Trial by Fire

by Josephine Angelini

  A mechanic’s first responsibility is to detect the physical needs of his crucible and to alleviate any block or discomfort while she is enspelled, sometimes to the point of keeping her heart beating and her lungs breathing for her while she is transmuting matter and energy. Mechanics were built to be sensitive to physical needs. Even the name “mechanic” came from the fact that first and foremost they were to tend to the machinery of a witch’s body while every ounce of her being went into her willstone. And Gideon couldn’t even sense a top floor of the building, let alone feel a heartbeat up there. Rowan’s strength was terrifying. And infuriating.

  When Gideon was young, he used to look at windows at night. Just behind the glass were perfect lives that glowed inside a perfect frame. They always seemed happy with what they had. Gideon didn’t know if he envied those people or pitied them, but he couldn’t deny that they fascinated him. He realized that he was staring at a window again, wishing he were on the other side of the glass. It had been so long since he’d done that.

  “Are you sure she’s up there?” Carrick asked.

  “She’s there,” Gideon replied, failing to keep his tone in check. He never should have gone up there. Never should have shown his hand like that to Rowan. Carrick gave him a sideways glance, hearing Gideon’s petulance.

  “What are your orders?”

  “Set up a permanent guard,” Gideon snarled. “I want this building watched night and day.”

  “The Councilmen forbade this.”

  “The Councilmen are overcautious,” Gideon said coolly, finally able to rein in his emotions. Carrick nodded in deference, and Gideon continued. “Only hire guards who haven’t been claimed by Lillian. And no one with any ties to the Council or the Coven.”

  Carrick exhaled sharply. “You don’t leave me many options.” Carrick regarded Rowan’s dark windows for a moment. “I’ll need something in return.”

  Gideon gave him a calculating smile. “How much?”

  “Not money,” the Outlander replied. “At least, no more than it requires to find the special sort of help you need. No, if I’m going to run this right, I’ll need more than money. I need the authority to do it. A title.”

  Gideon nodded once. “Done. You are now a—what do you think will fit? Captain of the city guard?”

  It cost Gideon little to bestow that title. Carrick’s salary would be paid by the city of Salem, not him. He could have his father arrange the appointment easily.

  Carrick held out his hand, palm up, in the old way. Gideon laid his palm over Carrick’s and slid his hand up until the two men were grasping each other’s forearms firmly. Gideon briefly recalled that this was an ancient way of proving that you had no blades strapped to your arms and could therefore be trusted. He smiled. Sometimes the Outlander ways were so quaint.

  “Done,” Carrick replied.

  * * *

  Sunlight was streaming straight down through the skylight when Lily finally awoke. She sat up and looked around.

  She felt completely rested for the first time since she’d come to this world. In fact, she’d never felt this good in her life. The sun was warm on her skin. Lily sensed that she could take that energy, change it, and use it for another purpose. She lay in bed, piecing together why she’d always hated the dark. It was because all kinds of heat and light fueled her, and being separated from the light weakened her. Lily opened her hand and looked at her three willstones. Rowan had been right. She was changed forever.

  Lily sat up and saw a glass of water on the bedside table. A tiny card was propped up against it. It said, THIRSTY? in bold uppercase letters. Lily realized that she’d never seen Rowan’s handwriting before. She stared at it, sipping her water, memorizing every swoop and curve.

  She swung her legs out of bed and noticed that she’d somehow struggled out of his robe while she slept. Rowan had left a stack of clothes on the floor next to her, with its own accompanying card that read NAKED? Lily laughed quietly to herself and got dressed. The soft button-down shirt and pajama pants were way too big, but she figured it was better than the robe she’d drenched with sweat during the night.

  Lily turned her willstones over in her hand, a stunned smile on her face as she dressed slowly, soaking in every detail. The shape and smell of Rowan’s shirt filled her with so much tenderness that she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Lily realized with a start that she was changed in more ways than one.

