Trial by Fire

by Josephine Angelini

  “Towel. Robe,” he said, pointing to the items hanging from hooks on the back of the door as he named them, and then he left her alone.

  Still shaken by Rowan’s closeness and abrupt departure, Lily peeled off her clothes and lowered herself gingerly into the scented water. As she soaked away her aches and pains, she tried not to think too much about how she’d gotten them. She failed. The gruesome battle with the Woven and the memory of the fear-drenched hike through the forest made her restless even as she tried to relax. But it was the face of that old history teacher as he was being beaten to death that finally drove her from the incongruous comfort of the tub. She knew that experience would be with her for the rest of her life, and she hoped someday she would be able to make peace with it.

  Lily dried herself off, wiped steam from the mirror, and took her first look at the new haircut. She didn’t recognize herself. Wet, her hair looked black, and her eyes glowed bright green in contrast. Lily rumpled her curls with her hand, squeezing out the water. The back was clipped so short it felt nearly shaved at the nape. It didn’t look bad, she admitted, just drastically different from what she was used to.

  Still missing her long hair, Lily sighed and wrapped Rowan’s robe around her. It was way too big on her, and the collar slouched down off her shoulders, but it was clean and comfortable. She left the bathroom and wandered down the hall toward the delicious smell coming from the kitchen.

  Rowan was serving the finished meal onto plates when she joined him. He looked up at her and paused for a moment, his eyes resting on her bare neck. He turned and put the last pan in the sink and ran water over it. “Perfect timing,” he said over his shoulder.

  Lily waited for him to sit, rolling up the sleeves of his robe until she could actually find her fingers, and then they both descended on their food like vultures. He’d made her a lentil and pasta dish, steamed artichokes, and a baked red pepper stuffed with something like herbed polenta that she’d never encountered before. It was so delicious she made delighted noises while she ate, earning several satisfied grins from Rowan. When they were finished, they both leaned back in their chairs, too tired to do much more than stare at each other hazily.

  “Thank you, Rowan. That was wonderful,” Lily said. He nodded in acknowledgment. “You cooked; I’ll clean.” She stood and started grabbing plates.

  “Leave them,” he said, standing.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Tomorrow.” He came around the table and put his hands on Lily’s wrists, guiding the plates back down to the table. His gaze was warm and his voice low. “I appreciate it, I really do. But it’s bedtime.”

  Her eyes were level with Rowan’s willstone, resting high on his breastbone under his clothes. She thought about touching it and about the sharp, almost painful awareness of him that had followed. The memory made her shake. Her eyes flicked up to his and she froze. His fingers fanned out across the insides of her wrists, smoothing over the soft, sensitive skin there before he suddenly pulled away from her.

  “You need sleep,” he said in a wavering voice.

  He led her down the hallway, past the bathroom she had used, and into a large bedroom with a vaulted ceiling that was crowned with a faceted skylight. Stairs led up to a dais, where a wide bed dominated the otherwise uncluttered, almost empty room. Rowan led her up the steps, turned down the snowy-white comforter, and folded her between the crisp sheets.

  “Sleep,” he repeated, tucking her in, and then he turned and left the room.

  The lights dimmed and went out as Rowan walked past them. Seeing his large silhouette pausing in the doorway for a last-second check on her filled Lily with a sense of well-being. Sleep seized her like a fever, wrestling her under within seconds.

  * * *

  Gideon let himself into Rowan’s building and climbed the six flights of stairs. Rowan hadn’t changed the outside wards, but Gideon was certain he’d changed the ones on his apartment. He’d had Carrick check them.

  Gideon knew he wasn’t supposed to do this. It had only been a few hours since the meeting with the Council members, and he still hadn’t managed to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth. They were so frightened of Rowan. So scared of any miscalculation around the Witch that they would let the discovery of the century slip through their fingers.

  The Council simply didn’t have enough imagination to understand how important this other version of Lillian could be. She could change the balance of power in this world if Gideon could prove she existed.

