Witch's Pyre (Worldwalker 3)

“We’d let you claim us,” Riley said.

“And you speak for everyone?” Lily snapped. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you, Riley. You aren’t in charge down there.”

“No, but I know how my people feel. I know they want to fight,” he said stubbornly. “And I can bring Mary if you’d rather talk to her.”

Lily opened her mouth to decline, and Juliet spoke up. “The least you can do is meet with her,” she said.

“It’s a waste of time,” Lily argued.

“We need all the help we can get,” Una said, studying Lily carefully. Una switched to mindspeak.

What’s wrong with you?

One of Lillian’s memories flew from her mind to Una’s.

. . . I struggle and kick, but they pin me down with the noose poles. Even from five feet away I can smell the corruption of their innards in the stink of their breath. They leer at me, trying to push the bodice of my torn dress aside to get a glimpse of my bare breasts . . .

Una recoiled, shaken by the terror and helplessness that Lillian had felt.

Those are the kind of men out there on the ranches, Una. Murderers and rapists, Lily said in mindspeak. I have no interest in claiming them.

They can’t all be like that, Una replied, more out of optimism than true belief.

“And what if they are?” Lily asked aloud.

Una gave her a calculating look. “What are you willing to do to get rid of the Hive?” she asked flatly. “You better decide now, because I’m pretty sure Grace isn’t squeamish about who she’d claim.”

Lily glared at Una, and saw tough love glaring back. Una never let her get away with anything.

“Damn it,” Lily breathed. She turned to Riley. “Arrange a meeting with Mary, but tell her not to come if she’s just going to waste my time. I’m not doing this unless she can bring me an army.”

“I’ll tell her,” he said with a brisk nod. His horse-trading done, Riley looked down on the remains of her bread. “Are you going to eat that?”

Lily ended up having to order Gavin to bring more food. Riley ate with the mechanical determination of someone who had spent more days of his young life going hungry than feeling full, and he wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity to gorge until he couldn’t see straight. When his gargantuan appetite was finally appeased, Lily sent him back to the tunnels with a basket of food for Pip and the other children who followed him around like the Pied Piper.

It was almost evening before Rowan returned with Caleb and Tristan. At some point Tristan had joined Rowan to try to help him persuade Caleb to come back to the coven, and it was obvious by the way the three of them hung together that they had spent quite a long time hashing things out. They already had similar ways of moving and gesturing from having grown up together, but it was more pronounced when they’d spent long stretches in one another’s heads. Physically, they were three very different men—Caleb dark and hulking, Tristan light-eyed and tall, and Rowan slender and as elegantly muscled as a dancer—but when they spent a lot of time together they could easily be mistaken for brothers.

Lily watched Caleb anxiously. She brushed up against his mind and gently asked for entry. He let her in, but only so far. She felt a pang of rejection and desperately hoped he wouldn’t stay angry with her forever. Caleb had been her shoulder to cry on in some of her darkest times. The thought of losing that closeness was unbearable to her.

I’m sorry, she said in mindspeak. She didn’t try to excuse her behavior with an explanation. It was up to him to forgive her or not.

Do better, he replied, holding back a tide of unpleasant memories from his childhood.

I will, Lily promised. She felt him relax and knew that the danger of losing him had passed. For now, anyway.

“Let me see how much of my hard work you undid today,” Rowan said, and came forward to check Lily’s injuries.

Rowan laid two fingers on the pulse point at Lily’s wrist. She saw his willstone flare enchantingly and became aware of the featherlight presence of him inside her skin. He was barely touching her with his fingertips, but the contact was still more intimate than if he’d slipped his hands under her dress.

“Better,” he said quietly.

“When will I be ready for the pyre?” she asked, keeping her hand close to his.

“You need at least another week.”

“Too long,” she replied with a little shake of her head. “Tomorrow, after I meet with Mary.”

“Mary?” he asked, surprised. “The leader of the tunnel gang?”