Rowan (Worldwalker 1.50)

“It’s too weird,” she said, still trying to shy away.

His eyes darted up and met hers. Lily saw fire in them—actual flames licking around his irises.

“Holymarymotherofgod, your eyes are on fire!” Lily blathered.

Since she’d been brought to this alternate Salem, she’d seen necklaces glow and huge doors swish open automatically, but this was the first time she’d seen anything that was flat-out impossible. Lily had never believed in magic, not even when she’d first found herself transported to this alternate universe, but she believed in it now. Like it or not, she’d just felt magic in her bones.

The fire in Rowan’s eyes went out, and the gentle pressure of his fingers suddenly hurt. He released her immediately, almost as if he could sense that he was hurting her, and scooted away.

“You’re not Lillian,” Rowan said roughly.

“No, I’m really not,” Lily replied, taking the opportunity to scoot away from him, too.

They stared at each other, both regarding the other fearfully.

“She did it,” Rowan said, breathless. His eyes left Lily’s and he stared blankly at the ground. “How?” His eyes darted back up to Lily’s and rested there for a moment.

He fell silent until Tristan returned, he and Lily staring at each other skeptically.

“What’s going on?” Tristan asked. He dropped a pack on the ground between them, ending the staring contest. “Lily? Are you okay?”

“It’s not that,” she replied. She motioned to Rowan with her chin. “He believes me now, and it’s freaking him out.”

Tristan turned to Rowan and shrugged. “I tried to tell you.”

“Yeah, I know you did,” Rowan replied, with a look that said Tristan didn’t need to rub it in. “Let’s get to work.”

He started rummaging through the pack Tristan had brought and pulled out a few small lumps of brightly colored stone and a few handfuls of leaves, flowers, and something that looked like a gnarled bit of beef jerky. Lily had studied enough chemistry and botany to know that the yellow lump of rock had to be the phosphorus; the white one chalk; and the red iron. The flowers she wasn’t too sure about, but she thought they might be arnica. She knew arnica was a homeopathic remedy for swelling and muscle cramps, and she recognized the simple white flower from the picture on a tube of gel she used in the hospital whenever she ached from lying in bed too long.

“I’m going to have her do it,” Rowan said to Tristan as he unpacked a small pot and a mortar and pestle.

“She has no idea how,” Tristan replied.

“I’ll guide her.” Tristan started to object, but Rowan cut him off. “She resisted me when I was prepping her, and she’ll only fight me harder the deeper I go. If I try to do it, she might block me entirely, and it won’t heal at all.”

Tristan stared at Lily for a moment, his eyes narrowed with concern. “She doesn’t even have a willstone.”

“She doesn’t need one,” Rowan replied confidently. “All she needs is for me to point the way.”

“It’s never been done.”

“But it’s still going to work.”

Rowan and Tristan stared at each other, long and hard. Lily got the strange sense that they were still speaking to each other, even if she couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Without another word, Tristan turned and started scraping off tiny bits of the phosphorus, iron, and chalk. He began grinding them down to dust with the mortar and pestle while Rowan plucked bits of the herbs and put them in a small pot of water he’d set to boil on the edge of the fire. Their actions were quick and precise, as if they had been trained to do this. After a few moments of orchestrated movement, Rowan held out his hand to Tristan, who poured the ground minerals into his palm, like a nurse handing a surgeon a scalpel.

“Here. Inhale this,” Rowan said, holding his hand under Lily’s nose.

“What’s it for?” she asked, already inhaling. Rowan gave her a quizzical look.

“You’re just going to inhale it without waiting for an answer?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. Lily squinted back at him. His face had started to blur.

“Please don’t tell me I’m going to pass out again,” she pleaded.

“Focus,” Rowan said. He brushed his hands together in the direction of the fire, sending the leftover particles into the flames. The fire shot up, changing color as it burned the phosphorus, calcium, and iron. Lily’s vision cleared.

She had no idea what Rowan wanted her to focus on, so she just stared at him and Tristan. The two of them sat cross-legged next to the fire, waiting. Rowan stared at the little pot of water, absentmindedly touching his willstone with the tip of his middle finger. The pot boiled, and he wrapped his hand in the sleeve of his jacket to remove it from the flame. He turned to Lily.