“Yes, really,” Lily said, offended. “How could you even think that about me?”
Rowan looked away, his hands planted on his hips. “This isn’t my decision, anyway. The sachem wants you trained.”
“And you don’t think I should be?”
“I think there are going to be a lot of people who are going to try to use you, whether I train you or not.”
He turned and started walking again, his brow furrowed in thought. Lily followed him cautiously. She knew not to push him to explain anymore.
“How is she? Your Samantha?” Rowan finally asked after a long silence.
“She’s sick, but still alive. I think, anyway.” Lily watched Rowan’s face. “You knew Samantha here?”
“Of course.” His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. “We were very close.”
“What happened to her?”
Rowan didn’t answer right away. “About a year ago, Lillian disappeared for three weeks.” He stopped again and swallowed hard. “Samantha said that Lillian was in front of us, inches away but beyond our reach. She said that Lillian was being destroyed from the inside out. We didn’t understand. Samantha decided that she had to go get Lillian on her own. She went to the pyre even though she knew she wasn’t a firewalker. It killed her.”
Lily moved closer to Rowan until their shoulders were nearly touching.
“What’s a firewalker?” she asked cautiously.
“It’s the final level of witchcraft. Very few attempt it. Most die.”
They continued along at a stroll, both of them slowed by the thought of losing Samantha.
“I’ve disappeared from my world just like Lillian did,” Lily whispered. “I have to go back, Rowan.”
He sighed and nodded. “I know.”
CHAPTER
7
The temperature started dropping even before the sun went down. Frost fell, lining the leaf litter underfoot with flaky, white ice. Even Lily felt chilled. Rowan stuffed his hands under his arms as they walked, trying to stay warm.
“Come here,” Lily said, putting her arm around his waist. Rowan startled at her touch, but when she didn’t let go, he wrapped an arm over her shoulder and hugged her to his chest. His whole body was trembling.
“We need shelter tonight,” he said through chattering teeth.
“How far are we from Salem?”
“Hours. I won’t make it,” he replied honestly. Lily started rubbing his arms with her hands, trying to chafe some warmth into him. She was really cold, something she couldn’t ever remember happening to her before, but Rowan was literally freezing to death.
“Can’t we build a fire?” she asked.
“Not out in the open. There are Woven tracks everywhere.” He paused before continuing. “But there is a cabin nearby.”
“What are we waiting for?” Lily asked enthusiastically.
“It was abandoned years ago when a Woven built her nest not far from it.” Rowan watched Lily’s face carefully. “The nest may be empty by now. And then again, it may not be. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
Lily felt him shaking in her arms and pushed down her own fear. “Let’s hurry.”
A grateful look crossed Rowan’s face, and he squeezed her a little tighter before turning and leading her quickly through the trees. They speed-walked for about half an hour, racing the lowering sun and the lowering temperature. Lily clamped on to Rowan’s hand, frightened that he was going to freeze to death before they got there.
“Can’t you take some heat from me?” she asked. Rowan shook his head tightly. “Does that mean you can’t or you won’t?” she pressed.
“W-won’t. You’re c-cold, too,” he said haltingly, his lips nearly numb. Lily started to protest, but Rowan cut her off. “The cabin is over the next rise,” he said, pulling her down behind a bush and crouching down next to her. “Wait here. I’ll go check it out. Don’t make a sound until I come back.”
“Rowan—” Lily began, but he’d already pulled out his knife and crept away on cat-quiet feet.
Lily peeked around the bush, trying to figure out where he’d gone. She couldn’t see anything but forest. She strained her ears listening for him, but all she heard was the wind and the creaking of the frozen limbs of the trees as they swayed and rubbed together. Lily stayed still, her breath tight in her chest as the forest darkened. More sounds joined the ghostly chorus of the trees—skittering, rustling sounds.
Lily edged her way back into the bush, drawing her knees up to her chin protectively as time passed. Too much time. She didn’t know anything about Woven behavior, but surely if Rowan were attacked, he’d fight back. She’d be able to hear that. Wouldn’t she?
