Witch's Pyre (Worldwalker #3)(68)

She knew this room. She was in Lillian’s bedroom in the Citadel.

Lily sat up and saw that she wasn’t alone in the bed. Rowan lay next to her, a bare arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light. Tristan was there, too, down by her feet. Juliet, Breakfast, Una, and Samantha were draped uncomfortably over various pieces of furniture. The only person missing was Caleb.

She felt Tristan twitch as he shook himself awake. His blue eyes opened and he sighed with relief when he saw her.

Hi there, he said. You’re looking much better.

I still feel like hammered garbage. Lily smiled at him. Where’s Caleb?

Tristan’s eyes unfocused as he searched for his stone kin. Off somewhere with a friend. He’s still angry, Tristan answered.

Have I lost him? The thought tightened her throat.

He hasn’t decided yet. He had to smash his first willstone when he was still a kid to get away from his first witch, and he has no desire to repeat the experience.

Lily remembered Caleb telling her about his brief time training at the Citadel. He’s been claimed by a cruel witch who used to possess him for fun. He’d never shared any of those memories, and Lily hadn’t pushed it. It occurred to her that she had done the same thing to him, although for very different reasons. She could only hope that her reasons were good enough for Caleb and that he came back to her. For now it was out of her hands.

Not sure what to do, Lily glanced around absently at the basins of bloody water, the shreds of gauze pads, and the bottles of herbs piled around her. Detritus from the battle to heal her. Her coven slept deeply and in odd positions, as if exhaustion had hit them like the tide and left them scattered like driftwood.

It was quite a night, Tristan said in mindspeak. Lily caught glimpses of it from his mind.

They’d appeared inside the courtyard of the Citadel—the geographical parallel to Lily’s backyard in her version of Salem. The few guards who had been left behind to defend Walltop had believed she was Lillian, and they’d ushered the group inside without a word of protest. They’d looked in amazement at Samantha, back from the grave, but these were Walltop soldiers. They did not question their Witch. Everyone had been relieved to see Lord Fall back at the Citadel, especially with the Witch as injured as she was. Lily saw herself from Tristan’s perspective—a patchwork of black soot and red blood in Rowan’s arms.

She heard the words Lord Fall echoing in Tristan’s mind and she felt the struggle between envy and respect that had always plagued him sparking afresh. The elite Walltop soldiers honored Rowan and felt safer with him in command, while Tristan was merely an afterthought to them. Tristan looked at Rowan’s slack body, at the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and something other than rivalry began to creep in on him.

Do you still love him? Tristan looked up at Lily as he asked this.

I’ll never love anyone else, she replied. But every time I almost let myself run back to him, I remember.

Remember what?

In order for you to understand, I’d have to let you feel something that might be too much for you.

Give it a try.

Lily nodded and allowed this Tristan to feel what it was like when she’d Gifted her Tristan right before he died fighting the Hive. She let him feel the measure of power she was able to give him. And then she allowed him to feel what it was like when she Gifted Rowan.

Tristan inhaled sharply, eyes closed, his face turning away from the enormity of it. Lily backed off when she saw sweat beading on his upper lip. She let him catch his breath before continuing.

That’s just a memory of what Rowan can do. If he had been my head mechanic when we faced the Hive—

You think your Tristan would still be here. You blame Rowan. That isn’t fair, Lily. Not even Rowan can defeat the Hive alone.

Lily grasped at a way to turn something that had just been a jumble of feelings for so long into one coherent thought.

It’s not just about Tristan, or about me. He abandoned all of us. When Rowan stayed with Alaric and let us fend for ourselves during the crossing, so many died because he wasn’t there to save them. I can’t forgive him for that.

But he changed his mind and followed us, Tristan argued.

He was following us when he should have been leading us. No matter what he felt about me, he never should have abandoned the coven.

She’s right, Rowan said, joining them in mindspeak.

Lily saw him lying with his arm up over his head, a sad smile on his face. She had to look away. Tristan opened his mouth to say something, but Rowan cut him off.

“No, Tristan, don’t. Don’t make excuses for me.” He looked at Lily, thoughts running swiftly behind his eyes. “Just let it go.”

The moment teetered, and when the rest of the coven stirred and woke, it landed on the side of silence.

“Is she still crispy?” Breakfast croaked, his voice rusty with sleep.

Lily looked down at the pink skin on her arms. “Nope,” she answered, poking her tender skin to test it. “I think I’m good.”

“You’re awake,” Una said, surprised.

Lily waved to her, attempting a weak smile. “I feel about as good as you look,” she said.

“Funny,” Una said, dragging a few fingers through the knots in her hair.

Rowan got out of bed, his demeanor turning stormy. “Don’t move around too much,” he cautioned. “It was easier to put you back together with my tools at hand, but you’re not completely healed yet.”