“In the cities. When do you?”
“Well, technically, it’s eighteen. But in my country, there are still some things you can’t do until you’re twenty-one.”
Rowan made a face, as if he thought that was insane. “In the Outlands we come of age at fourteen. Most men have families by the time they’re sixteen.” He put down the stick he was using to stir the acorn and wrapped his hand in the sleeve of his jacket. “But Outlanders don’t have any time to waste. Most don’t live to see fifty.”
Disturbed by this, Lily frowned pensively as she watched Rowan pull the pot off the fire and drain away the red-brown water. At least that explained why all the elders seemed on the young side. Outlanders didn’t live long enough to get old. Rowan fished out all the acorns and gave them to Lily.
“Did you already eat?” she asked him.
“I’m fine.”
“Rowan, seriously.” Lily tried to put half of the acorns into his hand, but he wouldn’t take them.
“I don’t have to eat. I’m taking all the energy I need from you.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, completely lost.
He placed two fingers on her wrist as he’d done many times in the days before, as if he were taking her pulse. Lily saw his willstone glow subtly under his clothes.
“Your body is an energy factory, Lily. You can take a handful of food—in the right chemical combinations, of course—and turn it into enough raw energy to sustain twenty people. Eventually I’ll have to eat for the protein and vitamins that my body needs to maintain itself, but I can live for days off of your excess energy.”
“That is so unbelievably weird,” she said, shaking her head. “So when you touch my wrist like that, you’re taking, like, sips of energy?”
“And regulating your reactions,” he said, laughing a little at Lily’s choice of words. “You haven’t learned how to safely process all the different agents in the air and in your food.”
Lily had been so overwhelmed since the raid she hadn’t noticed that she’d gone two days without getting a fever or a rash or even a stuffy nose. She hadn’t had a full day completely free of a reaction in years, and certainly not on a day spent outside.
“Can you teach me?” she asked, leaning closer to him.
“Of course,” he replied with a small smile.
He had such an expressive mouth. Now that she was looking at him up close, she could see that even when his eyes were guarded, his lips conveyed every new emotion that sped through him, as if they were more sensitive than most people’s. Lily couldn’t stop watching them.
“Eat,” he reminded her.
She pulled her gaze away and started in on her acorns, pleasantly surprised to find them quite satisfying, if a bit bland.
“Got any salt?” she asked jokingly. His face pinched with worry.
“You need it. Badly.” Rowan rubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin and his leg started bouncing up and down nervously.
“It’s okay. They’re really good just like this,” Lily said.
“It’s not about taste,” he replied with frustration. “Salt is an important mineral for a crucible.”
“Why?”
“It’s a special substance. It carries a charge,” he said slowly, like she was a child. “Do you know what electricity is?”
“Yes.” Lily tried not to sound offended or sarcastic. She knew Rowan couldn’t possibly understand that to her, parts of his world looked like they still had one foot in the Stone Age. “And I know that salt is an electrolyte. We understand biology very well in my world.”
“Okay.” He paused, giving Lily another strange look before continuing. “Well, our bodies are electric, and we all use salt for a number of things—nerve impulses, muscle contraction, extracting energy from food. But a crucible’s body speeds through these processes differently, and at an accelerated rate. As a result, you generate huge amounts of energy. You also use up a lot more salt.”
“Is that why I freaking love Fritos?” Lily asked. He didn’t get it. “Forget it. Keep going.”
“Witchcraft and salt go hand in hand. Your body practically runs on it,” he said, summing it up. “And I’m out of salt.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s just a craving.”