Lily felt pressure on her forearm and jumped, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming.
“It’s me,” said Rowan’s disembodied voice. “The nest is empty.”
He dissolved out of the background and became visible again—the same way he had that night when he’d caught her trying to run away with Juliet. Lily almost threw her arms around him she was so relieved but settled for smiling at him instead.
Rowan pulled her up to her feet and held her hand as he led her through the dark trees. They walked for about five or ten minutes before Lily saw a clearing with a small stone cabin in its center. The cabin had a thick oak door studded with iron bolts, and a wide chimney that tilted atop the slated roof. It looked like it came out of a storybook. Lily could easily imagine a jack-o’-lantern by the front door and a black cat hissing at them from the crooked roof.
They pushed the door open, and Lily smelled the murky scent of moldering leaves and wet ash. Rowan’s willstone glowed, lighting up the pitch-black room. As he walked in front of her, Lily saw that Rowan’s body was edged with a halo of opalescent magelight. He looked big and otherworldly.
“There’s a candle around here somewhere,” he said. It took him a few moments to find it, and when he did, he brought it over to Lily.
One of his ice-cold hands snaked up the sleeve of her jacket and wrapped around her forearm.
“May I?” he asked tentatively.
Lily nodded, not sure what she was agreeing to. She felt a chill creeping under her skin and realized that Rowan was draining some of her heat. His eyes closed, and he swayed toward her until his sinking forehead nearly touched hers.
“Thank you,” he sighed. “I just need a little bit more to light this.”
Lily inhaled sharply as the cold sank down deeper into her. Rowan’s willstone sparked and the wick ignited. She shivered.
“Sorry,” he whispered, his eyes still closed.
“It’s okay.”
Lily watched the planes of his face, turned golden by the light of the candle between them. She wanted to touch his mouth. Rowan’s eyes flicked open, and he lifted his sagging head up and away from hers. He released her arm and pulled his hand out of her sleeve.
“There are preserves put up in the cabinet,” he said, turning toward the hearth.
A little bewildered about what had just happened, Lily followed the direction of his pointing finger to a small pantry while Rowan used the candle to light a fire in the hearth. Lily searched the nearly bare pantry and found four dusty jars.
“Blueberry jam,” Lily said, reading the first label. She turned the second jar around. “Dried crickets,” she read, confused. “Why would someone put dead bugs in the cabinet?”
“Because they’re nutritious,” Rowan replied evenly.
“No way,” Lily replied. “You don’t actually eat crickets, do you?”
“I haven’t had them in years,” Rowan said, more to himself than her, like he was reminiscing.
“Seriously?” Lily grimaced at the thought, but tried not to look too disgusted. She didn’t want to offend him.
“Only the richest of the Outlanders can afford to keep and protect livestock from the Woven. But nearly all of them have cricket farms in their living quarters.” He looked up at Lily’s wan expressi
on, his eyes glinting with humor. “I’d prefer the blueberry jam, though.”
Lily went back to inspecting labels. “Pickles!” she exclaimed happily, and more than a little relieved that he wasn’t going to try to make her taste cricket. “I love pickles.”
Rowan laughed under his breath and nodded while he fanned a small flame. “That’s because they’re mostly salt and vinegar. Two things you need desperately. Eat all of them.”
Lily took down the pickles and the jar of blueberry preserves and brought them over to Rowan.
“Does this mean no squirrel blood?” she asked, placing the jam on the hearth and handing him the pickles. He stopped what he was doing and, without needing to be told, started wrenching on the tightly sealed lid. A satisfying sucking sound followed.
“No squirrel blood,” he said, handing her the opened jar with a smile. “That ought to be enough salt to hold you over for a while.” He frowned suddenly. “We should still get you back to Salem soon though. We can’t live on our own in the woods forever.”