  Gideon knocked at Rowan’s door and waited, ignoring the impulse to call to him with mindspeak. Not that it would work anyway. He and Rowan were no longer stone kin. Rowan had smashed his stone when he’d left Lillian and had been using a new stone for the past year, one that Gideon wasn’t in tune with. Gideon touched the willstone at his throat, his skin crawling at the thought. He’d seen another mechanic suffering after his stone had been smashed, and Gideon could only imagine that it was like cutting off an arm or putting out an eye. After the guy had recovered, he’d bonded with another willstone, but it took weeks before he could do more than moan. Gideon had always known Rowan was strong, but to smash his own stone? That was something Gideon would never even consider.

  He knocked again. He knew Rowan was home. He also knew that there was a girl with him. In all the years he’d known Rowan—and even during this past year when he hadn’t had any contact with him at all—Rowan had never taken any girl but Lillian home with him. True, Gideon’s spies had reported that Rowan was with a dark-haired Outland girl, but hair was easy enough to dye. Gideon knew she had to be this other Lillian that he needed. He felt it. And the Council would thank him for this later, even if he was going against their wishes.

  The door opened. Rowan appeared to have just taken a bath. He wore only a pair of loose, drawstring linen pants, his hair wet, and there was a patch of stubble and shaving milk on his neck, still waiting for the razor. Gideon smiled, repressing the urge to hit the handsome bastard. He just kept getting better looking every damn year.

  “Hi, Rowan,” he said smoothly. “Bit late for a shave, isn’t it?”

  “Gideon,” Rowan replied, his expression stony. “What are you doing here?”

  “May I come in?”

  “What are you doing here?” Rowan repeated. He angled his shoulders to block the door.

  “I’m trying to help you.” Gideon sighed heavily. “There’s a rumor going around.”

  “A rumor,” Rowan prompted blankly.

  “Something that might get back to Lillian, make her ask questions.” Gideon searched Rowan’s eyes for a flicker of fear, or the uncertainty of a lie, but he saw nothing. It was strange to look at Rowan and have no way into his mind. He hadn’t anticipated that, although he knew he should have. They’d never liked each other—in fact, Gideon knew that Rowan despised him—but being stone kin for so many years had forced them to be closer than brothers.

  Up until a year ago, Lillian had not claimed either Gideon or Tristan, and they had been forced to work through Rowan’s mind for years in order to remain in her inner circle. Gideon had never become stone kin with Tristan, but in order to even pretend he was a true mechanic, which many people doubted, Gideon and Rowan had, and they’d spent hours in each other’s heads. Now all Gideon heard from Rowan was implacable silence. Gideon had never once considered that he wouldn’t be able to read Rowan, and at the moment, all Gideon saw was a very large, very lithe Outlander with a razor in his hand. They were strangers now, and Gideon suddenly doubted the wisdom of coming here at all. “A lot of people saw you around town tonight with a girl.”

  “That was fast. You must have hired more spies.” Rowan put his hands on his hips. They were hard hands—hands that were used to hitting things—unlike Gideon’s. “Get to the point, Gideon.”

  “Is she here?” Gideon looked over Rowan’s shoulder and saw two sets of dirty dishes on the table. “Apparently, she is. I’m surprised. It’s not like you to leave a mess.”

>   “We had better things to do than dishes.”

  Gideon raised an eyebrow at Rowan. If she wasn’t the other Lillian, Rowan wouldn’t work so hard to protect her from view. The fact that Rowan was fighting Gideon was a good sign. “May I meet her?” he asked casually.

  * * *

  Lily woke in Rowan’s big bed. There was a palpable tension in the air. She got up and wandered toward the sound of voices. She couldn’t make out distinct words just yet, but even so, Rowan’s tone didn’t sound right to her. She still wasn’t sure exactly how to initiate mindspeak, but she reached out to him anxiously, and he sensed it.

  Don’t come out here, Lily. I don’t want Gideon to see you.

  Lily peeked around the corner and saw Rowan standing at the door, talking to a young man with blond hair and a doughy, pallid face. Gideon. He had just asked Rowan if he could meet her.