  She went down the hall, marveling at how aware she was of everything. The feel of the clothes on her body, the texture and springiness of the wooden floor under her feet, everything from the taste of the air to the muffled sound of her steps was clearer to her now. Sharper. Even something as mundane as walking down a hallway became a revelation. She was starting to discern all the different forces at play when she put one foot in front of the other. She could feel the air pressure changing as she moved through it and knew that with a subtle variation in energy—one tiny adjustment inside her willstones—she could will the air around her to be as motionless and silent as a vacuum.

  She realized that this was how Rowan could move so quietly and sneak up on her. Thinking she’d give him a taste of his own medicine, Lily silenced her footsteps and moved toward the sound of voices coming from the dining area. She stopped at the same place she’d stood as she waited for Gideon to leave, wondering if Rowan would sense that she was there like he had the night before. She stifled a giggle, imagining jumping out and scaring him.

  Rowan and Tristan sat at the table where she and Rowan had eaten dinner the night before. They were drinking tea and speaking in lowered voices. Rowan was dressed in all white—white linen pajama pants and a white T-shirt. She’d gotten so used to seeing him in all black that she was startled for a moment. His hair was tousled, and he looked younger and more vulnerable. He was beautiful. Lily had no idea how he’d become so precious to her so quickly, but he had. She lingered behind the corner, enjoying the rare opportunity of watching the person she adored without him knowing she was there.

  “Whatever happened to keeping her out of your head?” Tristan asked, dismayed.

  “I didn’t have any other choice,” Rowan said with a tired shrug. “Believe me. I’m regretting it.”

  Lily leaned back into the wall, the giddiness she’d felt suddenly chilling and turning to dread inside of her.

  “What even gave you the idea?” Tristan asked.

  “I thought about how she’d healed her ankle. It was a long shot, but I figured she’d already transmuted energy inside herself using my stone, and it was only one step farther to then pour it back into me.”

  “That’s one hell of a step, though.” Tristan paused, then his voice dropped. “Do you think she could invade a stone? Take it over without permission?”

  “I don’t know. But that is the next step after this one,” Rowan said, allowing the thought to hang ominously in the air. He scrubbed his hands over his face a few times. “We’re in a lot of trouble.”

  “Only if she goes bad,” Tristan corrected.

  Rowan looked at Tristan, and a tense moment passed between them. “She can work inside another person’s willstone, she imprinted three of her own, and she’s just as convinced that she’s right about everything as Lillian ever was.”

  “So what are you saying?” Tristan asked in a low and serious tone. “That we can’t trust her?”

  Rowan’s face looked pained for a moment before it grew unyielding. “No. I don’t think we can.”

  Lily stopped breathing, too stunned to move.

  “But she’s still her own person, Ro, with a completely different background and upbringing. I don’t think we should paint her with Lillian’s brush just yet.” Rowan didn’t answer. “There are things about her that are different,” Tristan continued. “She’s funny. Did you notice that?”

  “Lillian was funny,” Rowan replied, a touch defensively.

  “No, she wasn’t,” Tristan said, rolling his eyes. “Rose-colored glasses, my frien
d.”

  Rowan changed the subject. “Gideon came poking around. Looking for a witch strong enough to catch my attention.”

  “One of the prisoners he took from the raid must have talked. Gideon’s been on the warpath looking for a new witch in Salem ever since.”

  A thought occurred to Rowan and he stiffened. “The Woven bodies at the cabin. I burned them, but it left one hell of an ash heap. If Gideon hears about them, he’ll know that a witch was involved. A powerful one.”

  “We can have Caleb send a team up to get rid of them. How many did you kill, anyway?”

  “Over forty. She’s strong, Tristan. Just as strong as Lillian ever was.”

  Tristan cursed under his breath. Then he looked up at Rowan and gave him a knowing smile. “How was the claiming?”

  Rowan looked down at his tea, frowning. “Too good. And too soon. I wish I could take it back.”

