, putting herself forward. The woman recoiled slightly, as if Lily were some blundering hick.
“I’m sorry,” Toshi apologized, making it seem as if the breach in etiquette was his fault. “Lily Proctor, this is Mala Nehru—Lieutenant Governor of Bower City.”
“You look much better,” Mala said, her lips smiling but her eyes narrowed.
“Feeling great,” Lily said. Her return smile was made through gritted teeth.
“Good. All these people are here to see you, after all. We wouldn’t want you to be feeling poorly.” Mala stepped uncomfortably close. Lily felt her mechanics stiffen and silently told them to keep back. For a moment she thought Mala was going to try to uncover the other two willstones she’d hidden inside her obi, but instead Mala untied the outer sash and retied it while she spoke. “You knot once, twist—like this—and then tuck the edges.”
“Thank you,” Lily said, meeting and holding Mala’s eyes. They were standing close enough to kiss. Lily didn’t back away.
“Anything I can do to help,” Mala answered before turning and leading them into the ballroom.
That was creepy, Breakfast said to the coven in mindspeak. Do we have to follow her?
The coven laughed under their breath to relieve some of the tension. Toshi watched their changing demeanor like a kid pressed against a candy shop window.
She’s just trying to throw you off balance, Juliet said to Lily in mindspeak. It’s such an obvious power play it makes her look weak.
Juliet had a knowing smirk on her face as her eyes followed Mala into the ballroom. This Juliet, the one who’d been raised alongside Lillian, knew how to navigate a nest of vipers.
Keep telling me things like that, Lily replied, and stepped between the billowing curtains that framed the French doors.
Inside, the chandeliers overhead filled the room with a bubbly golden light, as if the air had been infused with champagne. Gilded walls and sparkling glass doors bounced that light around until it fell in soft focus upon the jewel-like people. The style of dress seemed to favor kimonos, but there were also some saris and a few dresses that appeared to be from the Georgian era in England. Some of the men and women wore war paint, but it was placed to please rather than intimidate. Everyone looked slim, healthy, and relatively young.
Flowers exploded from vases. Flowers were pinned up in ladies’ hair. Flowers decorated the buttonholes of men’s jackets. Flowers adorned every table, and Lily knew that in some of those flowers a Worker was picking its way through the petals on needle-like toes.
As Lily entered the ballroom, heads turned. Drinks were halted halfway to mouths. Eyes stared, unblinking. Lily resisted the urge to look at the floor, and instead met some of the stares. No one held her gaze or tried to engage her attention.
If they’re all here to meet me, she asked Juliet, why are they avoiding me?
They’re here to see you, not meet you.
I feel like an idiot.
Keep your chin up, Juliet encouraged. Lily felt her sister briefly squeeze her hand before letting it go.
Mala melted into the crowd, abandoning Lily without making one introduction. As jostling bodies swallowed Mala’s lithe figure, a man’s thick shoulders replaced hers. He was making his way toward them, lifting a hand to hail them. He was tall, well over six feet, and he had thinning blond hair and blue eyes that reminded Lily of sky rather than ice. His features were thick, his cheeks were ruddy, and his chin was dimpled by a deep cleft. Physically, he looked about thirty, but he might have been nearer to fifty for all the cares he seemed to carry. Around his neck he wore the largest golden willstone Lily had ever seen.
For kitchen magic—simple but tiring stuff to make, like cleansing mists and water purifiers. Useful guy, Lily thought, and wondered whether Lillian was listening. She could feel Lillian in the back of her head, but she wasn’t actively engaged. Lily could sense that Lillian was occupied with something that was taking her whole attention again.
“Ah, Toshi,” he said, approaching them with a distracted look. He pulled Toshi aside to tell him something in private and then turned his attention to Lily’s coven. “So, we’re all here, then?” he said, smiling broadly.
He looks like a retired boxer, Breakfast whispered in Lily’s mind. His description was so dead-on that Lily had to stifle a snicker.
