Even still, they were terrified of challenging Rowan. He was so legendary they wouldn’t oppose him—even though Rowan no longer had the strength of the Salem Witch in him. Gideon was her head mechanic now, but they all seemed to overlook that fact. Either that or they knew that Lillian had never once given him the Gift. It galled Gideon. A disdainful breath escaped him, and Roberts was quick to chastise him for it.
“You’re not the only one who’d swing if this cockamamie idea of yours turns out to be nothing but a middle-of-the-woods tryst between two reunited lovers,” Roberts said hotly. “The Witch is awful fond of hanging people who oppose her these days, and you’ll get no support unless you have enough evidence to get the entire Council on our side. I reckon not even she can hang half the government. In the meantime, I suggest you watch your thoughts carefully, young Danforth.” Roberts gestured to Gideon’s willstone, dangling at his throat. “If Lillian gets one whiff that you’re disloyal, she’ll root this meeting out of your memories in a heartbeat. And then, well—we’ll all meet again at the gallows.”
CHAPTER
8
Lily and Rowan reached the edge of town at dusk. From a distance, Lily could see the towers of greenery soaring up into the air between the tall buildings, but as they approached, the colossal wall encircling Salem blotted out the city behind it. Lily tried to locate the end of the wall, but it stretched for miles in either direction.
“I’m going to have to smuggle you in. I hope the tunnel that leads to the Swallows is still up and running,” Rowan mumbled, more to himself than to Lily.
“Tunnel?” Lily interjected nervously. She didn’t like small, dark places, especially if they were underground. Lily didn’t even like the thought of going down into her basement at home, let alone through a strange tunnel. She also didn’t like the idea of going to any part of town named the Swallows, but that was the least of her worries. “My hair is so different, and it’s getting dark,” she argued. “Maybe no one will recognize me?”
Rowan shook his head. “You don’t have a willstone, Lily.”
“Yeah. And?” Lily asked desperately. She really didn’t want to go underground.
“So you won’t get in.” Rowan let out a tense breath and dove in. “There’s a string of numbers stored in everyone’s willstone. It’s your citizenship number. A related but much simpler kind of crystal—it’s called a lattice—can locate and read this number and—” Rowan realized he was rambling and dragged a frustrated hand through his hair. “Basically, our willstones are our identification. Guards check everyone’s willstone with a lattice for their citizenship number. You can’t get through any of the Salem gates after dusk without one. On top of that, it’s just weird to see someone over the age of seven without a willstone. You’d get stopped for that no matter who you look like.”
“Okay,” Lily said, backing off in the face of Rowan’s obvious disquiet even if the thought of going underground still made her shaky. “Forget I said that. You lead, I’ll follow.”
“Oh, so you can be reasonable?” he quipped. “Every day, a new surprise.”
“Quiet, you.” Lily giggled as he took her hand and pulled her tight to his side. “Before I change my mind and throw a hissy fit.”
The light mood didn’t last long. Rowan’s face darkened again as he brought Lily along the edge of the wall. Outside one of the huge gates was a shantytown of traders who had formed a rustic-looking fairground. The dark-haired, dark-eyed people in the caravan were packing in their wares for the night, pulling down the shutters of the armored carriages that doubled as merchant booths. Rowan led Lily into the maze of stalls, keeping her close.
“Don’t look up at anyone,” he whispered in her ear. Lily tilted her head down but she could still feel the Outlanders watching them. Rowan hurried her past the few who stopped to stare.
“Do they recognize me?” she asked anxiously.
“No. They’re curious to see who’s coming in from the Woven Woods alone, on foot, and uninjured,” he answered. “It doesn’t happen often.”
Lily nodded her understanding and angled herself behind him, tucking as close as she could to the curve of Rowan’s shoulder. She glanced up to the top of the city wall and could see guards moving around up there, the distance shrinking them to the size of mice.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought Lillian was hunting the Outlanders.”
“Just those pledged to Alaric. His tribe harbors scientists and fights for Outlander rights, but there are plenty of tribes that abide by Coven law.” Rowan’s mouth slid into a half smile. “Or so they say.”
As they neared the center of the fairground, the muddy dirt paths turned to wooden walkways and the armored carriages grew larger and seemed more entrenched in their positions. Children ran around, playing chasing games. It was a neighborhood of sorts, protected by the carriages along the perimeter and by the guards on the wall a hundred feet above them. Lily could smell food cooking. She heard Rowan’s stomach growl and thought for a moment that she could feel the twist of hunger inside of him.
“Can we buy food at one of the stalls?” she asked quietly in his ear. “You need to eat.”
“I’ve got you,” Rowan replied, pulling her more tightly to him. “Food can wait.”
“Unbelievable. And you call me stubborn,” she mumbled. She’d meant it as a joke, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how true it was. She and Rowan were a lot alike. In fact, Lily didn’t think she’d ever met anyone so much like her before.
“Fall,” a man said, hailing them from the shadows. Rowan stopped, his hand sliding up to the knife at his belt.
Rowan said something to the man in a language Lily couldn’t even begin to fathom. It sounded alternately guttural and nasal, and she thought maybe she’d heard it during the meeting of the elders, but she’d never guessed Rowan spoke it as well.
The man stepped into the light, revealing himself, and Rowan dropped his hand, tipping his chin up in a terse greeting. “We need to get into Salem,” Rowan said quietly.
Without a word, the man turned and Rowan began following him.
What’s the matter, Lily? You look startled.
What language was that?