  They lapsed into silence. Lily wanted to crawl into bed and never get up again, but it would be Rowan’s bed, and she didn’t want to sleep there ever again. She decided it was no use trying to run away or hide. She took a step, making sure it was audible. Rowan’s head snapped around in surprise.

  “I didn’t hear you come down the hallway,” he said.

  She shrugged at him coldly and his eyes widened. Lily hoped it was with hurt. She wanted to punish him. After everything they’d been through together, Rowan still believed she was evil. He’d been inside her head, shared some of her most intimate and painful memories, and yet he still thought she was going to become a tyrannical murderer like Lillian. She turned away from him, and toward Tristan.

  “It’s really good to see you,” she said. She smiled warmly at him.

  “And you. I like your haircut,” Tristan said, smiling back. A blush reddened his cheeks. His eyes darted over to Rowan and his smile faded. “I have clothes for you.” He picked up a bundle from beside his chair. “And a message from Juliet.”

  “Juliet?” Lily said excitedly. She crossed to Tristan. “Is she okay? What happened when she got back to the Citadel? Was she upset with me because I didn’t try to mindspeak with her again?”

  “Whoa!” Tristan said, holding up a hand. He passed the bundle to Lily, laughing under his breath. “I have no idea about any of those things. The letter’s sealed.”

  Lily had to take the bundle awkwardly with one hand. “I need to put these in a necklace,” she said, unclenching her fingers slightly around her willstones.

  “May I see?” Tristan asked, leaning forward expectantly.

  Lily suddenly felt shy. It was almost like he’d asked to see a mole or a tattoo she had on a sensitive part of her body. She reminded herself that everyone here wore their willstones around their necks and she shouldn’t be so touchy about it. She opened her fingers and Tristan inhaled sharply.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, his face entranced. His compliment pleased her enormously, although she wasn’t quite sure why.

  “Thank you,” Lily said, grinning. “I’m quite attached to them.”

  Tristan laughed at her little joke, his breath brushing against her willstones. It sent a pleasant shiver up her back.

  “One of each color. What do you think that means?” Tristan asked, and looked up at Rowan, who was watching the two of them with a guarded look.

  “Do the different colored stones mean different things?” Lily asked.

  “No,” Rowan answered. “No one knows why most stones are smoke, some rose, and a very few are golden.”

  “That’s not entirely true, Ro,” Tristan countered. He looked at Lily. “Some people say the color of the stone can tell you about the personality of the wearer.”

  “So what does it mean that I have three stones? That I have multiple personalities?”

  Rowan shrugged. “I’ve heard of powerful witches in the past imprinting more than one stone at a time because there wasn’t an available stone large enough to harness her power, but your smoke stone is just about the biggest willstone I’ve ever seen. I think we’re in uncharted territory here, and we need to wait and see.” He stood and went to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

  Rowan cooked for them while Lily changed into the new clothes Tristan had brought her, then took a moment to read Juliet’s letter. It didn’t say much, other than that Juliet was fine and that she hoped Lily stayed safe. Juliet placed extra importance on Lily staying far away from Gideon. She said he was lurking around, asking questions. Juliet begged her to stay out of sight for her own safety.

  As Lily read the signature, “Ever Your Loving Sister, Juliet,” it occurred to her that she had been missing from her world for six days. Her Juliet must have been frantic.

  “Lily,” Tristan asked when she joined them back in the kitchen, “was there bad news in the letter?”

  “Not really,” she said, smiling briskly. “I just miss my sister. Both versions of her.”

  For a moment, as Lily stared at her sister’s name at the bottom of the letter, she felt as if she would cry. Tristan tactfully changed the subject. He started asking Lily questions about her trek through the woods, and they fell easily into conversation. It felt so normal to be sitting and chatting with him that she could almost ignore the fact that she was in a different world where she didn’t belong, until she glanced over at Rowan and noticed him scowling at her. How had she overlooked his open animosity toward her when they were alone in the woods together?

  “So, when can I start training?” Lily asked when breakfast was finished. Rowan and Tristan exchanged a look.