“Good to see you again,” Juliet said, recognizing him as the final member of the trio of attendants that came with Grace to welcome them into the city.
“And you,” he said. “You were all a bit too tired for introductions when we first met. I’m Ivan Volkov. Head Mechanic of Bower City.”
Lily’s coven greeted the Head Mechanic. She noticed Ivan marking Caleb’s golden willstone, and the two of them sharing an exchange of understanding. Golden stones weren’t given as much glory as smoke or rose stones, and because of that their bearers tended to be overlooked. Ivan’s position as Head Mechanic was exceptional—something that Lily couldn’t imagine happening back east.
“I’m sure we’ll speak more later,” Ivan said with an apologetic smile. He was a busy man, apparently, and left them, saying, “Ah, Simon,” in the same tone he’d used to greet Toshi.
“That’s Ivan,” Toshi said, smiling after him warmly. They continued on toward the far side of the room.
“You’re fond of him,” Lily remarked.
“He’s my mentor. Not that Ivan picks favorites,” he amended quickly. “That’s why we all respect him so much. He gives each of us an equal chance to advance.”
“He’s from Russia?” Una guessed.
“His family was, like my family was from Japan. But it’s been so long since the Hive has allowed anyone new to immigrate to the city no one here is really from anyplace else anymore.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Why do you think we’re throwing you this party?”
“You know, I’m not really sure.” Lily looked up at Toshi, testing him. She spread her hands to indicate the glittering room. “It’s a bit much.”
“Being chosen is a big deal,” he assured her. “It hasn’t happened in almost twenty years. If you’re here, it’s for a reason.”
“So the Hive kidnaps people and flies them to a strange city to fulfill some kind of purpose?” Caleb asked. “What could a bunch of insects want from humans?”
Toshi turned to him, his face taut. “The Hive selects people. And all it wants is a well-run society.”
“Oh, great,” Breakfast said wryly. “Because perfect societies never have a downside.”
Toshi laughed, dispelling the tension. “No one ever claimed Bower City was perfect,” he said. “But it is well run.”
They arrived at a large table, where Grace was half listening to Mala say something in her ear. Grace saw Lily arrive and stood before Mala had finished.
“Lily. Thank you for coming,” she said, looking pleased. She was wearing a buckskin suede dress decorated with turquoise beads and an impressive feathered headdress. Tribal paint streaked her face and dotted her shoulders and thick silver bracelets were clipped over her wrists like gauntlets.
Lily didn’t have a response, so she just smiled. Grace invited Lily to sit next to her. Mala was obliged to move down a chair, which she did with pursed lips. Toshi and the rest of Lily’s coven seated themselves around the table. Ivan circled back to place his drink down between Tristan and Caleb before he darted off again. Once everyone had claimed a seat, there was still an extra place setting.
“Did you enjoy your visit to the docks?” Grace asked.
Lily pulled her gaze away from the empty seat. “Some of us more than others,” she replied.
“Oh? Was there a problem?” Grace directed her question at Toshi.
“Just culture shock,” Toshi assured her.
“Yes,” Grace said. “I suppose it would be hard to take in, wouldn’t it?” Caleb made a disgusted sound. “Speak your mind,” Grace urged. “You didn’t like it?”
“Oh, the ships, the trade, that’s all great,” Caleb said, a knife-edge gleam in his eyes. “For you.”
“Go on,” Grace said, knowing there was more.
“You’re wearing a sachem’s headdress, but you’ve left your people to die.”
“Bower City is where my people are,” Grace replied gently. Caleb shook his head, rejecting her answer.
“You could send out scouts right now and tell the Outlanders that there are no Woven in the west,” he persisted. “They don’t need your charity if you’re worried about refugees, and they wouldn’t have to come here to the city. They could build one of their own. There’s plenty of room.”
“Okay, say I do send out scouts,” Grace said hypothetically. “For those who manage to get past the Pride and the Pack, what happens to the ones the Hive doesn’t accept?”