  “She’s sleeping, Gideon,” Rowan replied. His voice slid down to an insinuating drawl. “And she’s very tired.”

  “Really?” Gideon said doubtfully. “You know, I was convinced you’d never give yourself to another witch. She must be quite powerful to claim you.”

  “Hey, back up,” Rowan said, laughing. “We just met. Nobody said anything about claiming anyone. I’m just having some fun.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Gideon said, shaking his head. “There isn’t a witch in the Thirteen Cities who hasn’t tried to claim you, and you’ve turned them all down. You’d never settle for less than Lillian. So whomever you’ve got in your bed is someone special. Someone powerful.” His voice dropped conspiratorially. “Who is she?”

  “I hate to break it to you, but she’s not a witch. She’s just some Outland girl I met.” Rowan shrugged. “It’s been a long time, okay? Would you go more than a year without a woman?”

  Gideon smirked at Rowan. “Don’t try to compare us. You’re nothing like me, Rowan. You never have been,” Gideon said, and realizing he’d get nothing out of Rowan, he turned and left.

  Stay there, Lily. I have to strengthen the wards.

  Rowan closed the door. His willstone sent a pulse of rippling magelight across the room. Every crevice in his apartment was touched by the undulating wave of oily light, and then it faded.

  Following the strange string that connected her to him, Lily could sense a trace of Rowan’s awareness lingering on everything that his magelight had touched. She took a moment to consider what he had done and understood that the windows and the walls were as sealed as the storage chest in the cabin had been, just on a much larger scale. Nothing they said or did could be seen or heard by anyone outside Rowan’s ward of protection, and if anyone tried to disturb the barrier, he would know it as certainly as he would know if someone placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s okay. You can come out now,” he said out loud. Lily stepped away from the wall and stood facing Rowan. He was biting his lower lip, thinking, while he considered her with worried eyes.

  “He was the kid I saw in your memory,” she said. “One of Lillian’s mechanics, along with you and Tristan.”

  “Yeah,” he replied, his eyes far away. “He’s her head mechanic now. He was the only one willing to do her dirty work when she came back so changed.”

  “He beat that old man to death,” Lily said, shrugging his robe up over her shoulders.

  “He’s done worse to others,” Rowan said quietly. “I’ve been inside his mind. Gideon doesn’t feel things the way normal people do.” Rowan shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. “And now he’s after you.”

  “Do you think he knows who I am?” Lily asked.

  “He might. I don’t know,” Rowan replied.

  “So why is he after me? Why does he care?”

  “Why does he care?” Rowan repeated, frustrated. “You have no idea what you mean, do you?” His eyes searched hers.

  Lily shrugged. She supposed her importance must have something to do with her being a copy of the Salem Witch. But Lily had no idea how to do anything even remotely witchy, at least not without Rowan telling her how to do it, so she didn’t really see how that could benefit anyone except maybe Rowan. In Lily’s estimation, she was just an odd glitch in the cosmological equation. She wasn’t important. She was weird.

  “Gideon’s coming for you, Lily,” Rowan continued in a hushed voice. “He’s not going to stop just because I wouldn’t let him into my apartment.”

  Rowan was scared of Gideon—as scared of him as he was of the Woven.

  “Can you hide me from him?” she asked.

  “Not forever. You need to be able to hide yourself. To defend yourself.” Rowan’s shoulders slumped and he seemed to give up. He suddenly moved to the kitchen. “I didn’t want to do this. But I can’t leave you helpless.”

  Lily followed him. He took a velvet jeweler’s envelope out of his backpack, untied the strings and unfolded it, revealing a few dozen ovoid stones of varying sizes. They were such a dull gray color that at first Lily didn’t recognize them for what they were.

  “Willstones,” she said, frowning. “But they look … I don’t know. Dead.”

  “Because they’re unkeyed. There’s no mind inside them yet. Do you still want one?” Lily nodded, and Rowan regarded her seriously. “There’s no going back after this. It will change you forever.”

