“Stay relaxed. Let it happen,” Rowan replied. He leaned forward, watching her intently. “I’m right here, Lily. You’re safe.”
Lily looked up at him, his reassurance worrying her, and she wondered how strong the sensation was going to get. The stones began to shiver on the velvet, and the thrumming in Lily’s hand became heat. She moved her hand over the array of stones slowly as Rowan had instructed. The heat grew to a burning itch under her skin. It spread up her arm, crawling under her skin like a disease.
“Is it almost over?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“I know it’s hard. I’m right here.” Rowan’s voice was low and soothing. She felt the string between them tighten, as if he were pulling her closer to him without moving. “Breathe slowly, Lily. In and out.”
Lily realized she was panting. Sweat broke out on her upper lip. She tried to slow her breath and relax as Rowan had instructed her, but the sensation was alarming. It was worse than pain. It felt as if she were being invaded. “I think something’s wrong, Rowan,” she gasped. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be like this.”
“You’re growing another limb made out of crystal. The rest of your body will try to stop it like it’s an infection, but it isn’t. Fight the instinct to pull your hand away.”
The itch was intolerable. Her stomach churned with sick acid. Her heart pattered randomly like rain on a roof. “I’m scared.”
“I’m here. Be brave, Lily. You can do this.”
Her whole body felt like it was burning. Sweat trickled between her breasts, soaked her hair, and dripped off the end of her nose. The itch clawed at her until she wanted to dig her skin off. Lily forced hersel
f to keep her hand over the willstones even though it felt like holding her hand over an open flame—like her flesh was crisping and melting off her bones.
“It hurts,” she whimpered.
“I know, Lily. I know it hurts,” Rowan said, his voice rough.
Three stones lit up and began to glow. A large one maintained a steady brightness, but two smaller ones twinkled and flared as if they were trying to muscle their way in and outshine the big one.
“You’re nearly there. Keep going.”
In desperation, a part of her reached out and grabbed on to the string connecting her to Rowan. She clung to it while the rest of her thrashed about in a sea of fire. Lily screamed in pain.
At the sound of her scream, all three of the glowing stones jumped off the velvet and smacked into the palm of her hand. Lily wrapped her fingers around them and crumpled onto her side.
The three stones pulsed in her hand, taking their first, tired breaths. Lily pulled her knotted fist up to her face and opened it carefully. Cradled in her palm were three new hearts she would wear outside her skin for the rest of her life. The littlest one had a shy golden glow to it. The medium-size one looked a bit pinkish and even though it was still exhausted from its birth, it somehow managed to flash at Lily like a cheeky little flirt. But it was the largest stone that commanded Lily’s focus. It wriggled with platinum filaments of light that rose and sank in the smoky depths of the stone as if it were an endless well of light and dark. The large stone was strong and confident, and Lily knew it could outshine the sun if she asked it to.
“Three stones,” Rowan whispered. His face grew fearful. “Unbelievable.”
And then she passed out.
* * *
Gideon looked up at the window on the top floor. Rowan’s wards were so strong that even though Gideon stretched his meager talent as a mechanic to its limits, he couldn’t even sense that there were people up there.
A mechanic’s first responsibility is to detect the physical needs of his crucible and to alleviate any block or discomfort while she is enspelled, sometimes to the point of keeping her heart beating and her lungs breathing for her while she is transmuting matter and energy. Mechanics were built to be sensitive to physical needs. Even the name “mechanic” came from the fact that first and foremost they were to tend to the machinery of a witch’s body while every ounce of her being went into her willstone. And Gideon couldn’t even sense a top floor of the building, let alone feel a heartbeat up there. Rowan’s strength was terrifying. And infuriating.
When Gideon was young, he used to look at windows at night. Just behind the glass were perfect lives that glowed inside a perfect frame. They always seemed happy with what they had. Gideon didn’t know if he envied those people or pitied them, but he couldn’t deny that they fascinated him. He realized that he was staring at a window again, wishing he were on the other side of the glass. It had been so long since he’d done that.
“Are you sure she’s up there?” Carrick asked.
“She’s there,” Gideon replied, failing to keep his tone in check. He never should have gone up there. Never should have shown his hand like that to Rowan. Carrick gave him a sideways glance, hearing Gideon’s petulance.
“What are your orders?”
“Set up a permanent guard,” Gideon snarled. “I want this building watched night and day.”
“The Councilmen forbade this.”
“The Councilmen are overcautious,” Gideon said coolly, finally able to rein in his emotions. Carrick nodded in deference, and Gideon continued. “Only hire guards who haven’t been claimed by Lillian. And no one with any ties to the Council or the Coven.”
Carrick exhaled sharply. “You don’t leave me many options.” Carrick regarded Rowan’s dark windows for a moment. “I’ll need something in return.”