“And I didn’t let you cut off all my hair for nothing.” Lily started munching on the pickles, and her mouth watered with pleasure. “So good!” she mumbled around her food. “You explained the salt part, but why do I crave vinegar?”
“Vinegar is an antimicrobial, antiviral, and antibiotic. The less you have to fight internally, the stronger you are,” he said, feeding kindling to the small fire. “So you can fight your enemies instead.”
Lily crunched and nodded, too happy with her jar to ask any more questions. She sat down on the hearth, right up close to the tiny fire, and ate pickle after pickle. She’d never seen anyone build a fire in person before. The way Rowan watched it and fed it was fascinating to her. He took such care tending to its every whim that she’d finished all the pickles before he was done. Lily couldn’t think of anyone in her world who had that kind of patience.
“Aren’t you starving?” she asked.
“I am,” he replied, still stoking the growing flames.
“Eat,” she urged, nudging the jam in his direction.
“I will.” He glanced over at Lily’s pickle-less pickle jar. “Drink the brine,” he ordered gently.
Even though drinking pickle juice was something she would have considered disgusting just three days ago, Lily didn’t hesitate. When she’d finished the last drop, Rowan reached out and placed his fingertips on the inside of her wrist. His willstone glittered at the base of his throat as he gathered some of Lily’s excess energy. After a few heartbeats, Rowan released her, stood, and carried the unopened jam back to the cabinet.
“Why won’t you eat?” Lily asked incredulously.
“I don’t need to. I have you,” he said with a shrug.
“Don’t you want to eat something? I can give you energy, but that’s not the same as feeling food in your stomach, is it?”
Rowan joined Lily by the fire, sitting close to keep warm.
“This used to be an Outlander shelter for those who couldn’t quite make it to Salem,” he told her. “Traders, some of them coming from as far away as the mountains, would stop here as a last resort. Most people who come here are desperate, and some are near to dying. This little cabin and those preserves have saved a lot of lives.”
His expressive lips pressed together, like there was so much more he wanted to say, but was holding back.
“When did it save yours?” Lily guessed.
Rowan met her eyes with a touch of surprise, and then looked away. “When I was seven my father brought me to the Citadel to be tested,” he said. “We had to leave our people and make our way east alone to do it. Outlanders don’t usually risk it. Being chosen is a long shot, so they only bring their children to be tested at the Citadel if they happen to be near Salem during the child’s testing year.”
“Why did your dad risk it?” Lily asked. She couldn’t begin to imagine trying to get through these dangerous woods alone with a little boy.
“My dad was a doctor. Most Outlanders don’t have any book learning, but he did. He said he knew the signs, and he told me I had what it takes to make a good mechanic. Maybe even a great one.” Rowan breathed a mirthless laugh. “Mostly, I think he didn’t want me to die in the mines or fighting the Woven out on the Ocean of Grass.”
An image of the Great Plains popped into Lily’s head, and she nodded her understanding, encouraging Rowan to continue.
“At first, it was like we were charmed. We traveled for weeks without a single problem. It wasn’t until we were two days from here that we finally came across a Woven.” Rowan stopped and looked down at his interlaced hands, rubbing one thumb over the other. “She was an old thing, half blind, half deaf. But she still had enough venom to bite my dad before she died. I had to carry him here.”
Lily reached out and took one of Rowan’s hands, angling her head under his so he would look at her.
“Did he die here?” she asked.
Rowan looked at Lily, and a quizzical smile lit up his face unexpectedly. “No. My dad told me what to do. Even though we were in the middle of the woods and I didn’t have a willstone yet, my dad knew how to heal without magic.” Rowan’s voice dropped and his eyes looked inward. “He was really sick. And heavy. By the time we got to this cabin, it was like entering paradise. A roof. A fire. Jam.”
“Jam,” Lily repeated, swallowing the tight feeling in her chest.
“The best jam I’ve ever tasted.” Rowan cradled her hand in between both of his, running his fingertips over the blue veins that traced under her translucent skin and circling the swirls of her fingerprints. “So I’ll leave that jar of jam for someone else. Someone who really needs it.”
