Witch's Pyre Read online

  It seemed like every memory of Lillian’s had Rowan in it. Lily was beginning to wonder whether there was any part of Lillian’s life that didn’t include him. At least, any part she cared to remember.

  Lily, are you okay? It was Juliet. Lily looked at her and shook her head.

  I feel like I’m losing it. What are we doing here, Jules?

  Juliet shook her head and shrugged, wearing a helpless grin. As Lily smiled back she realized that she’d called this Juliet Jules—that was the nickname she had only ever used for her actual sister. She didn’t regret it, though, or wish she could take it back. It comforted her too much.

  Toshi brought the coven across the atrium and to another wing of Grace’s enormous mansion, where the ball was already in progress.

  A slim Indian woman in her mid-twenties met them before they could slip in through one of the sets of French doors that opened into the atrium from the ballroom.

  “Toshi. Grace is waiting,” she said. Her voice was tight and her sharp smile didn’t make it up to her eyes. She wore a smoke-colored willstone. It wasn’t as dark or as large as Grace’s, but it was still impressive. Lily belatedly recognized her as one of the attendants who came with Grace and Toshi to the field of flowers earlier that day.

  “We’ve met, but we haven’t been introduced,” Lily said, putting herself forward. The woman recoiled slightly, as if Lily were some blundering hick.

  “I’m sorry,” Toshi apologized, making it seem as if the breach in etiquette was his fault. “Lily Proctor, this is Mala Nehru—Lieutenant Governor of Bower City.”

  “You look much better,” Mala said, her lips smiling but her eyes narrowed.

  “Feeling great,” Lily said. Her return smile was made through gritted teeth.

  “Good. All these people are here to see you, after all. We wouldn’t want you to be feeling poorly.” Mala stepped uncomfortably close. Lily felt her mechanics stiffen and silently told them to keep back. For a moment she thought Mala was going to try to uncover the other two willstones she’d hidden inside her obi, but instead Mala untied the outer sash and retied it while she spoke. “You knot once, twist—like this—and then tuck the edges.”

  “Thank you,” Lily said, meeting and holding Mala’s eyes. They were standing close enough to kiss. Lily didn’t back away.

  “Anything I can do to help,” Mala answered before turning and leading them into the ballroom.

  That was creepy, Breakfast said to the coven in mindspeak. Do we have to follow her?

  The coven laughed under their breath to relieve some of the tension. Toshi watched their changing demeanor like a kid pressed against a candy shop window.

  She’s just trying to throw you off balance, Juliet said to Lily in mindspeak. It’s such an obvious power play it makes her look weak.

  Juliet had a knowing smirk on her face as her eyes followed Mala into the ballroom. This Juliet, the one who’d been raised alongside Lillian, knew how to navigate a nest of vipers.

  Keep telling me things like that, Lily replied, and stepped between the billowing curtains that framed the French doors.

  Inside, the chandeliers overhead filled the room with a bubbly golden light, as if the air had been infused with champagne. Gilded walls and sparkling glass doors bounced that light around until it fell in soft focus upon the jewel-like people. The style of dress seemed to favor kimonos, but there were also some saris and a few dresses that appeared to be from the Georgian era in England. Some of the men and women wore war paint, but it was placed to please rather than intimidate. Everyone looked slim, healthy, and relatively young.

  Flowers exploded from vases. Flowers were pinned up in ladies’ hair. Flowers decorated the buttonholes of men’s jackets. Flowers adorned every table, and Lily knew that in some of those flowers a Worker was picking its way through the petals on needle-like toes.

  As Lily entered the ballroom, heads turned. Drinks were halted halfway to mouths. Eyes stared, unblinking. Lily resisted the urge to look at the floor, and instead met some of the stares. No one held her gaze or tried to engage her attention.

  If they’re all here to meet me, she asked Juliet, why are they avoiding me?

  They’re here to see you, not meet you.

  I feel like an idiot.

  Keep your chin up, Juliet encouraged. Lily felt her sister briefly squeeze her hand before letting it go.

  Mala melted into the crowd, abandoning Lily without making one introduction. As jostling bodies swallowed Mala’s lithe figure, a man’s thick shoulders replaced hers. He was making his way toward them, lifting a hand to hail them. He was tall, well over six feet, and he had thinning blond hair and blue eyes that reminded Lily of sky rather than ice. His features were thick, his cheeks were ruddy, and his chin was dimpled by a deep cleft. Physically, he looked about thirty, but he might have been nearer to fifty for all the cares he seemed to carry. Around his neck he wore the largest golden willstone Lily had ever seen.

