Trial by Fire (17 page)

“Why not?” Lily asked.

“The Covens and the Council—”

“Are those like two different branches of government?” Lily interjected.

“It’s more complicated but, yeah, that works for now,” Rowan replied, a hint of admiration in his eyes. “Anyway, the Covens and Council decided that it was too dangerous to try to establish settlements outside the thirteen walled cities because they’d be impossible to defend. If the Outlanders were citizens, they’d be entitled to all the rights that citizens have—and one of those rights is to be defended by the Guard. So the Council denied them citizenship.”

“How brave of them,” Lily retorted.

“Right?” Rowan smiled at Lily briefly, his face lighting up, before he dropped his eyes and went back to coiling the rope around his forearm. “But no citizenship means Outlanders have no rights to own land. It all stems from the fact that Outlanders weren’t supposed to have survived the Woven Outbreak in the first place. But now that many generations have persisted, the laws keep it so Outlanders have no rights. That way they’re a source of cheap goods and labor for the Thirteen Cities.”

“Convenient,” Lily said.

“And easier for Lillian to control. Thirteen established cities—who all look to Salem—are much more manageable than scores of scattered Outlander outposts. Her word is law, and that law is easily enforced inside the walls.”

Lily knew that Rowan was very passionate about this topic, and she respected that he was resisting the urge to rant. He was trying to give her space and not shove his opinions down her throat. Lily didn’t know if she’d have the willpower to do the same.

“You keep calling the Outlanders ‘they.’ Aren’t you an Outlander?” she asked.

A complicated expression crossed Rowan’s face as he thought about Lily’s question. She found herself staring at him. As hard as his face was when he was angry, when his guard was down, it was incredibly expressive. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but she imagined that she could almost
feel
it.

“When I was seven, my father took me to the Citadel to be tested. When I was accepted, I was given citizenship. Then I was trained as a witch’s mechanic. As long as I’m a citizen, I don’t think I have the right to call myself an Outlander.”

Rowan tied off the tightly wound rope and put the bundle in his pack. “Okay. Swing your legs to the side, but don’t stand yet.” Lily did as he instructed. Her legs hung off the branch, unresponsive. She wiggled her toes and cringed as the pins and needles started.

“I may have tied you down a bit too tightly,” he said, a brow raised in apology. Rowan stood between her numb legs and started rubbing the blood back into them.

“Better than plummeting to my death,” she said, trying to ignore how good his hands felt. He certainly seemed to know how to massage thighs. Not that Lily had any firsthand experience with that sort of thing, but Rowan was definitely doing something right. Except that all the blood that was supposed to be going into her legs seemed to be rushing to her face. She felt like she needed to fill the silence somehow before she did something unforgivable, like sigh or, worse, moan.

“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you, Rowan Fall. I’m Lily Proctor. I was born in a hospital. When I was seven, I went to camp. Five minutes later, I went back home with a full body rash. It was fun.”

Rowan stopped massaging and looked up at her. “Your parents sent you to a work camp when you were seven?” he asked angrily.

“No, day camp,” Lily replied, smiling back. “It’s supposed to be, well, sort of like
this.”
She gestured to the woods around them. “Canoeing, hiking in the wilderness, climbing trees. Except we climbed down the trees and slept in beds at night. It’s recreational.”

“Ah. I see,” he said, still confused.

“What’s a work camp?” Lily asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

“It’s where the Covens send anyone who can’t find enough work on their own in one of the cites but don’t want to go Outland. They aren’t nice places.”

“But still better than being Outland with the Woven?”

Rowan shrugged in a noncommittal way and went back to rubbing her legs, his face clouded with troubled thoughts. His hands ran all the way up the inside of her thighs, and she jumped.

“Okay, I’m good. I can feel them again. Thanks.” She pushed his hands away and went to stand.

“Lily—” he began, moving to stop her. As soon as she tried to put her numb feet down on his branch her knees buckled.

Rowan grabbed a fist full of her jacket with one hand, and the branch next to them with the other as they both lost their balance and tipped back and forth, swaying dangerously. He regained his balance first and pulled her to him. When she finally got her feet under her, he caged her against the trunk.

