“Lillian. I’m your oldest friend,” he pleaded. He felt his breath catch in his throat and let it happen, in case crying might convince her. “I stayed with you when Rowan and Tristan left.”
“Only to plot against me,” she said with mock consolation for his gathering tears.
“Only because you shut me out,” he countered accusingly. “I would have been your ally, but what else was I supposed to do when you wouldn’t even pretend I was wanted?”
“Gideon? I know you’re not really hurt, nor are you my ally, so let’s skip the act. You can either go out there, receive the Gift, and revel in the battle with the rest of my army, or I can possess you and work you like a puppet.”
Gideon opened his mouth to protest, and Lillian shut it for him with a painful snap. He tasted blood in his mouth. She’d made him bite off the tip of his tongue. Lillian strode toward him, her nearly black smoke-colored willstone now pulsing with an eerie blue light and her green eyes narrowing to slits as her anger rose up inside of her like a steep wave.
“And I promise you, if you defy me, you won’t even be able to lift your arms to defend yourself when they come to cut you down. This is the only choice you’ve ever had. I’m not going to work with you, Gideon. You work when I tell you to. Now,” she said, the wave of anger ebbing out of her. She eased away from him, and her livid face drained, leaving it white and smooth again. Gideon bent forward, spitting out a mouthful of blood and the tip of his own tongue. “I think it would be wise for you to arm yourself with your shiniest weapons and your flashiest uniform because you, my oldest friend, are about to die a glorious death.”
* * *
Juliet let go of Dana’s neck as soon as they reached the Outlander camp. With barely a backward glance, Dana ran off to find her son. Having no place to go, Juliet spun around and looked up at the walls of Salem. She knew this wasn’t over. Lillian would send out her army. Juliet glanced around at the Outlander camp. There were tens of thousands of people here. There was no way they’d be able to break camp and get away from Lillian’s army in time.
Beyond the borders of the camp, Juliet saw branches moving violently and heard the synchronized shouts of the perimeter guards as they repelled a Woven attack. Even if they tried to get some of the women and children out before the battle, trying to run through the woods at night would be suicide. The Outlanders had to stand and fight—all of them—or they’d die.
“Lady Juliet,” a deep voice called. Juliet snapped herself out of her morbid thoughts and peered into the half dark. She saw a man, flanked by warriors, coming toward her. He wasn’t exceptionally tall or large, but there was something about the set of his shoulders that marked him as the leader. As he got close, she noticed that he had a limp.
“Alaric,” Juliet said, and then corrected herself. “Sachem,” she said, tilting her head down in a respectful nod. Her knees were shaking. Juliet had spent most of her teen years terrified of Alaric Windrider and his tribe of painted savages.
“I heard what you did for my people in the courtroom,” he said. “I thank you and welcome you to my camp.”
Juliet hadn’t expected him to be so polite. She looked up at him, wondering how old he was. His hair was salted with gray at the temples, but up close he didn’t look much older than thirty. He was handsome. None of the stories about him had mentioned that, although they seemed to mention everything else, including what had happened to him to make him the most feared leader of the Outlander tribes.
The story, legend now, said that ten years ago his wife and infant girl died during a brutal snowstorm. The young family had been right outside the Salem gate, but because they were Outlanders, the guards wouldn’t let them in after dark. With the Woven in the woods behind them, and implacable guards on the wall above, he had to watch as his wife and child froze to death in his arms. The story went that he got his limp that night trying to kick down the Salem gate in a blind rage.
Juliet didn’t know if any of this were true, but she did know that after that night, Alaric went wild. He built an army to topple the Thirteen Cities, and five years ago when Lillian had grown strong enough to replace Olga, the old, dying Salem Witch, he vowed to destroy Lillian’s Coven himself. He killed guards, raided the underground train lines that linked the cities, and started demanding that Outlanders had the right to own property and govern themselves. Many felt as he did, and thousands of warriors from dozens of different tribes pledged themselves to him. When Lillian outlawed science, he’d grown even more powerful, as citizens and Outlanders alike flocked to him for protection.
Alaric hadn’t been born a sachem. He became one by strength of will alone. And all to avenge his lost wife and child. Juliet had often wondered what drove a man like that—what fueled so much fire. She used to think it had to be hatred, but she wasn’t so sure anymore. The look on his face as he stared down at her was almost gentle.
Juliet shook herself, realizing that she and Alaric had been standing there staring at each other for ages. Even the disciplined warriors in his personal entourage were starting to look uncomfortable. Juliet blushed and quickly dropped her eyes.
“I-I just did the only right thing left for me to do,” she stammered, mortified. “Not that it did any good. This isn’t over, Sachem. Lillian will go to the pyre for this.”
“How do you know? Can you hear her thoughts?” Alaric asked. His eyes narrowed. “Can she hear yours?”
“No. Lillian shut me out a year ago,” Juliet replied, shaking her head emphatically. “There’s something in her mind she doesn’t want me to see, and she’s willing to never share thoughts with me again to keep it from me.” Juliet smiled at Alaric ruefully. “And I know when she’s trying to spy on me by sneaking into my thoughts, so don’t be afraid of her stealing any of your plans through me. Remember, she was my nosy little sister long before she was the Salem Witch. Which is why I know she’ll attack.”
“I don’t doubt you,” he said, almost like he was surprised he was saying it. Alaric suddenly lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck in agitation. “But you can still hear Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We have to get her and the scientists to safety.”
* * *
Lily and Rowan hurried through the camp, feeling their way toward Caleb and Tristan. Cheers followed them wherever they went. Lily felt the success of their mission buoying the Outlanders as they prepared for battle. A few Outlanders even came up to Rowan to shake his hand.
“Now that they’ve got to come out from behind the walls, we can win this!” one man shouted enthusiastically as he thumped Rowan on the back. The crowd took up a rallying cry, all of them eager to fight.
Lily glanced over at Rowan as he broke off and led her away. His smile faded fast and a grim look descended on his face.
What is it, Rowan?
They’re deluding themselves. We can’t win, Lily.
Why not?