“I never thought anything could take the curl out,” Lily said, fluffing her short, silky locks. “If you guys ever came to my world, you could make a fortune as hairdressers, you know.”
“Here. Put this on,” Rowan said, ignoring her frivolous comment and holding out a dress.
Lily pouted. “I like my wearhyde. It makes me look tough.”
“Rebels and Outlanders wear wearhyde,” he said, handing her the frothy pile of chiffon and ribbons. “Witches wear dresses.”
There was no style in Lily’s world to describe the dress, except maybe half-naked wood nymph meets couture, and she struggled with the complicated design for a good twenty minutes before she admitted defeat and called Tristan to help lace her up. The dress ended up being much skimpier than she’d thought. There was a lot of skin involved.
“I hope I don’t catch a cold,” she said jokingly.
“That’s what the gloves are for,” Tristan joked back, handing her a pair of opera-length gloves.
The dress, while complicated, kept her cool, and Lily had to admit it made a lot of sense. Crucibles and witches ran hot, and the dress managed to be sexy and structured but still airier than wearhyde.
“What are the gloves really for?” Lily asked Tristan as they went to join Rowan in the great room. Lily remembered from the walk through town the first night back from the woods that most of the women wearing dresses also wore gloves. It seemed to be more than a style or a trend.
“They’re so you don’t accidentally touch someone else’s stone,” he said, sliding a smile in her direction. “Bonfires can get a little wild.”
Tristan’s smile warmed, and Lily’s eyes dropped to the willstone hanging at his throat. She was acutely aware of the fact that she hadn’t touched it yet. It wasn’t half as lovely to her as Rowan’s stone, but she still wanted it. Lily realized she was staring and tore her gaze away.
Lily had spent the last few weeks trying to piece together the politics of the claiming ceremony. Apparently, a mechanic could assist with lower-level magic without being claimed by a witch, but in order to assist with warrior magic—the third-level magic she and Rowan had wielded against the Woven—he had to allow himself to be claimed. Lily had learned that even though Tristan had assisted Rowan with Lillian, he’d never been claimed by her. Lily didn’t know why, but she did know it was up to Tristan to offer himself to the witch. Lily didn’t want him to feel pressured to move any faster than he was comfortable. Until then, Tristan would be more of an assistant to Rowan than Lily’s mechanic. He would assist in the preparation of the rituals and add his energy to Rowan’s when they made a brew or wove a spell, but he wasn’t pledged to Lily in the same way Rowan was. Tristan could still move on and offer himself to another witch for claiming if he chose.
Lily knew that if Tristan gave himself to her, it would be a lifelong commitment. And with that much responsibility hanging over her, Lily didn’t know if she really wanted to claim Tristan yet anyway. It was a big step, and Lily was wary of it. It certainly hadn’t worked out too well for her and Rowan. And now they were stuck with each other—unless he wanted to go through the agony of smashing his stone. Lily swallowed down the lump of hurt that formed in her throat at the thought. If things continued to carry on as they had been between them, Lily didn’t doubt that Rowan might consider smashing his stone an option.
When she and Tristan came back out into the main room, they saw Rowan sitting at the table, drinking a clear liquid from a short glass. He looked up at Lily and his mouth went rigid. “You’re going to need to take two of the stones off your necklace,” he reminded her, dropping his eyes.
“I think you should wear the rose stone,” Tristan advised. “The smoke one is too big to go unnoticed, and the little golden one might get you teased.”
Lily nodded and worked the clasps at her throat. She turned her back to the guys while she tucked the two stones into her bra, aware of the fact that they’d spent the day staring at her half-naked body and not caring that it made no sense to act modest now. Some standards had to be maintained or Lily might as well just walk around in her birthday suit all day long.
The guys put on their coats and turned. Their eyes darted all over, looking for her. She’d already cast the camouflage spell.
“Pretty good, right?” she asked. Tristan agreed enthusiastically, but Rowan only nodded and busied himself setting the wards on his apartment.
They had walked about seven blocks when Tristan finally spoke. “Ro. He’s not following us,” he said. “We can’t get into the bonfire with her camouflaged. Their wards will show someone is with us.”
“Alright,” Rowan said shortly, his eyes scanning for witnesses. “Drop the spell, Lily.”
Lily allowed herself to reappear, and slowed down to walk alongside Tristan.
“Don’t forget your face glamour,” he reminded
her quietly.
Lily gave herself a slightly more triangular face, something pixieish to go with her new hair. That small change, along with all the makeup she was wearing, meant even Rowan had to admit that no one would recognize her. Tristan took Lily’s hand and pulled her close.
“You look gorgeous,” he whispered.
Lily smiled at him, wishing she felt more. This was the perfect opportunity to start over with Tristan. It was a gift, handed to her in what was otherwise a terrible situation, but now that she had his attention, she didn’t want it. He’d broken the part of her heart that she’d given to him, and no matter how much Lily tried to convince herself that he was a different Tristan who deserved a fresh chance, she couldn’t get the pieces to fit back together again in the same way.
She looked ahead at Rowan, walking in front of them. His shoulders were stiff and his back straight—every inch of him as unyielding as she was. They were so alike. How could she expect him to see past his distrust of Lillian and trust her when she couldn’t do the same for this other version of Tristan?
Lily didn’t feel like going out anymore, but she knew she couldn’t change her mind now. They joined a group of people waiting outside a large warehouse-like building. Bass thumped through the walls. They didn’t wait long. A female bouncer spotted Rowan and waved them over before they’d even joined the line.
“Rowan Fall,” the woman purred. She held up her hand, making the air shimmer and bend as she dropped her ward to allow them to enter. “Do me a favor, precious. Try not to start too many catfights tonight.”
Rowan paused and leaned close to her, letting his lips barely brush her cheek. It was so blatantly flirty that Lily felt more puzzled than jealous. It wasn’t like him. The bouncer tried to wind her arms around his neck, but Rowan broke away with a cocky grin and led Tristan and Lily inside.