Witch's Pyre (Worldwalker 3)

Grace frowned. “We don’t have mechanics here,” she said, her tone chilly.

“Pardon me,” Juliet apologized, taken aback. “Have I offended you in some way?”

Grace’s smile was brittle. “I know that you are from the east and that you do things differently there, but we don’t claim people in Bower City.” Grace cast her eyes back at Lily’s mechanics, looking as if she pitied them. “And it might be better not to talk too much about your . . . situation . . . with others while you are here.”

Lily and Una exchanged a look.

“We’ll be discreet, if that’s your wish,” Juliet said. “But may I ask why it’s such an issue?”

“I guess there’s no way to be delicate about this,” Grace said plainly. “We consider claiming mechanics a form of slavery, and owning another person is a crime here.”

Lily opened her mouth to argue, but Juliet waved her protestations away. This was not the time to get into an argument about whether or not claiming someone was the same as ownership.

“But how do witches perform magic without mechanics?” Caleb asked.

Grace stopped and turned to face him. “Witches, crucibles—and yes, even mechanics—can heal, create energy to power a city, and make products that the people need without anyone having to claim anyone else. There’s only one form of magic a witch truly needs a vessel for. Warrior magic. And we don’t think people should die because witches can’t control their lust for battle.”

“That’s very noble,” Tristan said with a raised eyebrow, “but how to do you defend yourselves without warriors?”

“We don’t,” Grace said simply. “Something else does that for us.”

They had come close enough to the city to see through the main gate. Grace turned to it now, directing their attention to the city beyond. Before Lily could get a clear look, Tristan’s arm shot out, barring Lily from going any farther. As he pulled her up into his arms and turned to bolt, she could feel fear and confusion ringing through Una, Caleb, and Breakfast, their mindspeak coming at her in a jumble.

Run!

It doesn’t make any sense . . .

Get her out of here, Tristan!

Over Tristan’s shoulder, Lily was just able to make out Warrior Sisters hovering around the entrance, their whips hanging ready by their sides.

CHAPTER

2

Her view of sky and flowers jostled chaotically as Tristan thundered toward what looked like a stand of trees rimming the horizon, but no matter how hard Tristan ran, the trees didn’t seem to come any closer.

“It’s too far!” she yelled. Tristan only dropped his head and ran harder.

Lily looked over his shoulder and saw one of the emissaries catching up to Tristan. He was waving his arms over his head and shouting, “Wait!”

Tristan wasn’t waiting. But there was something about the emissary that made Lily beat against Tristan’s chest, some combination of surprise and openness that made her believe that there was more to this situation than peril.

“Tristan, stop,” she yelled. “Let’s talk to them, at least.”

Tristan finally slowed to a stop. Lily slid out of his arms, avoiding his eyes. She watched the emissary instead.

He was about Tristan’s height, but his build was less bulky and his bone structure much lighter. He had black hair and eyes, and Asian features, although Lily couldn’t quite place his heritage. She guessed he was only a few years older than they were. The emissary wisely came to a halt several paces away from Tristan.

“I know it’s a shock, but please come back and let us explain about the Hive,” he said in a thoroughly rational tone. “I promise no harm will come to you.”

Tristan hesitated, but Lily stepped forward, avoiding contact with him. “Let’s at least hear them out,” she said, still not looking at him. “Not like we’ve got any other choice.”

They followed the emissary back to the group and Grace explained the strange arrangement between the people of Bower City and the Hive. For over a hundred years the Hive had been “choosing” people, flying them to the coast as they had with Lily and her mechanics, and leaving them there. The Hive had allowed those chosen humans to build a city and go about their lives as long as they did so in a diligent and orderly fashion. “That’s all they want?” Caleb asked, sneering his disbelief. “Order?”

“I swear it,” Grace replied. She gestured down to the bright blossoms at her feet. “They don’t even demand that we maintain these fields of flowers to provide them with food. We do it voluntarily. It’s our gift to them for giving us so much.”

Lily looked around at her coven, silently asking them what they thought.