“What’s the matter with you? You could have fallen!”

“I thought I could stand,” she countered. He looked down at her with narrowed eyes, their faces inches away from each other as he studied her.

“No you didn’t. You just wanted me to stop touching you,” he said knowingly. Lily’s eyes darted away. “All you have to do is say stop. And I will.”

Rowan moved back, but he didn’t take his hand off her jacket. Lily busied herself with wiggling the blood back into her toes. He watched her, even though she didn’t look up at him.

“You’re embarrassed,” he said disbelievingly.

“Are we going to spend all day in the tree?” she returned, hoping to end the conversation.

“I’m not trying to seduce you,” he said seriously. “Believe me. You’d know if I was.”

“I know you weren’t,” she responded, ignoring the boastful half of his comment. And the small sting she felt. Did he have to make it so insultingly clear that he wasn’t interested in her? “But where I’m from people don’t put their hands all over each other, okay? We don’t get naked in front of each other, we don’t share boy-girl tents, and we don’t go massaging each other’s groins.”

“Okay,” he said, raising one shoulder in a half shrug.

“Okay,” Lily said back, not sure if she’d made her point—or simply made a fool of herself. With Rowan it was difficult to tell whether you’d won an argument or not.

Rowan turned and started climbing down the tree. Lily thought for a moment that she heard him whisper the word “Puritan” as he picked his way down the branches. She was tempted to yell down at him, but she couldn’t really be sure that was what he’d said, and she didn’t want to seem touchy or defensive. The fact that she couldn’t even argue with him properly annoyed her.

“Are you coming or not?” he called up.

Lily turned toward a branch and began to climb down, muttering to herself the whole way.

Gideon waited for Juliet outside Lillian’s suite of rooms. Listening at the door was pointless. The Witch had set her wards. When Juliet did finally appear, her face had the pinched look of someone who’d just been in a huge fight.

“You’re back,” Gideon said smoothly.

Juliet shut the door behind her and started down the hallway. “As if you didn’t know that. How long have you been watching me?” she growled at him as she passed. Gideon followed her.

“I’m your sister’s head mechanic,” he said without a trace of remorse. “Anything that happens to you affects the Witch. Especially when you go running off into the Woven Woods to visit a camp full of your sister’s enemies.”

Juliet spun around to face him, her eyes flashing. “Are you accusing me of disloyalty?” she challenged.

Gideon had to admit Juliet could be quite pretty when she was angry. “No.” he said honestly. He knew that even though Juliet disagreed with every policy her sister had enacted over the past year, there was no one more loyal to Lillian than her sister. And if anyone knew whether or not Lillian had been able to do the impossible and make a bridge to a parallel universe, it would be Juliet. “But maybe you’d better tell me why you were out there before others—who don’t know you as I do—start to talk.”

“Let them talk,” Juliet said. She turned and started down the hallway again. “Lillian knows the truth.”

“She knows that there’s another witch out there in the woods—a witch who looks exactly like her?”

Juliet stopped and paused momentarily before turning to look at him. When she did, her face was a blank slate. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said lightly.

What a
terrible
liar she was. “Sweet Juliet,” Gideon said, with something approaching true affection, “you must have the purest heart in this universe.”

Gideon pivoted away from her distressed face and went to go find his father. They had plans to make. An infinite number of worlds had just opened up before Gideon, and he’d barely had a chance to imagine what those other worlds could offer. Or what he could take from them by force if they didn’t offer it.

But first, he had to find this other Lillian.

Lily finished washing up as best as she could by a small, muddy stream and joined Rowan back by the fire. Bubbling away in the flames was the small cauldron he’d used to make Lily her ankle-healing brew.

“What’s for breakfast?” she asked dubiously.

“Acorns. I have to boil them first, though. Too many tannins for you.”

“I didn’t know you could eat acorns,” Lily said, sitting cross-legged by his side.

“White oak acorns are the least bitter,” he said, stirring the pot with a small stick.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lily said with a little smirk. She had no idea what a white oak tree looked like, let alone one of their acorns. Rowan caught the look on her face and interpreted it correctly.

