Witch's Pyre (Worldwalker 3)

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.”

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.