Carrick was silent for a moment. “You can go now,” he said.
“No, actually I can’t.” Esmeralda sounded annoyed. “Gideon had me come out here while he’s gone for the next two days, because he doesn’t want you left alone with her.”
“And where is he?” Carrick asked.
“Halfway to Providence, I expect.”
Lily heard a fast movement, followed by a cry of alarm from Esmeralda. The sound of her scream was abruptly cut off. Lily wanted to open her eyes, but fought the urge. She heard stumbling steps, grunts of exertion as Carrick and Esmeralda fought hand to hand, and then the sound of a body hitting the floor hard.
“Gideon will kill you for this,” Esmeralda said in a strained and whispery voice. Lily could hear fluid gurgling in her lungs.
“For what?” Carrick asked pleasantly. “You never arrived. I’m afraid the Woven must have gotten you on your way here.”
“People know I’m here. The soldiers in the camp up there,” Esmeralda said.
“Oh. You mean the same soldiers who know you were brought up in the Coven, then changed sides to become a rebel, and now because you’ve been ignored by a man, you’ve changed sides a third time?” Lily could nearly hear the smile in his voice. “Soldiers hate turncoats. I won’t even have to pay them off to keep this from Gideon.”
“It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t just about Rowan,” Esmeralda pleaded. “It’s her. She’s exactly like Lillian, but none of you can see it.”
Lily heard crying.
“Was he worth it?” Carrick asked, like he didn’t understand. “Was Rowan really worth all this?”
“I had to get rid of her,” Esmeralda said, sniffling back tears. “After everything she did to him, he still fell in love with her again. Tristan, too. Everyone loves Lily,” she said bitterly. “They’re too stupid to see she’s going to betray them all over again.”
A few moments passed. Lily heard gasps, choking coughs, and finally, Esmeralda’s death rattle.
Carrick approached the bars of Lily’s cell. From behind her eyelids, she saw his magelight brighten. She kept her eyes clamped shut, feigning unconsciousness, as he looked her over carefully. He seemed to stare at her forever, but after several harrowing seconds his magelight dimmed and he turned back to Esmeralda’s corpse.
Lily listened as he struggled with her body. The only way in or out of the oubliette was by rope, and although she knew he was strong, Carrick would have no easy task getting her dead weight up it. She wondered why he didn’t call for the help of the soldiers above if they were as keen on getting rid of Esmeralda as Carrick had said. He must have been lying.
Either that or he wanted some time with Lily without the soldiers knowing he was down there alone with her, which was probably the whole point of killing Esmeralda in the first place. Carrick wanted complete control over Lily and her willstones. She shook at the thought, fighting back tears, until she managed to calm herself again.
Several times, Lily heard the damp, smacking sound of Esmeralda’s body hitting the floor and her stomach twisted. Esmeralda had orchestrated Lily’s capture in the tunnel—she’d weakened Lily, timed it perfectly, and probably set the charges aboveground that brought the ceiling down—but Lily couldn’t hate her now. She didn’t have the energy.
After a lot of grunting and swearing, Carrick made it up the rope with Esmeralda’s body. He’d managed that faster than she thought. That probably meant he’d be back soon. The tears started again. Lily wiped them away and sat up. The blackness around her buzzed, her head felt hot, and she felt something against her cheek. Was she still sitting up? The darkness was so complete it confused her sometimes. Up and down hadn’t mattered in days, but she was pretty sure what she felt on her cheek was her mattress. She’d fallen back down onto the bed. Her body was much weaker than she’d thought. She tried to remember when she’d last tried to stand. It must have been days.
Magelight glowed at the end of the hallway. Lily heard the creak of the rope as he descended. So soon. She hadn’t figured out anything yet, and she was having trouble putting together the motions required to sit up and face him with some spunk. She was going to die lying down. The thought galled her.
“Lily?” called a voice—a deep, lovely voice.
“Rowan?” Lily managed to turn her head on the mattress. She saw him, his gorgeous willstone throwing his particular brand of shimmering light around him. He ran to her cell. His face went blank and his hands clutched the bars as he stared at her. He was breathing hard. Her upper lip tore when she smiled at him and she tasted blood.
“Where are your willstones?” he whispered.
“The drawer.”
Rowan turned and rushed back to the desk, opened the drawer, and lifted his hand to take them. A whimper escaped Lily in anticipation of the agony to follow. Rowan’s head turned, and he looked at her, his eyes narrowed.
“He didn’t touch—” Rowan saw the terrified look on Lily’s face. “He did.” Rowan took a steadying breath. “I won’t hurt you.”
He reached into the drawer and picked up Lily’s stones. She braced herself, but instead of pain and nausea she felt warmth and comfort. Lily sighed with the odd pleasure that was simply the absence of pain and realized that she’d been hurting for what felt like forever.
“You’re going to have to come the rest of the way to me. I can’t reach you.” Lily opened he
r eyes and saw Rowan, his arm stretched toward her, straining against the bars. His face was desperate. “Please. You have to try.”
Lily rolled onto her side. She had no hope of standing. Her legs wouldn’t hold her. She flopped out of bed onto the floor. A wave of sickness overtook her, and she retched but nothing came out.