Beyond the borders of the camp, Juliet saw branches moving violently and heard the synchronized shouts of the perimeter guards as they repelled a Woven attack. Even if they tried to get some of the women and children out before the battle, trying to run through the woods at night would be suicide. The Outlanders had to stand and fight—all of them—or they’d die.
“Lady Juliet,” a deep voice called. Juliet snapped herself out of her morbid thoughts and peered into the half dark. She saw a man, flanked by warriors, coming toward her. He wasn’t exceptionally tall or large, but there was something about the set of his shoulders that marked him as the leader. As he got close, she noticed that he had a limp.
“Alaric,” Juliet said, and then corrected herself. “Sachem,” she said, tilting her head down in a respectful nod. Her knees were shaking. Juliet had spent most of her teen years terrified of Alaric Windrider and his tribe of painted savages.
“I heard what you did for my people in the courtroom,” he said. “I thank you and welcome you to my camp.”
Juliet hadn’t expected him to be so polite. She looked up at him, wondering how old he was. His hair was salted with gray at the temples, but up close he didn’t look much older than thirty. He was handsome. None of the stories about him had mentioned that, although they seemed to mention everything else, including what had happened to him to make him the most feared leader of the Outlander tribes.
The story, legend now, said that ten years ago his wife and infant girl died during a brutal snowstorm. The young family had been right outside the Salem gate, but because they were Outlanders, the guards wouldn’t let them in after dark. With the Woven in the woods behind them, and implacable guards on the wall above, he had to watch as his wife and child froze to death in his arms. The story went that he got his limp that night trying to kick down the Salem gate in a blind rage.
Juliet didn’t know if any of this were true, but she did know that after that night, Alaric went wild. He built an army to topple the Thirteen Cities, and five years ago when Lillian had grown strong enough to replace Olga, the old, dying Salem Witch, he vowed to destroy Lillian’s Coven himself. He killed guards, raided the underground train lines that linked the cities, and started demanding that Outlanders had the right to own property and govern themselves. Many felt as he did, and thousands of warriors from dozens of different tribes pledged themselves to him. When Lillian outlawed science, he’d grown even more powerful, as citizens and Outlanders alike flocked to him for protection.
Alaric hadn’t been born a sachem. He became one by strength of will alone. And all to avenge his lost wife and child. Juliet had often wondered what drove a man like that—what fueled so much fire. She used to think it had to be hatred, but she wasn’t so sure anymore. The look on his face as he stared down at her was almost gentle.
Juliet shook herself, realizing that she and Alaric had been standing there staring at each other for ages. Even the disciplined warriors in his personal entourage were starting to look uncomfortable. Juliet blushed and quickly dropped her eyes.
“I-I just did the only right thing left for me to do,” she stammered, mortified. “Not that it did any good. This isn’t over, Sachem. Lillian will go to the pyre for this.”
“How do you know? Can you hear her thoughts?” Alaric asked. His eyes narrowed. “Can she hear yours?”
“No. Lillian shut me out a year ago,” Juliet replied, shaking her head emphatically. “There’s something in her mind she doesn’t want me to see, and she’s willing to never share thoughts with me again to keep it from me.” Juliet smiled at Alaric ruefully. “And I know when she’s trying to spy on me by sneaking into my thoughts, so don’t be afraid of her stealing any of your plans through me. Remember, she was my nosy little sister long before she was the Salem Witch. Which is why I know she’ll attack.”
“I don’t doubt you,” he said, almost like he was surprised he was saying it. Alaric suddenly lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck in agitation. “But you can still hear Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We have to get her and the scientists to safety.”
* * *
Lily and Rowan hurried through the camp, feeling their way toward Caleb and Tristan. Cheers followed them wherever they went. Lily felt the success of their mission buoying the Outlanders as they prepared for battle. A few Outlanders even came up to Rowan to shake his hand.
“Now that they’ve got to come out from behind the walls, we can win this!” one man shouted enthusiastically as he thumped Rowan on the back. The crowd took up a rallying cry, all of them eager to fight.