“Thousands would die,” Mala answered, on cue.
“Thousands are dying,” Caleb shot back.
Mala opened her mouth to say something, but Grace raised a hand to silence her. “Caleb, do you know what the Hive wants? What guides its choices? Or why it kills some and accepts others?” she asked. Grace leaned in, holding his eyes. “What if the Hive decides it’s done accepting people altogether and it kills everyone who tries to make the crossing? I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of whole tribes being wiped out.”
Caleb looked away.
“So we can’t tell anyone,” Tristan said. He raised an eyebrow. “And I’m sure if we promise not to say anything, you’ll let us leave and go back home.”
“Go north, go south—there isn’t anything out there, but you’re welcome to look,” Grace said. “I’m afraid the Hive will stop you if you try to go east, though.”
“Why? What do they care which way we go?” Lily asked, her frustration evident. Again, she found herself encountering a strange “rule” that the Woven followed for no apparent reason. No one hazarded an answer.
“I’m sorry to be the one tell you this, but the Hive won’t let you go east,” Grace said. “You’re welcome to stay here, at least.”
White-gloved porters filled all the water glasses. Lily stared at the one waiting in front of the empty chair, sitting there like an unanswered question.
“What’s the rest of the world like?” Juliet asked, breaking the long silence. “Are there witches and mechanics in other countries?”
“Not like here,” Grace said. “There are people with talent all over the world, but they lack the means to harness it.”
“Harness?” Juliet repeated vaguely, and then understanding dawned on her. “Willstones. You’ve kept the secret.”
“We have,” Grace said.
“In our history books back east it says that before the Woven Outbreak—which threw everything into chaos—the process for growing willstones was the most carefully guarded secret that the covens had,” Juliet said, as if to edify the westerners about eastern ways, but really it was to catch Una, Breakfast, and Lily up on the history of this world before they misspoke. “Even still, growing willstones is the last thing that only the most advanced mechanics learn in their training.”
“We do things differently here,” Ivan said delicately.
“Only the Bower Witch and two mechanics are trusted with the formula at any given time,” Mala continued for him.
“When either the Head Mechanic or his second dies, another is supposed to be chosen immediately so that the formula isn’t lost,” Toshi said, finishing the explanation. He looked at Ivan, and many chapters of their story together passed silently between them.
“So, only three people grow willstones for everyone in Bower City?” Una asked.
“The mechanics handle the growing, and they only do that for people who have talent,” Mala corrected. “We don’t give willstones to just anyone, like you do in the east.”
“I’m guessing you also don’t give willstones to people in other countries,” Lily said.
“Not unless they’re selected for immigration and come to live in Bower City,” Grace replied.
“But crucibles and mechanics in other countries can’t get willstones from the east because it’s closed,” Breakfast said, confused.
“Which means Bower City has a monopoly on magic itself and all the medicines, products, and power that you can create with it,” Juliet said, leaning back in her chair. She shot Grace one of her disappointed looks that Lily knew too well, pursing her lips and gently shaking her head.
“All over the world,” Tristan muttered, impressed. “They have to come to you. No wonder your docks are so busy.”
Grace tipped her head in assent. She could see that the easterners disapproved. “Greece kept the secret for Greek fire so well the knowledge of its making went extinct with their culture. China managed to keep the secret of making silk from the rest of the world for hundreds of years,” she said unapologetically. “Bower City keeps the secret of willstones.”
“And you’ve profited from it greatly,” Juliet said, her frown deepening.
“Yes. Our city is rich and our people want for nothing,” Grace said. “Tell me, on your trip down to the docks, or earlier when you came through the Forum, did you see any slums? Or people begging on the street?”
“No. Because you don’t have anything like that in Bower City, do you, Grace?” Lily said.
“We don’t,” she replied, smiling. “Isn’t it incredible? We’ve eradicated poverty.”
