Witch's Pyre (Worldwalker #3)(14)

That’s me now. I’m the Salem Witch. At thirteen that makes me the youngest in history. As Rowan places it on my head all I can think is finally, as if I’ve waited centuries.

“Proud of yourself?” Rowan teases.

“Let’s go,” I say, rolling my eyes and trying not to blush.

“Are you sure you don’t want those?” Rowan gestures down into the black silk for the rest of the Salem Witch’s crown jewels. I balk. I don’t even want to look at them.

“I’m not going to the pyre this instant,” I say, rubbing my wrists absently. “It’s overkill.”

Rowan nods and covers them so I don’t have to see them. I’ve heard that the blood of other Salem Witches is scored into the metal, baked there by such high heat that nothing could ever really scour them clean. I’m not ready for the shackles of my new position. Not yet. Tonight I just want the crown.

We go downstairs and all eyes land on me. Councilmen smear on their smarmiest congratulations. The heads of the other twelve Covens narrow their eyes in dislike while they congratulate me, their smiles wide and frozen.

Laughter froths inside me. I try to stamp it down, but the more solemn I try to behave, the more I find myself fighting the urge to bray like a donkey. I’m a liar. I’ve somehow convinced this pack of fools that I’m good enough for this, but I know I’m not, and soon they’re all going to figure out what a fraud I am.

I want to laugh in everyone’s face, I say to Rowan.

Don’t, Rowan warns. They already hate you.

If they already hate me, then why bother?

Lillian—

But it’s too late. I’m already laughing, laughing, laughing in their stupid faces . . .

Lillian breezed out of Lily’s mind again, called away by something urgent. Lily wondered what it was that kept diverting Lillian’s attention, but she supposed that being the Salem Witch would keep one busy. Lily had never filled that role personally or experienced much of it through Lillian’s or Rowan’s memories.

It seemed like every memory of Lillian’s had Rowan in it. Lily was beginning to wonder whether there was any part of Lillian’s life that didn’t include him. At least, any part she cared to remember.

Lily, are you okay? It was Juliet. Lily looked at her and shook her head.

I feel like I’m losing it. What are we doing here, Jules?

Juliet shook her head and shrugged, wearing a helpless grin. As Lily smiled back she realized that she’d called this Juliet Jules—that was the nickname she had only ever used for her actual sister. She didn’t regret it, though, or wish she could take it back. It comforted her too much.

Toshi brought the coven across the atrium and to another wing of Grace’s enormous mansion, where the ball was already in progress.

A slim Indian woman in her mid-twenties met them before they could slip in through one of the sets of French doors that opened into the atrium from the ballroom.

“Toshi. Grace is waiting,” she said. Her voice was tight and her sharp smile didn’t make it up to her eyes. She wore a smoke-colored willstone. It wasn’t as dark or as large as Grace’s, but it was still impressive. Lily belatedly recognized her as one of the attendants who came with Grace and Toshi to the field of flowers earlier that day.

“We’ve met, but we haven’t been introduced,” Lily said, putting herself forward. The woman recoiled slightly, as if Lily were some blundering hick.

“I’m sorry,” Toshi apologized, making it seem as if the breach in etiquette was his fault. “Lily Proctor, this is Mala Nehru—Lieutenant Governor of Bower City.”

“You look much better,” Mala said, her lips smiling but her eyes narrowed.

“Feeling great,” Lily said. Her return smile was made through gritted teeth.

“Good. All these people are here to see you, after all. We wouldn’t want you to be feeling poorly.” Mala stepped uncomfortably close. Lily felt her mechanics stiffen and silently told them to keep back. For a moment she thought Mala was going to try to uncover the other two willstones she’d hidden inside her obi, but instead Mala untied the outer sash and retied it while she spoke. “You knot once, twist—like this—and then tuck the edges.”

“Thank you,” Lily said, meeting and holding Mala’s eyes. They were standing close enough to kiss. Lily didn’t back away.

“Anything I can do to help,” Mala answered before turning and leading them into the ballroom.

That was creepy, Breakfast said to the coven in mindspeak. Do we have to follow her?

The coven laughed under their breath to relieve some of the tension. Toshi watched their changing demeanor like a kid pressed against a candy shop window.

She’s just trying to throw you off balance, Juliet said to Lily in mindspeak. It’s such an obvious power play it makes her look weak.

Juliet had a knowing smirk on her face as her eyes followed Mala into the ballroom. This Juliet, the one who’d been raised alongside Lillian, knew how to navigate a nest of vipers.

Keep telling me things like that, Lily replied, and stepped between the billowing curtains that framed the French doors.

Inside, the chandeliers overhead filled the room with a bubbly golden light, as if the air had been infused with champagne. Gilded walls and sparkling glass doors bounced that light around until it fell in soft focus upon the jewel-like people. The style of dress seemed to favor kimonos, but there were also some saris and a few dresses that appeared to be from the Georgian era in England. Some of the men and women wore war paint, but it was placed to please rather than intimidate. Everyone looked slim, healthy, and relatively young.