Lily glanced over at Rowan as he broke off and led her away. His smile faded fast and a grim look descended on his face.
What is it, Rowan?
They’re deluding themselves. We can’t win, Lily.
Why not?
Lillian will be fueling everyone who takes the field for her. None of these people have ever faced a witch’s army, or even seen what someone can do with a witch’s strength inside of him. It’ll be a slaughter.
“No, it won’t be,” Lily said, disliking Rowan’s defeatism. “If Lillian is going to fuel her army, I’ll fuel everyone who fights for the sachem.”
Rowan stopped dead and grabbed Lily by the shoulders, his face flushing with anger. “No, you won’t! You are not ready for the pyre. You’ll die.”
“The pyre?” Lily asked uncertainly. Rowan let go of her and stepped back.
“Firewalking,” he said. “You don’t stand in front of the flames, you go into them.” His voice dropped. “In order to get enough energy to fuel an army, we have to burn you, Lily.”
She stared at Rowan, her thoughts turning over rapidly. “Lillian can do it? She can firewalk and live?”
“She started with little things, like holding her hand over a flame for five minutes.” Rowan paced in a circle, dragging his fingers through his hair. “And at first, she hurt herself. A lot. I had to heal her over and over again. It took years for her to be ready for the pyre.”
“But she was young, right? She hadn’t come into her power yet, had she?”
Rowan stopped pacing and looked at Lily, his eyes sad. “Just once in your life, please listen to me. You’re not ready to firewalk, Lily.”
Lily looked around at the camp. Men and women were focused and united as they prepared themselves for war. They had their scientists back and the promise of an independent future if only they fought for it. She could feel their optimism, their hope for a better life for their children, and she knew Rowan was right. They had no idea what they would be facing. Lillian’s bewitched army would mow them down.
“If I don’t go to the pyre, are you still going to fight?” she asked.
He looked away.
Answer me. Are you going to fight, even without my strength?
Yes.
Even if that means you’ll die?
Yes.
“Then what difference does it make if I die on the pyre or not?” she said, taking his hand. He looked baffled for a moment, and then his face changed suddenly to pleading.
“Don’t do this for me,” he said.
“I know. And it’s okay, Rowan,” she replied. She thought about Lillian, and how she was so willing to hurl herself across the universe and into the unknown for this man. She smiled at him. “I get it now.”
“There you are!” Juliet called out, relieved. She ran over to Lily and grabbed her arm, pulling her away from Rowan before he could protest any further. “We have to get you out of here. Lillian’s having a pyre built on the wall. The sachem told me he wants you and the scientists to hide in the woods.”
Lily paused. She looked over Juliet’s shoulder at all the people who would die tonight without her.
“Where is the sachem?” Lily asked. “I want to see him.”
“I’ll take you.”
Juliet led Lily and Rowan a short way through the camp. When they joined up with the sachem, they found all three of the scie
ntists were with him, along with Caleb and Tristan. Lily also recognized a few of the faces from outside the sachem’s council carriage. She nodded at the elders in greeting.
“Lily. We all want to thank you and your mechanics for returning our scientists,” one of the elders said. When she came forward through the crowd, Lily saw that it was Dana.
“Just a simple tanner, huh?” Lily replied, shaking her head.
“I was once,” Dana said through a grin.
“I’m just glad we all made it out,” Lily said. She grimaced suddenly at the irony of the situation. “For what it’s worth.”
Dana nodded, her eyes glinting with understanding. “It was worth a lot. Outlanders are used to dying, but if we die tonight, at least this time it will be for something we believe in.”
Lily frowned in thought. “I’ve always been big on fighting for what I believe in.” She laughed at herself. “Which, in my world, means I wore a lot of T-shirts and donated my allowance to groups I wished I could join. I was always too sick and too weak to actually fight.” She looked over at Rowan. “Until now.”
“Lily,” he whispered, his face pleading with hers. “Don’t.”
“I have to, Rowan.” She reached out and took his hand again. “You know I do.”
“What’s going on?” Tristan asked.