Caleb made the same disgusted sound he’d made at the beginning of the conversation. “For you,” he said again.
Lily thought of all the crucibles and mechanics around the world whose talent had been stunted because the Hive hadn’t selected them for immigration. She remembered her life before she came to this world—the migraines, the fevers, and the seizures that nearly killed her. She pushed her chair back from the table with a scraping sound.
“You know what? I don’t think I’m hungry,” she said.
“I’d really like for you to stay,” Grace said. “There’s someone else about to join us.”
Lily stood, ignoring the shocked faces of her coven and how their eyes kept darting over her shoulder. “Really. I think I’m done here.”
“Lily,” said a voice behind her.
It was a low voice. A voice she hadn’t heard in months, but that she thought she heard at the edge of sleep nearly every night. Lily forced herself to turn and face him slowly.
“Rowan.”
Lily didn’t feel the chair under her, but she did feel her spine jolt as she landed on it. Tristan, Caleb, and Una stood up as Lily sank, their shock quickly turning to anger. Silly questions, like “How’d you get here?” were asked, and needless statements like “We left you with Alaric” were made.
Obviously, the Hive selected him and brought him to Bower City, she said to Lillian. And, He must not have stayed with Alaric. He must have been following us the whole time. For months. He followed us right into Hive territory and the Hive took him like they took us.
Either Caleb or Tristan wanted to hit him. Maybe it was both of them, but Lily couldn’t tell because she could feel that both of them also wanted to embrace him as well. Voices were raised. A pinprick of annoyed heat grew into a dime-size dot that throbbed behind her left eye. Tempers flared higher. Soon her entire head was hot and buzzing until she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Enough,” Lily said.
She’d barely whispered it, but a ripple of energy had traveled out of her with the single word, like a stone dropped into a pond. Her claimed gripped at their heads as if a piercing noise was deafening them. Every person in the ballroom was buffeted away from Lily, knocked back with the surge. Glass tinkled as it broke.
Dark streaks fell to the ground outside. The frames of the now-shattered glass doors burst open, and Warrior Sisters scudded in on their long ostrich-like legs. Their exo-armor glinted black over their tiger-striped skin, and their whips quivered in their human hands.
Lily’s witch wind moaned as it raced to her. Her mechanics drew in a united breath at the precipice of the Gift. She felt Rowan’s mind click into place inside hers, diamond bright and strong. Need almost overwhelmed her.
“Lily, don’t!” Toshi called out, rushing to her side. A swarm of Workers flew in around their Sisters, blackening the air like a flurry of soot. “They’re reacting to your aggression. You have to stop!”
Lily felt her coven pulling at her, all of them ready to receive her power. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Grace’s scowling face and the words “warmonger witch” ran through her head.
She pulled back, releasing her mechanics, and hoped it wasn’t too late. She felt a jumble of mindspeak hit her at once as they argued with her.
What are you doing?
We’re defenseless . . .
They’re going to attack.
We’ve already lost.
“Just wait,” Lily said aloud. The last mindspeech had definitely come from Rowan, and he was right. Her coven was dusted with Workers. Without a pyre she’d never be able to give them enough strength to survive the stings.
Lily felt a Worker crawl across her bare throat. She looked at the nearest Sister, trying to pierce through the rainbow sheen covering her bulbous black eyes, and trained every nerve in her body to fight the urge to slap the Worker away. The Sister flicked her whip and shivered her wings in agitation, but she made no move forward.
“I’ve stopped,” Lily said to her.
The Sister’s monstrous head swiveled lightning fast atop her stalk neck, but her tense posture didn’t change. Lily had no idea if she understood or not, or even if this particular Sister was their leader. There was no distinction among them that Lily could see. Lily had chosen her simply because she was closest.
Everyone stay still. Lily—you can’t just behave as if you’re calm. You have to be calm, Rowan said in mindspeak.