  For kitchen magic—simple but tiring stuff to make, like cleansing mists and water purifiers. Useful guy, Lily thought, and wondered whether Lillian was listening. She could feel Lillian in the back of her head, but she wasn’t actively engaged. Lily could sense that Lillian was occupied with something that was taking her whole attention again.

  “Ah, Toshi,” he said, approaching them with a distracted look. He pulled Toshi aside to tell him something in private and then turned his attention to Lily’s coven. “So, we’re all here, then?” he said, smiling broadly.

  He looks like a retired boxer, Breakfast whispered in Lily’s mind. His description was so dead-on that Lily had to stifle a snicker.

  “Good to see you again,” Juliet said, recognizing him as the final member of the trio of attendants that came with Grace to welcome them into the city.

  “And you,” he said. “You were all a bit too tired for introductions when we first met. I’m Ivan Volkov. Head Mechanic of Bower City.”

  Lily’s coven greeted the Head Mechanic. She noticed Ivan marking Caleb’s golden willstone, and the two of them sharing an exchange of understanding. Golden stones weren’t given as much glory as smoke or rose stones, and because of that their bearers tended to be overlooked. Ivan’s position as Head Mechanic was exceptional—something that Lily couldn’t imagine happening back east.

  “I’m sure we’ll speak more later,” Ivan said with an apologetic smile. He was a busy man, apparently, and left them, saying, “Ah, Simon,” in the same tone he’d used to greet Toshi.

  “That’s Ivan,” Toshi said, smiling after him warmly. They continued on toward the far side of the room.

  “You’re fond of him,” Lily remarked.

  “He’s my mentor. Not that Ivan picks favorites,” he amended quickly. “That’s why we all respect him so much. He gives each of us an equal chance to advance.”

  “He’s from Russia?” Una guessed.

  “His family was, like my family was from Japan. But it’s been so long since the Hive has allowed anyone new to immigrate to the city no one here is really from anyplace else anymore.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Why do you think we’re throwing you this party?”

  “You know, I’m not really sure.” Lily looked up at Toshi, testing him. She spread her hands to indicate the glittering room. “It’s a bit much.”

  “Being chosen is a big deal,” he assured her. “It hasn’t happened in almost twenty years. If you’re here, it’s for a reason.”

  “So the Hive kidnaps people and flies them to a strange city to fulfill some kind of purpose?” Caleb asked. “What could a bunch of insects want from humans?”

  Toshi turned to him, his face taut. “The Hive selects people. And all it wants is a well-run society.”

  “Oh, great,” Breakfast said wryly. “Because perfect societies never have a downside.”

  Toshi laughed, dispelling the tension. “No one ever claimed Bower City was perfect,” he said. “But it is well run.”

  They arrived at a large table, where Gr
ace was half listening to Mala say something in her ear. Grace saw Lily arrive and stood before Mala had finished.

  “Lily. Thank you for coming,” she said, looking pleased. She was wearing a buckskin suede dress decorated with turquoise beads and an impressive feathered headdress. Tribal paint streaked her face and dotted her shoulders and thick silver bracelets were clipped over her wrists like gauntlets.

  Lily didn’t have a response, so she just smiled. Grace invited Lily to sit next to her. Mala was obliged to move down a chair, which she did with pursed lips. Toshi and the rest of Lily’s coven seated themselves around the table. Ivan circled back to place his drink down between Tristan and Caleb before he darted off again. Once everyone had claimed a seat, there was still an extra place setting.

  “Did you enjoy your visit to the docks?” Grace asked.

  Lily pulled her gaze away from the empty seat. “Some of us more than others,” she replied.

  “Oh? Was there a problem?” Grace directed her question at Toshi.

  “Just culture shock,” Toshi assured her.

  “Yes,” Grace said. “I suppose it would be hard to take in, wouldn’t it?” Caleb made a disgusted sound. “Speak your mind,” Grace urged. “You didn’t like it?”

  “Oh, the ships, the trade, that’s all great,” Caleb said, a knife-edge gleam in his eyes. “For you.”

  “Go on,” Grace said, knowing there was more.

  “You’re wearing a sachem’s headdress, but you’ve left your people to die.”

  “Bower City is where my people are,” Grace replied gently. Caleb shook his head, rejecting her answer.