  Lily was imagining herself back home, trying to explain her glowy necklace to Tristan, when she realized she hadn’t thought about her own Tristan in days. Their failed attempt at a relationship seemed so far away after what she’d been through. She met Rowan’s eyes. “I’m already changed forever,” she said.

  Rowan looked away, his mouth a grim line. “Okay.”

  He took a butter knife out of a drawer, picked up the velvet envelope, and led Lily down the hall to his bedroom. Straightening the mussed comforter, he directed Lily to climb onto the bed and get comfortable. Rowan sat opposite her and used the butter knife to separate the willstones on the velvet between them.

  “Hold your hand about a foot over them, palm down,” he directed. “Pass your hand over them slowly, one at a time. The stronger your talents are, the more this ritual affects you. This is going to be very hard, but whatever you do, don’t pull your hand away.”

  Lily did as he said, and immediately felt a thrumming in her hand. “I feel something.”

  “Stay relaxed. Let it happen,” Rowan replied. He leaned forward, watching her intently. “I’m right here, Lily. You’re safe.”

  Lily looked up at him, his reassurance worrying her, and she wondered how strong the sensation was going to get. The stones began to shiver on the velvet, and the thrumming in Lily’s hand became heat. She moved her hand over the array of stones slowly as Rowan had instructed. The heat grew to a burning itch under her skin. It spread up her arm, crawling under her skin like a disease.

  “Is it almost over?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “I know it’s hard. I’m right here.” Rowan’s voice was low and soothing. She felt the string between them tighten, as if he were pulling her closer to him without moving. “Breathe slowly, Lily. In and out.”

  Lily realized she was panting. Sweat broke out on her upper lip. She tried to slow her breath and relax as Rowan had instructed her, but the sensation was alarming. It was worse than pain. It felt as if she were being invaded. “I think something’s wrong, Rowan,” she gasped. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be like this.”

  “You’re growing another limb made out of crystal. The rest of your body will try to stop it like it’s an infection, but it isn’t. Fight the instinct to pull your hand away.”

  The itch was intolerable. Her stomach churned with sick acid. Her heart pattered randomly like rain on a roof. “I’m scared.”

  “I’m here. Be brave, Lily. You can do this.”

  Her whole body felt like it was burning. Sweat trickled between her breasts, soaked her hair, and dripped off the end of her nose. The itch clawed at her until she wanted to dig her skin off. Lily forced hersel
f to keep her hand over the willstones even though it felt like holding her hand over an open flame—like her flesh was crisping and melting off her bones.

  “It hurts,” she whimpered.

  “I know, Lily. I know it hurts,” Rowan said, his voice rough.

  Three stones lit up and began to glow. A large one maintained a steady brightness, but two smaller ones twinkled and flared as if they were trying to muscle their way in and outshine the big one.

  “You’re nearly there. Keep going.”

  In desperation, a part of her reached out and grabbed on to the string connecting her to Rowan. She clung to it while the rest of her thrashed about in a sea of fire. Lily screamed in pain.

  At the sound of her scream, all three of the glowing stones jumped off the velvet and smacked into the palm of her hand. Lily wrapped her fingers around them and crumpled onto her side.

  The three stones pulsed in her hand, taking their first, tired breaths. Lily pulled her knotted fist up to her face and opened it carefully. Cradled in her palm were three new hearts she would wear outside her skin for the rest of her life. The littlest one had a shy golden glow to it. The medium-size one looked a bit pinkish and even though it was still exhausted from its birth, it somehow managed to flash at Lily like a cheeky little flirt. But it was the largest stone that commanded Lily’s focus. It wriggled with platinum filaments of light that rose and sank in the smoky depths of the stone as if it were an endless well of light and dark. The large stone was strong and confident, and Lily knew it could outshine the sun if she asked it to.

  “Three stones,” Rowan whispered. His face grew fearful. “Unbelievable.”

  And then she passed out.

  * * *

  Gideon looked up at the window on the top floor. Rowan’s wards were so strong that even though Gideon stretched his meager talent as a mechanic to its limits, he couldn’t even sense that there were people up there.