The first time Lily had seen Rowan glaring at her through the glass window of the café, she had been so overwhelmed by his anger she hadn’t noticed much else about him. Now she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t seen, right from the first, that he was absolutely beautiful. His thick hair, sensitive mouth, even his hands were shaped in a way that appealed to her.
Lily stared at him, amazed. “I can’t believe it.”
“What?” he asked, confused. “What can’t you believe?”
“I can’t believe you’re the same guy who peed on my head a few hours ago.”
“I didn’t pee on your head! I did it in the cauldron,” he said, laughing, which was exactly what Lily had intended. It hurt her to see Rowan that sad.
“Six of one, half a dozen of the other,” she said wryly, waving off his protestations. “All I know is that you cut off all of my hair and dyed it who-knows-what-color, and you used your pee to do it.”
“You’re never going to forgive me for that, are you?” he asked sagely.
“Nope.”
“Well, it was worth it.” He reached out and pushed a few stray curls away from her forehead. “I can see your face better with short hair. I do miss the red, though.”
Rowan’s eyes ticked over her face, her throat, her shoulders, as if he couldn’t stop following the flow of her shape. When his eyes finally circled back to hers, Lily could barely meet them. She didn’t have a joke ready to deflect the tension. All she could do was stare up at him, her mouth parted as if it were waiting for the smart comment that her brain failed to supply.
“We should get some rest,” he said, looking away.
Rowan left Lily by the fire for a few moments and returned with two curious-looking wooden frames. Leaving those by the fireplace with Lily, he went to a small chest in the corner, opened it with his willstone, and returned with two tarps and two blankets. He had Lily hold the blankets while he stretched the tarps across the frames, making two cots that resembled something that was halfway between hammock and lawn furniture.
“The blankets smell fresh,” Lily said, sniffing them. “Do you think someone’s been here recently to replace them?”
Rowan shook his head in answer while he worked. “Travelers use their willstones to seal up storage chests with a universally known charm. All the next traveler
has to do is touch their willstone, think open, and it does. But until then, no leaks and no bugs.”
“No wonder you don’t need plastic,” Lily said, regretting that there wasn’t something like this in her world.
“What’s plastic?”
“Never mind,” Lily replied, too tired to get into it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept. She took off her boots and lay down on the cot, her eyes already closing.
“Good night,” Rowan said, covering her with a blanket.
Lily mumbled something back and fell immediately asleep.
* * *
“Lily,” Rowan whispered, shaking her awake.
She opened her eyes and saw Rowan’s face over hers, his index finger pressed to his lips to indicate she should be quiet. He looked pale and scared. Lily sat up, her ears already filling with the high-pitched hiss of fear.
“Woven?” she mouthed, not daring to make a sound. Rowan nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.
“The nest,” he mouthed back silently, shaking his head like he wanted to kick himself. “Not empty.”
Outside and to the left of the cabin, Lily heard a faint chittering noise. Rowan’s head cocked in that direction, and he held up one finger. A rustling to the right made him crane his head in the other direction, and Rowan held up a second finger. A soft keening signaled a third Woven. Right outside the cabin door, they both heard scratching. Something pattered across the roof.
Rowan stopped counting at six, and the look on his face changed from fear to regret.
“I’m sorry, Lily,” he said out loud, as if being quiet was of no use anymore.
A chorus of screeching howls erupted outside at the sound of Rowan’s voice. Lily heard the shuffling and crunching of thousands of frozen leaves being plowed aside as the many-legged creatures scurried into position around the cabin. Their armored appendages began scraping at the shuttered windows and scrabbling up the sides of the stone walls.
“We have to do something,” Rowan shouted over the sudden cacophony. His face was pleading with hers. “Something that you’re not ready for. Something that probably won’t even work because you don’t have a willstone, but if we don’t try, we’re both going to die.”
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