Trial by Fire (Worldwalker 1)

“It’s okay. They don’t know who you are.”

“Then why are they looking at us?”

“Because they know who I am.” Rowan paused before continuing. “And they’re not used to seeing me with a girl.”

They wove through a brightly lit neighborhood that used electric lights as well as bioluminescent trees. They passed bars and restaurants that spilled strange, thumping music and even stranger-looking people onto the streets. Lily couldn’t quite put her finger on the style of dress. Some of the women wore wearhyde breeches and boots with tunics or jackets over them, and some wore gowns and gloves. There was no distinct time period of dress, at least not any time period from Lily’s world.

Walking quickly through what Lily assumed was the young and trendy part of town, they made their way to a quieter, more polished neighborhood. The buildings were a bit taller here, and instead of foot traffic, there seemed to be more of the silent automobiles that Rowan had called elepods.

“What do they run on?” Lily asked, watching a particularly sleek one glide by.

“Electricity,” Rowan answered. He bounded up the outside steps of a six-story brownstone, his spirits visibly lifting.

Lily followed him up the steps. She gestured to a shining streetlamp. “What do you use as a power source? Oil, coal, natural gas?”

Rowan gave her a puzzled look. “Witches are our power source. I wasn’t kidding when I made that comment about who runs this place. Witches literally run our world, Lily.” He waved his hand in front of the door. His willstone glowed slightly and the door slid open. “And they never let us forget it,” he added under his breath.

Rowan pulled Lily inside and practically ran up the steps to the top floor. He waved his hand in front of the penthouse door, and it opened, but before he let Lily inside, he paused and closed his eyes. His willstone glowed brightly and then faded. He opened his eyes and smiled at Lily.

“Come on in. It’s safe,” he said.

Lamps flared to life as Rowan passed them, revealing a large loft space with hardwood floors, soaring ceilings studded with skylights, huge windows along two sides, and graceful columns throughout the central area. Simple, elegant furniture created distinct living spaces like a sitting area, library, and dining room, without the use of walls. It was a beautiful, modern-looking space, vastly different from the tents and cabins that Lily had heretofore associated with Rowan. And yet both environments suited him. He was just as at home in this tasteful penthouse as he was roughing it in the woods. Lily followed Rowan through his apartment with an intrigued smile on her face, wondering if he was ever going to stop surprising her.

He headed straight for the kitchen, removing his backpack along the way. He shucked off his jacket, took the supplies he’d been given at the safehouse out of his pack, and placed them on the island in the kitchen before turning to wash his hands in the sink.

“Okay. So no meat for Lily,” he mumbled, organizing the groceries on the counter. Lily sat on one of the stools on the dining room side of the island and watched while Rowan gathered pots and pans on the other. In a few minutes, he was whipping up an entire meal, stealing famished bites off an apple as he worked.

“You can really cook,” she said, marveling at how he wielded his knife as he cut vegetables. “That’s amazing.”

His eyes flashed up at hers while he chopped, the relaxed look of them pinning her to her seat. “I

love to cook. And not just in a cauldron.” A pleased smile lingered on his lips as he put the veggies in a sauté pan and turned them with a deft flick of his wrist. His dexterity fascinated Lily, and she caught herself staring at him. “You can bathe if you want while I get this ready,” he said, oblivious to her rapt attention. He lowered the heat under the sauté pan and wiped his hands on a dish towel. “I’ll get you set up.”

Rowan took her to a big bathroom and twisted the taps over a claw-footed tub. He tested the heat with his fingers and sprinkled some salts into the water. The scent that rose up with the steam was distinctly masculine. There was something intensely intimate about the thought of bathing in Rowan’s scent, and Lily felt suddenly embarrassed.

“I can take it from here,” she said, sitting next to him on the side of the tub. She tested the water with her hand and found that Rowan had chosen a perfectly cool temperature for her. Of course, she thought. He knows more about my body than I do. “You have a beautiful home. Thank you for letting me stay here with you.”

His brow furrowed, as if what she’d said troubled him. “You’re thoughtful. Considerate,” he murmured. “You’re still stubborn as hell, but you take other people’s feelings into account. It’s not all your way all the time. You have no idea how much that means to me.” His eyes drifted down, and he lingered for a moment next to her, his fingers still stirring the water. “I’m sorry I was so horrible to you when we first met.” Lily saw a glimmer of magelight under Rowan’s shirt. In her mind, she saw an image of herself, crying and clutching at her twisted ankle in the dark forest. She experienced intense feelings of regret and shame—his regret and shame. “I’m especially sorry for that.”

Lily couldn’t get her voice to function so she just nodded. She knew that he’d opened himself up to her so she wouldn’t just hear the word “sorry,” but could feel how deeply he meant it. It was the most heartfelt apology she’d ever been given, and as soon as Lily grasped how generous it was of him to share such thorny emotions with her, she reached out to him in thanks. But he stood up and moved away before she could take his hand.

“Towel. Robe,” he said, pointing to the items hanging from hooks on the back of the door as he named them, and then he left her alone.

Still shaken by Rowan’s closeness and abrupt departure, Lily peeled off her clothes and lowered herself gingerly into the scented water. As she soaked away her aches and pains, she tried not to think too much about how she’d gotten them. She failed. The gruesome battle with the Woven and the memory of the fear-drenched hike through the forest made her restless even as she tried to relax. But it was the face of that old history teacher as he was being beaten to death that finally drove her from the incongruous comfort of the tub. She knew that experience would be with her for the rest of her life, and she hoped someday she would be able to make peace with it.

Lily dried herself off, wiped steam from the mirror, and took her first look at the new haircut. She didn’t recognize herself. Wet, her hair looked black, and her eyes glowed bright green in contrast. Lily rumpled her curls with her hand, squeezing out the water. The back was clipped so short it felt nearly shaved at the nape. It didn’t look bad, she admitted, just drastically different from what she was used to.

Still missing her long hair, Lily sighed and wrapped Rowan’s robe around her. It was way too big on her, and the collar slouched down off her shoulders, but it was clean and comfortable. She left the bathroom and wandered down the hall toward the delicious smell coming from the kitchen.

Rowan was serving the finished meal onto plates when she joined him. He looked up at her and paused for a moment, his eyes resting on her bare neck. He turned and put the last pan in the sink and ran water over it. “Perfect timing,” he said over his shoulder.

Lily waited for him to sit, rolling up the sleeves of his robe until she could actually find her fingers, and then they both descended on their food like vultures. He’d made her a lentil and pasta dish, steamed artichokes, and a baked red pepper stuffed with something like herbed polenta that she’d never encountered before. It was so delicious she made delighted noises while she ate, earning several satisfied grins from Rowan. When they were finished, they both leaned back in their chairs, too tired to do much more than stare at each other hazily.

“Thank you, Rowan. That was wonderful,” Lily said. He nodded in acknowledgment. “You cooked; I’ll clean.” She stood and started grabbing plates.

“Leave them,” he said, standing.

“I don’t mind.”