“Lily wants to go to the pyre,” Rowan said, never taking his eyes off hers.
“That’s insane,” Tristan said with a laugh. A silence followed his outburst. “This is ridiculous,” he continued, his tone serious now. “Ro, she can’t handle it yet. You know she can’t.”
“It’s not my decision,” Rowan replied. “It’s hers.”
“Lily,” Juliet said calmly. “You’re no good to the rebels dead.”
Lily nodded, dropping her head. “If I don’t do this, there’ll be no rebels left to help, Juliet,” she said. She looked up at Rowan. “I’ll need to claim everyone who’s willing. We’d better start now.”
You’re not going to listen to me, are you, Lily?
Please, Rowan. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to do this.
Brave and stubborn and determined to break my heart.
“Yeah, we’d better,” Rowan said blankly, pulling his hand out of Lily’s. He looked around at the sachem and all the elders. “Have everyone who wants to live through the night come before Lily to be claimed.”
The sachem nodded and called over his shoulder to his painted warriors. “Do it,” he ordered, and half of them raced off into the dark.
Rowan turned to Tristan and Caleb. “Come on. We have to build Lily’s pyre.” He brushed past Lily, heading toward the back of camp. Tristan followed him, barely looking at Lily as he passed.
“I hope you’re a fast learner, little witch,” Caleb said, looking down at her with a worried frown. He put one of his huge hands on her shoulder and squeezed.
“Me, too,” she replied, smiling up at him weakly. “Caleb? Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”
“Yes, I do. I just don’t want you to die.”
“Me neither.”
Caleb gave her a fierce hug. He released her quickly and left her with the sachem. She stood next to him solemnly, trying not to shake too much.
“Will you take care of my sister if I don’t make it?” Lily asked the sachem.
“Lily,” Juliet began, but the sachem cut her off with a gently raised hand before she could continue.
“I swear to you I will,” he said.
“Thank you, Alaric.”
* * *
Outlander braves began to gather in front of Lily, waiting to be claimed. They were anxious. Their eyes darted over to the sachem, as if to ask if it were okay with him that they were giving themselves to a witch. Alaric had to wave people forward, encouraging them to step up, although Lily noticed that he didn’t offer himself to her. She didn’t ask, either. Lily assumed there was a reason he’d never had his knee healed by Rowan or Tristan, or any of the other competent mechanics that were sworn to him, and she assumed it was because he didn’t trust witchcraft, even if he could see its usefulness.
Alaric wasn’t alone in that sentiment. Most of the Outlanders had spent their lives hating and fearing the Covens, and more than a few had lost loved ones in Lillian’s witch hunt for scientists. Offering themselves to her was a big leap, and Lily didn’t take their trust lightly. Every time she went to take a stone between her fingertips, she remembered what it was like to have a hateful person touch her little hearts like that, and she focused on being as gentle and as quick as possible.
Thousands of lives flashed inside her mind. She saw good people, bad people, weak and strong. Lily saw love and trauma tangled together inside almost everyone that came before her. Some people were damaged and still hopeful, while others had fallen down under the weight of their misfortunes. Lily learned the rhythm of them all. The patterns she gathered from their willstones stacked up inside her mind, like she was listening to thousands of songs, catching the main tune in each one and filing it away. Somehow she knew that if she ever heard that particular person’s song again, she would recall the refrain, and her willstones would be able to play it back. In under an hour, Lily had the keys to thousands of minds.
Lily. It’s time.
There are more waiting to be claimed, Rowan.
It’s too late. Lillian is opening the Salem gates. Her army marches out now.
“Sachem, I have to go,” Lily said, stumbling back. Alaric nodded at Lily in understanding and she turned to go. The warriors still waiting clamored to be claimed. “I’m sorry,” Lily cried. “But it’s time.”
“Lily!” Juliet said, clutching at her sister’s arm. “Be strong. And come back.”
“I will.” Lily hugged Juliet quickly and sped off.
