Witch's Pyre (Worldwalker #3)(69)

He pulled open a drawer and took out a white shirt, snapping it once to loosen the creases. Bare chested and completely at ease in this space, Rowan opened the door and let his voice boom down the high and wide corridor. “Gavin!” he called.

While Rowan pulled on his shirt, still stored after all this time in Lillian’s personal chest of drawers, Lily could hear the fumbling steps of someone scurrying to come to the door.

“Yes, Lord Fall?” inquired a blond boy who appeared before him anxiously. Lily remembered a younger version of him from Tristan’s recollection of the Stacks.

“Go down to the kitchens and order breakfast for everyone here. Then come back and clean up,” he said briskly, but kindly. “When you’re done with that, I want you to find some suitable traveling clothes for the Ladies Juliet and Samantha, and for the rest of the Witch’s guests.”

“Yes, Lord Fall,” Gavin said before turning and running back the way he came.

Rowan left the door open while he took up his wristwatch from the top of Lillian’s vanity table, snapped it on, and then gathered a few strangely shaped coins that he slid into his pocket.

“Where are you going?” Tristan asked.

“To get Caleb and bring him back to the coven, where he belongs,” Rowan replied over his shoulder. He stopped at the door for a moment to glance meaningfully at Lily. “I can’t let him make the same mistake I did, can I?”

As Rowan swept out of the room, Una and Breakfast exchanged a look.

“So that’s Lord Fall,” Breakfast said, his eyebrows raised.

“He’s very . . . lordly,” Una added. “It’s kinda hot.” She patted Breakfast’s arm consolingly. “No offense.”

“No, I’m with you,” Breakfast said in agreement. “I almost saluted him.”

Lily could feel Tristan watching her, but her eyes stayed fixed on the previously charged space that faded into listlessness now that Rowan had left it.

Toshi met Mala for lunch at the same seaside restaurant where he’d taken Lily. He was distracted, and annoyed that Mala was running ten minutes late.

He and Ivan had been desperately trying to come up with something to kill off the Hive. The problem was, Ivan had made them too well. They were disease resistant, able to bear high volumes of toxic chemicals, and they were immune to all of the lethal forms of fungus that can sometimes plague insects. They were running out of time, and Mala was wasting his.

She rushed into the restaurant in a self-important flurry, wearing a burgundy-and-gold sari that brought out the golden highlights in her dark skin, and a tissue-thin veil bordered by gold medallions that tinkled pleasingly when she moved her head.

The veil, Toshi thought, was a bit much. But Mala had never been one to exercise restraint.

“Grace tells me you have no idea where the Proctor witch went,” Mala said, diving right in before they’d even gotten their drinks.

Toshi forced a smile through pursed lips. “Lily never mentioned she planned on leaving,” he replied. “It was very sudden.”

“And the Hive just let her go?” She pulled a face. “That’s odd. But who knows why the Hive does anything?”

Toshi accepted his champagne from the server and took a sip to stall for a moment. Up until now, he couldn’t be sure how much Mala knew about Grace and the Hive, but it seemed she, like the rest of Bower City, had no idea Grace controlled them.

“Grace didn’t discuss Lily with you?” he asked in return.

Mala flicked her head and her veil chimed. “I honestly don’t care what happened to her.” She scanned the horizon, her expression a placid mask over bitterness.

“Just as long as she doesn’t come back?” Toshi guessed.

Mala shook her head and leaned forward, placing her forearms against the edge of the table.

“I’m past that,” she said. “It’s clear to me now that I’m not Grace’s first choice. And if I’m not her first, I’m just waiting around until the next Lily Proctor comes along.”

Toshi wondered how blind Mala had to be to miss the fact that there were no other witches like Lily Proctor. Not that Grace intended to cede power to anyone. Mala’s role as lieutenant governor was created to keep up the illusion of freedom. He watched a Worker land on the white tablecloth.

“What do you intend to do?” he asked.

Mala looked down at her hands. “I’m done waiting.”

“You intend to leave Bower City?”

“I didn’t say that.” She leaned back again, adopting airs of confidence and relaxation he doubted she truly felt. “You’re never going to be Ivan’s second, you know. Grace told me months ago that she’d never let your confirmation go through.”

Toshi didn’t appreciate being baited. He narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you want, Mala?”

She gave him the first genuine smile he’d ever gotten from her. “We’ve never been friends,” she said candidly. “Which is strange, because we have so much in common. For a while I thought it was because you and Grace were involved a long time ago, and there’s always been an attraction between us.” She waved away her own musings without bothering to check if Toshi agreed with her. “The point is that both of us have been strung along by Grace for decades,” she continued. “But we’re not the only people in this city who’ve noticed that she’s been in power for too long. There’s a lot of people who—”