Trial by Fire (Worldwalker 1)

“Drink,” he said, offering the red-bottomed pot for her to take.

“But … it’s burnin

g hot,” she said, not understanding what he wanted her to do.

“Heat is energy. You are a crucible. Take this cauldron, drink this brew, and use the energy to change the elements I’ve given you into blood, marrow, and bone.”

Lily gaped at him.

“Do it now, Lily.” He shoved the small cauldron into her hands, and tipped the rim toward her face. Left with no other option, she gulped the liquid down rather than let it splash over her face and hoped that if she got it over with quickly she’d suffer less.

Lily didn’t feel a thing. The hot brew didn’t scald her tongue or mouth. Her hands weren’t singed. She turned the ashy cauldron around in her fingers, feeling pulsing warmth, but not pain. She saw Rowan’s willstone flare as he moved closer to her.

“I’ll help you guide it,” he murmured, his eyes half closed.

Rowan reached out and took her shoulders, slowly drawing her closer to him until they were nearly pressed against each other. The slippery, silver light of his willstone pulsed in the scant inch that was left between them. Rowan pushed her back until she was lying down, and leaned over her. The light from his willstone began flashing over her body and arcing down in little tendrils, like lightning.

Lily felt a tingling storm in her body that drew the heat from the brew in her belly down to her ankle. When it reached her injury, the heat burst into life and crawled like fingers of fire under her skin.

Suddenly, Lily could see the damage. She saw the smashed bone, the torn ligaments, the shredded blood vessels, and she knew what she had to do. She told the fingers of fire to put the broken bits back together, to use the free elements that she’d inhaled to mix with the collagen, proteins, and minerals that came from the brew to knit her body back together. In seconds, Lily’s ankle reassembled.

“Now. Call out the fluid—the swelling and the blood. Remetabolize it,” Rowan whispered, his soft mouth brushing against her jawbone as he spoke. Lily saw what he meant and released the pressure, calling all the fluid back to her organs to be recycled.

The light from Rowan’s willstone went out, and he sighed, drooping on his elbows for a moment before he pushed himself away from her. Lily sat up. She turned her ankle around effortlessly, drawing a circle with her big toe. It was as good as new.

Lily pressed her foot against the ground, testing whether or not it could handle weight. There was no pain. She stared at her perfect ankle, not really believing that five minutes ago it had been swollen and broken.

“Magic,” she whispered, not convinced that she could handle this.

“Of course,” Rowan said, looking at Tristan. Again, Lily got the feeling that they were communicating without words.

“What?” she asked defensively.

“We’ve decided that you don’t need to be locked up. You can sleep in a tent tonight,” Tristan said. He crossed to Lily and helped her up off the ground. “This one behind you should be fine. Rowan and I will be in that one,” he continued, and gestured to the tent next to hers. “Are you tired?”

“Of course I’m tired,” Lily said in a quavering voice. She was trying to stay calm, but too much had happened. She’d been teleported, kidnapped, tied up, raided by monsters, frog-marched through the woods in the dead of night, and now this. Magic. And she’d been the one to do it. Before she lost it completely, Lily whirled around and dove into her tent.

“There should be a canteen of water in there if you get thirsty,” Tristan called after her. “Good night.”

Lily didn’t answer. She pulled the flap down over the entrance and stood in the dark tent, panting hysterically. When her eyes adjusted, Lily saw what looked liked a rolled-up sleeping bag in the corner. She went to it quickly and laid it out on the ground. Her breath was coming in and out of her in fretful little gulps, and her hands were shaking. Kneeling on her makeshift bed, Lily cupped her hands over her mouth and tried to slow her breathing down.

She wanted to go home. She wanted her sister to come into the tent and tell her everything was going to be okay. Lily crawled onto her bag, tears spilling down her face. All she could think about was that Juliet must be worried sick about her. Lily had disappeared into thin air, abandoning her without warning. Lily laid her head down and wished with her whole heart that Juliet could hear her.

Help me, Juliet!

* * *

Gideon heard a furtive knock on the door of his personal suite of rooms at the Citadel. It was late, so late it was almost early morning.

The girl across from him stiffened with fear at the sound. She was an Outlander who’d tapped on his window out of desperation. Or stupidity. Gideon didn’t know which yet. He didn’t think she had the right papers to allow her inside the city walls after dark, and she certainly didn’t have permission to be inside the smaller circle of the Citadel walls. If she was caught by one of the guards, she would end up in prison for sure. She looked at him pleadingly and Gideon smiled. He liked her better when she was scared.

“Who’s there?” he called out.

“Carrick,” answered the man on the other side of the door.

“Give me a moment.”

Gideon flicked his head toward the window. “Get out,” he said to the girl.