  I know you two are sharing mindspeak, Rowan. Do me a favor and just say it out loud, okay? I’m not an idiot. Lily didn’t even try to hide her annoyance. She wanted him to feel how upset she was, although she was careful to keep the root of that annoyance—how much he’d hurt her—to herself.

  Rowan met her eyes, his mouth pursed in anger. “Tonight. If that’s alright with you,” he said with mock deference.

  “The sooner the better,” she replied, holding Rowan’s angry gaze. So I can get the hell out of here and away from you.

  Rowan looked away first, but Lily still didn’t feel like she’d won.

  CHAPTER

  9

  Lily spent the rest of the day at the kitchen table with Tristan, trying to make a necklace out of her willstones, while Rowan was out arranging a meeting with Caleb. During that time, Tristan gave her a crash course in willstones, their properties, and some of the complicated social conventions that had been established to accommodate them.

  Even after just one day, Lily had already noticed some of the obvious benefits to having a willstone. She now had a photographic memory. Everything she learned from the moment she bonded with her willstones—every image that passed before her eyes—was recorded and dated and filed away neatly for her to reexamine at any time. All Lily had to do in order to recall an entire conversation, word for word, was think about it. She could read a page in a book and recall it without omitting one letter, although her willstone couldn’t make her understand what she read any better. She’d already tested her comprehension by pulling Meditations on First Philosophy by René Descartes off Rowan’s bookshelf and found it really hard to follow. For now, anyway. She was sure her reading comprehension would expand to keep pace with the library she intended to stuff into her head.

  Tristan added to what she’d already discovered by teaching her how to open doors with her willstone by having it communicate with tiny shards of lattice—a willstone-like crystal, but much less complex—that were embedded in the doorframes. Lily thought it was Star Trek cool to open doors with her mind. For a good ten minutes, she walked through Rowan’s apartment, watching the doors swish open and closed like, well, magic.

  Once Tristan managed to get her to stop walking through doorways, he taught Lily how to seal up lattice-lined boxes so no one else could open them unless she willed it. There were so many different ways even a non-magical person could use their willstone that Lily thought it was like having a m
icrocomputer with a ton of handy apps attached to her brain. Lily had always wondered why everyone in this world would choose to bond with a willstone if it made you vulnerable to a crucible or a witch’s claiming, but now she understood. Even for the non-magical, willstones were as useful as a laptop, cell phone, keys, ID, and a strongbox combined. The way this world was set up, you simply couldn’t get along without one.

  But having a willstone was a vulnerability—especially for the magically inclined. Tristan stressed several times that while non-magical people couldn’t really hurt each other by touching stones, Lily was different. She had to be careful. When she touched someone’s stone, she could potentially claim that person if he or she allowed it. Even if the person didn’t permit a claiming, Lily, as a witch, could still make that person feel things, both good and bad. A witch could make a person feel just about any sensation—whether taste, sight, sound, or touch—much more intensely just by touching that person’s stone. And the stronger the witch, the stronger she could make that sensation. But intensified sensation went both ways.

  “You must never, ever let anyone touch your stones. Not unless you really trust him or her,” Tristan said. Again. “And only if it’s with one of your claimed.”

  Lily kicked him under the table. “I heard you the first thousand times.”

  “I’m serious, Lily,” he continued, even though he was grinning as though he’d never been serious in his entire life.

  “Sure you are,” Lily drawled, grinning back.

  She suddenly wasn’t sure if she was flirting with Tristan or not. It just was so easy to be around him. She wasn’t walking on eggshells or constantly second-guessing every look or turn of phrase, as she did when she was with Rowan. She also wasn’t hyperaware of Tristan as she was of Rowan. It was like Rowan’s skin was always whispering to hers. Like there was another, more meaningful space inside the space between them. Everything felt bigger, brighter, and keener around him. Unfortunately, that included her insecurities as well. Lily’s smile disappeared. So did Tristan’s.