“Not a lot of woods in your world, I take it?” he asked.

“We’ve cut most of them down so we could build houses and stuff,” she said, wondering how Rowan could read her so easily. “I don’t know exactly where we are right now, but I’m pretty sure in my world it would be someone’s backyard. Some sleepy little neighborhood in Nowhere, Massachusetts.”

“Without the Woven, I’m assuming people spread out wherever they wanted?” he asked. Lily nodded. “Are there still large cities?”

“Huge ones. There are people everywhere in my world. Overcrowding is a big problem.”

“Amazing,” Rowan whispered to himself. “I’d love to see that.”

Lily stared at his profile. The gentle expression that crossed his face as he imagined her world—a world that was safe enough to fill up with people—softened his usually sharp eyes. “How old are you?” she asked, suddenly not sure.

“Nineteen. Why?”

“You seem so much, I don’t know. Older, I guess. You’re, like, an adult.”

“Well, yes,” he replied with a small laugh. “Legally, I’ve been an adult for three years now.”

“So you come of age here when you’re sixteen?” Lily asked.

“In the cities. When do you?”

“Well, technically, it’s eighteen. But in my country, there are still some things you can’t do until you’re twenty-one.”

Rowan made a face, as if he thought that was insane. “In the Outlands we come of age at fourteen. Most men have families by the time they’re sixteen.” He put the stick he was using to stir the acorn down and wrapped his hand in the sleeve of his jacket. “But Outlanders don’t have any time to waste. Most don’t live to see fifty.”

Disturbed by this, Lily frowned pensively as she watched Rowan pull the pot off the fire and drain away the red-brown water. At least, that explained why all the elders seemed on the young side. Outlanders didn’t live long enough to get old. Rowan fished out all the acorns and gave them to Lily.

“Did you already eat?” she asked him.

“I’m fine.”

“Rowan, seriously.” Lily tried to put half of the acorns into his hand, but he wouldn’t take them.

“I don’t have to eat. I’m taking all the energy I need from you.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, completely lost.

He placed two fingers on her wrist as he’d done many times in the days before, as if he were taking her pulse. Lily saw his willstone glow subtly under his clothes.

“Your body is an energy factory, Lily. You can take a handful of food—in the right chemical combinations, of course—and turn it into enough raw energy to sustain twenty people. Eventually I’ll have to eat for the protein and vitamins that my body needs to maintain itself, but I can live for days off of your excess energy.”

“That is so unbelievably weird,” she said, shaking her head. “So when you touch my wrist like that, you’re taking, like, sips of energy?”

“And regulating your reactions,” he said, laughing a little at Lily’s choice of words. “You haven’t learned how to safely process all the different agents in the air and in your food.”

Lily had been so overwhelmed since the raid she hadn’t noticed that she’d gone two days without getting a fever or a rash or even a stuffy nose. She hadn’t had a full day completely free of a reaction in years, and certainly not on a day spent outside.

“Can you teach me?” she asked, leaning closer to him.

“Of course,” he replied with a small smile.

He had such an expressive mouth. Now that she was looking at him up close, she could see that even when his eyes were guarded, his lips conveyed every new emotion that sped through him, as if they were more sensitive than most people’s. Lily couldn’t stop watching them.

“Eat,” he reminded her.

She pulled her gaze away and started in on her acorns, pleasantly surprised to find them quite satisfying, if a bit bland.

“Got any salt?” she asked jokingly. His face pinched with worry.

“You need it. Badly.” Rowan rubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin and his leg started bouncing up and down nervously.

“It’s okay. They’re really good just like this,” Lily said.

“It’s not about taste,” he replied with frustration. “Salt is an important mineral for a crucible.”

“Why?”

“It’s a special substance. It carries a charge,” he said slowly, like she was a child. “Do you know what electricity is?”

“Yes.” Lily tried not to sound offended or sarcastic. She knew Rowan couldn’t possibly understand that to her parts of his world looked like they still had one foot in the Stone Age. “And I know that salt is an electrolyte. We understand biology very well in my world.”