She brushed his presence from her mind, annoyed that he felt like he had the right to advise her. She grudgingly followed his instruction nonetheless because she knew he was right. As Lily relaxed, so did the Hive. The Workers lifted off the coven’s skin and the Warrior Sisters moved back, their wings still.
With one more lightning-fast twitch of her head, the closest Warrior Sister leapt into the air. The rest of the Hive followed her, vacating the ballroom as swiftly as they had entered it.
Lily looked around the ballroom. Chairs and tables were knocked down in a blast pattern that formed a circle around Lily. All the guests were on the floor, too terrified to move or make a sound.
“You’ll have to get ahold of your temper.” Grace’s voice was raspy as it broke the stunned silence. “The Hive won’t allow that a second time.”
Lily found Grace watching her, a mixture of understanding and reproof in her look.
“I didn’t mean to—” Lily stopped and looked around. There was broken glass everywhere, and some people were bleeding from superficial cuts. She felt hot with embarrassment. “I apologize.”
“So do I,” Grace replied thoughtfully. She spread her hands between Rowan and Lily. “I thought that you’d been separated, and that this would be a happy reunion.”
Rowan furrowed his brow at Grace, but he held his tongue. The guests started to rise up off the floor and assess their injuries. Lily and her coven offered their assistance, but Ivan declined.
“It’s fine, really,” he said. “There are a quite a few people here who can heal, and it’d probably be better if you left. Toshi?” Ivan craned his head until he found his student. “Why don’t you take Lily and her coven back to their apartments?”
Toshi nodded and turned to Lily. He gestured with his head at Rowan. “Is he coming with you?”
Lily turned to Caleb. “Is he?” she asked him.
I don’t like it, but right now the more protection you have the better, Caleb answered in mindspeak.
Everyone in this room looks like they want to take a piece out of you, Una said in mindspeak, by way of agreement. Tristan, Breakfast, and Juliet gave their grudging assent.
“He can come,” she said, avoiding Rowan’s eyes.
As they passed on their way out, Mala hawked Lily’s every step.
. . . and the piece she’d like to take is your head, Una added.
Toshi came alongside Lily while they crossed the courtyard. “I could find another place for him,” he said quietly, gesturing to Rowan, who was lagging behind the rest of the coven.
“It’s okay,” Lily said. “Distance doesn’t make a difference.” She smiled ruefully. “I put a whole continent between us and that still didn’t help.”
Toshi frowned. “Is that why you came west? To get away from an ex?”
“Not exclusively.” Lily looked up at him. “And how do you know he’s my ex?”
“Experience, unfortunately.” Toshi looked sheepish. “I’ve made one or two girls angry enough to throw things at me. Never had a girl try to throw a whole ballroom at me before, though.”
Lily’s shoulders shook with a silent laugh, and Toshi watched her with an indecipherable look. “What?” she asked.
“I like making you laugh,” he said, surprised. His face suddenly clouded over. “Grace wasn’t kidding about the Hive not allowing another show of aggression from you.”
“I know,” Lily replied.
“But will you be alright with him?”
“I’ll be fine. I can control myself,” she said. She hoped. She gave him a weak smile. “I fought the Hive once, and I’m in no hurry to do it again.”
Toshi stared at her for a moment. “Incredible. No one fights the Hive,” he whispered under his breath, and then left her at the door to the guest suite.
Lily and her coven went straight to the men’s sitting room to have it out. She could feel them already arguing in mindspeak, although they hadn’t included her yet. The silence was like a scream.
Lily sat, waiting for someone to engage her while she stared at anything but Rowan. Someone had brought fresh flowers into the rooms while they’d been away.
She reached out to Lillian again, craving some kind of counsel. Rowan’s back, she said.
Good. You need him, Lillian finally replied. Forgive him and count yourself lucky that you have him back.
I don’t have him. He left me, remember?
He’ll always be yours—and you his. Stop wasting time. Lily sensed sweeping, jaw-grinding pain before Lillian quickly severed contact.