She ran through the last of the waiting braves, brushing her fingertips across their bared willstones. She heard their patterns in her head, but didn’t have time to process any of them as she ran through the crowd, past the outstretched necks and pleading eyes. She had no idea if it was enough, or if she’d missed these soldiers and they’d have to fight without her strength.
The shouts of the sergeants marshalling the foot soldiers rose up behind her as she ran to Rowan. She heard the troops being rallied into ranks and marching out as she ran to the back of the army, where her pyre awaited.
Lily could see the heap of wood towering high above the heads of the scrambling men and women like a huge hill of sticks. At the very top, a single stake stuck up from the pyre. Even from a distance, Lily could see iron shackles dangling from its top. Her stomach twisted with fear.
Rowan, Tristan, and Caleb met her at the bottom of the pyre. A rough staircase had been built into the side of the giant stack of wood, leading up to the stake. They waited for her at its entrance.
“Take everything off,” Rowan said, gesturing to Lily’s wearhyde gear. He held a white slip of silk in his hands.
Lily untied her boots and stripped off her clothes, her fingers fumbling and her knees shaking. As soon as she was undressed, Rowan dropped the white slip over her naked body. She shivered as the slippery cold silk whispered across her skin and flared out around her thighs.
“Good luck, Lily,” Tristan whispered, kissing her softly on the cheek.
“Don’t die,” Caleb said, trying to smile bravely. Lily nodded and swallowed hard but couldn’t smile back.
Rowan took her wrist and led her up the precarious steps to the stake. Her bare feet padded up the rough-hewn edges of the recently harvested logs. The turpentine smell of sap and abraded wood surrounded her. Clumsy with fear, she stumbled along behind Rowan up the steep and wobbly way. Her tender feet filled with splinters and began to bleed. On top of the pyre was a single plank that led to the stake. Rowan guided Lily across the plank and pushed her back against the stake.
“Are you doing this for me?” he asked, pressing against her. His face was pale and his eyes were wide and vulnerable.
“No.
I’m doing this for all of us,” Lily replied, happy he hadn’t asked her that question in mindspeak. “What are the shackles for?”
“When you start to burn, no matter what your mind wants, your body will try to leap off the pyre. It’s a reflex.”
Rowan took her wrists in his hands, looking down at them. Slowly, he raised her left arm over her head, and clasped it in one shackle. Lily started shaking all over.
“What do I do?”
“Gift as many as you can as fast as you can. If you feel yourself burning and you can’t get rid of the energy quickly enough, send it to me. No matter how much it is.” He raised her right arm over her head and locked it in the second shackle. “I can take it.”
“Oh God, Rowan. I’m scared.” Her eyes filled with tears and her chest swelled in and out with panicked breaths.
I’ll be with you. Rowan kissed her quickly, crushing her against him. Always.
He tore himself away and ran down the rough steps. “Light it!” he yelled to Tristan and Caleb.
Lily could hear her breath rasping in and out, and the iron chains jingling over her head. She looked across the battlefield and saw a bright fire at the top of the wall. Lillian’s pyre was already aflame.
She smelled the smoke first. It billowed up from underneath, choking her. Lily coughed so hard she doubled over until the chains stopped her, and saw the flames flickering below. Then she felt the heat.
Her feet were suddenly burning. An animal need to get away from the flames possessed her, and Lily tugged violently on the chains. The flames rose quickly. There was no way to escape them, no matter how she twisted or turned, and she began to burn. Screams tore out of her, horrible shrieking sounds that she’d never made before.
Lily. Take the heat. Change it into force. Give it to me, or you’ll die.
Writhing in agony, Lily took the heat in and found that as she did so, the flames felt cooler. She pulled in more and more heat until she thought she would burst with it, then turned the gathered heat into force. The roar of the flames silenced for one brief moment. Lily looked up and saw a bright column of light beaming straight up from where she stood, hundreds of feet into the sky. A witch wind howled high up in the atmosphere, spinning the clouds above like a hurricane. It made an eerie sound, like the sky were moaning. Across the battlefield, Lillian’s hurricane spun above the Citadel, a twin to Lily’s.