He smiled at her. Don’t forget it again.
Tristan brought her a small bowl of broth while Caleb and Rowan saw to the horses. The broth didn’t go down easily. After just a few swallows, Lily felt uncomfortably full and oddly shaky. She almost threw it up. The guys exchanged worried glances as they packed. They were probably all arguing inside their heads about what to do about her, but Lily knew that they only had one choice. If they didn’t push on, they’d be found by Gideon’s men, or eaten by Woven. They had to make it the rest of the way to the sachem’s camp outside of Salem, or they didn’t stand a chance.
“How much farther do we have to go?” Lily asked Tristan.
“Just a few hours’ ride. Can you make it?”
She smiled weakly at Tristan as he helped her sit up. “Every morning—at least I think it was in the morning—the shaman would ask me if I was dead yet.”
“The shaman?” he asked. Tristan gave her a worried look, like he thought her fever was making her lose her senses again. She patted his shoulder, a lump forming in her throat. She hadn’t had a chance to mourn her lost friend. He’d been there for her when she needed him, but she’d been too late to help him. Much too late.
“I’m not dead yet, Tristan,” she said roughly through her tight throat. “I’ll make it.”
Caleb helped put her on the horse in front of Tristan. It wasn’t until she was mounted that she realized she was wearing a different dress. She wondered if it was another one of Esmeralda’s, taken from her pack hurriedly as they rushed out of Purgatory Chasm. She tried not to think too much of the sound Esmeralda’s body had made when Carrick kept dropping her as he tried to make his way up the rope. She saw Rowan mount his horse carefully.
Why aren’t I riding with you, Rowan?
You’re still blazing hot.
Lily noticed that his right hand was bandaged, and she could see the outline of more bandages under his shirt. Her chest shrank with guilt. She let Rowan feel how terrible she felt.
Are you very badly burned?
I’ll be fine.
That’s not what I asked.
He looked over at her, and his eyes softened when he smiled at her, but he avoided answering her in mindspeak where he couldn’t lie to ease her guilt.
The snow hissed when it hit Lily’s skin. As they rode, she leaned her head back, resting it on Tristan’s shoulder so she could catch as many flakes on her face as possible. She could sense how tense they were. Rowan’s eyes constantly scanned the trees above them. Tristan stiffened at every noise from the forest. Lily tried to use mindspeak to ask what was wrong, but her head hurt too much.
“What is it?” Lily croaked. “Are there soldiers out there?”
“No. Woven nest,” Tristan whispered. His breath was tight in his chest. “Shh.”
They managed to slip by the nest, and at some point as they made their way as quietly as they could through the forest, Lily fell asleep. When she woke again, she was riding with Caleb.
“We’re nearly there,” he whispered in her ear. He wiped sweat from his forehead. “Which is good because I think my horse has heatstroke.”
“Poor horse,” Lily muttered. She wanted to joke with Caleb, wanted to make him laugh and ease his fear, but she didn’t have the energy.
When they entered the sachem’s camp, Lily’s head was nodding, and her eyes opening and closing on their own. She heard voices and saw row after row of the Outlanders’ armored caravan carts and faces—lots of faces looking up at her anxiously as she and Caleb rode past. Something didn’t feel right. There was something she was supposed to remember about Alaric and his tribe, but she couldn’t.
“It’s okay, Lily,” Rowan said soothingly. “You’re safe here. I swear it.”
Lily felt her arms being restrained. She felt her legs being held down as she was lowered onto a cool bed. She saw Rowan’s eyes over hers and tasted something bitter in her mouth. She tried to spit it out but found that she couldn’t. She decided that it would take less energy to swallow Rowan’s nasty brew than reject it, so she did. She tried to tell him in mindspeak that she didn’t like the taste, but her head hurt.
Lily opened her eyes, but it was so dark she might as well have kept them shut. She was back in the oubliette. Maybe she’d never left. Fear stiffened her spine, and she sat up, clutching at her neck.
“Lily, what is it?” Rowan said into the dark. She grabbed at her necklace, feeling all three of her willstones but not fully believing they were there. She felt Rowan’s hands on her shoulders.
“Did he catch you, too?” she asked thickly. “How did he catch you?”
Rowan’s willstone glowed with magelight, revealing his worried face. Lily looked around and saw that they were in a tent. Tristan and Caleb were with them, and just starting to stir.
“No one caught us. You’re safe, Lily,” he said, easing her back down onto her sleeping bag.
“Safe,” she whispered, and wondered if she would ever really feel safe again. “It didn’t kill me. But I’m definitely not stronger.”