“Lily!” Tristan said sharply.
“What?” she replied, snapping back to the here and now.
“You’ve been blocking us all out again,” he said, his eyes narrowed.
“Oh.” Lily hadn’t been aware. That was the second time she’d barricaded them out of her head without realizing it.
“Who were you mindspeaking with?” Rowan asked with narrowed eyes. Lily didn’t respond.
“Do you want to chime in here, Lil?” Breakfast asked. “There’s a lot going on.”
She kept her face neutral, which wasn’t hard to do. Now that the excitement had passed she felt exhausted. “There isn’t much for me to say, is there? Rowan followed us, probably on Alaric’s orders, and he got taken by the Hive just like we did. That’s the why of him being here settled. Now, as to what he intends to do, it doesn’t really matter, does it? He’s too far to contact Alaric through mindspeak and I have no intention of allowing him close enough to me to be a threat.” She stood and smoothed her kimono, not looking at him. “If he tries to get too close, I’ll make him suffer. What was that he told me about Scot and Gideon? Claim your enemies. Well, I’ve already claimed him, and he may have surprised me once, but it won’t happen again. So that’s settled. Am I missing anything?”
“You don’t want to say anything to him or ask him any questions?” Juliet asked. Her big eyes were round with worry and a whispered name ghosted across her mind. Like Lillian.
Lily turned to her. “No. I really don’t. I’m going to bed.”
She felt the pull of him as she walked away—a heavy bending of space around his body that threatened to drag her to him. But every step got easier, and by the time she reached her room she didn’t feel Rowan’s weight at all.
Carrick waited patiently for someone to come to him. He’d been here for a day and a half and so far he’d only met lackeys. Lackeys never knew what to do with him. Whenever Carrick had visited the fancy homes of the powerful people who needed his talents, like Gideon and his father, the lackeys could never figure out if they should treat him as a guest because their masters needed him, or like scum because that’s what their masters thought of him.
The woman who came to get him that morning, Mala, was no different. She wasn’t stupid. She could sense what Carrick was, and she had no idea why her master—an Outlander named Governor Grace Bendingtree—would want to house a killer.
“Big party last night,” Carrick said. “I couldn’t see from my window, but I could hear it. There was a fight. Breaking glass and a witch wind.”
“Yes,” Mala replied. She kept her body angled slightly away from Carrick, like half of her was about to run away. “You’re not one of them, are you?”
“I know who they are. I know the witch, Lily. And she knows me,” he replied.
Mala swallowed, unnerved by the way he said Lily’s name. “Grace said you were following her.”
Carrick stared at Mala. There was something she wanted, but she was too afraid to ask. He started with the obvious. “You don’t seem to like Lily too much.”
Mala’s mouth trembled with all she wanted to say. “Do you like her?”
Carrick shrugged, noncommittal. “The things I do don’t leave much room for liking.”
“What things? Following people?”
“Sure,” he said. If she wanted to pretend that’s all he did, he’d let her. She knew better, though. But let her pretend for now.
“She’s staying in another wing of this building. Would you follow her for me?”
Carrick tipped his chin at the door. “There are no locks on the doors.”
Mala didn’t understand. “And?”
Carrick sighed. Maybe she wasn’t as smart as he’d thought, and if she wasn’t smart, maybe she wasn’t all that powerful. He didn’t care if she was dumber than a pickax. All he needed from Mala was someone influential enough to make sure he could come and go as he pleased, do as he pleased, and that was it. If she could handle that, then they had a deal.
“No one leaves me in a room without a lock on the door, unless they got something better to watch me,” he said.
“We don’t need locks here,” Mala said. “The Hive prevents violence.”
Carrick stood. Mala didn’t shrink from him. That was a good sign. She had some backbone. “Then if you want me to do what you can’t, you’re going to have to figure out how to keep the Hive away from me, aren’t you?” She nodded slowly, finally understanding him. “Until then, I’ll just follow.”