  “You could send out scouts right now and tell the Outlanders that there are no Woven in the west,” he persisted. “They don’t need your charity if you’re worried about refugees, and they wouldn’t have to come here to the city. They could build one of their own. There’s plenty of room.”

  “Okay, say I do send out scouts,” Grace said hypothetically. “For those who manage to get past the Pride and the Pack, what happens to the ones the Hive doesn’t accept?”

  “Thousands would die,” Mala answered, on cue.

  “Thousands are dying,” Caleb shot back.

  Mala opened her mouth to say something, but Grace raised a hand to silence her. “Caleb, do you know what the Hive wants? What guides its choices? Or why it kills some and accepts others?” she asked. Grace leaned in, holding his eyes. “What if the Hive decides it’s done accepting people altogether and it kills everyone who tries to make the crossing? I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of whole tribes being wiped out.”

  Caleb looked away.

  “So we can’t tell anyone,” Tristan said. He raised an eyebrow. “And I’m sure if we promise not to say anything, you’ll let us leave and go back home.”

  “Go north, go south—there isn’t anything out there, but you’re welcome to look,” Grace said. “I’m afraid the Hive will stop you if you try to go east, though.”

  “Why? What do they care which way we go?” Lily asked, her frustration evident. Again, she found herself encountering a strange “rule” that the Woven followed for no apparent reason. No one hazarded an answer.

  “I’m sorry to be the one tell you this, but the Hive won’t let you go east,” Grace said. “You’re welcome to stay here, at least.”

  White-gloved porters filled all the water glasses. Lily stared at the one waiting in front of the empty chair, sitting there like an unanswered question.

  “What’s the rest of the world like?” Juliet asked, breaking the long silence. “Are there witches and mechanics in other countries?”

  “Not like here,” Grace said. “There are people with talent all over the world, but they lack the means to harness it.”

  “Harness?” Juliet repeated vaguely, and then understanding dawned on her. “Willstones. You’ve kept the secret.”

  “We have,” Grace said.

  “In our history books back east it says that before the Woven Outbreak—which threw everything into chaos—the process for growing willstones was the most carefully guarded secret that the covens had,” Juliet said, as if to edify the westerners about eastern ways, but really it was to catch Una, Breakfast, and Lily up on the history of this world before they misspoke. “Even still, growing willstones is the last thing that only the most advanced mechanics learn in their training.”

  “We do things differently here,” Ivan said delicately.

  “Only the Bower Witch and two mechanics are trusted with the formula at any given time,” Mala continued for him.

  “When either the Head Mechanic or his second dies, another is supposed to be chosen immediately so that the formula isn’t lost,” Toshi said, finishing the explanation. He looked at Ivan, and many chapters of their story together passed silently between them.

  “So, only three people grow willstones for everyone in Bower City?” Una asked.

  “The mechanics handle the growing, and they only do that for people who have talent,” Mala corrected. “We don’t give willstones to just anyone, like you do in the east.”

  “I’m guessing you also don’t give willstones to people in other countries,” Lily said.

  “Not unless they’re selected for immigration and come to live in Bower City,” Grace replied.

  “But crucibles and mechanics in other countries can’t get willstones from the east because it’s closed,” Breakfast said, confused.

  “Which means Bower City has a monopoly on magic itself and all the medicines, products, and power that you can create with it,” Juliet said, leaning back in her chair. She shot Grace one of her disappointed looks that Lily knew too well, pursing her lips and gently shaking her head.

  “All over the world,” Tristan muttered, impressed. “They have to come to you. No wonder your docks are so busy.”

  Grace tipped her head in assent. She could see that the easterners disapproved. “Greece kept the secret for Greek fire so well the knowledge of its making went extinct with their culture. China managed to keep the secret of making silk from the rest of the world for hundreds of years,” she said unapologetically. “Bower City keeps the secret of willstones.”

  “And you’ve profited from it greatly,” Juliet said, her frown deepening.

  “Yes. Our city is rich and our people want for nothing,” Grace said. “Tell me, on your trip down to the docks, or earlier when you came through the Forum, did you see any slums? Or people begging on the street?”

  “No. Because you don’t have anything like that in Bower City, do you, Grace?” Lily said.

  “We don’t,” she replied, smiling. “Isn’t it incredible? We’ve eradicated poverty.”

  Caleb made the same disgusted sound he’d made at the beginning of the conversation. “For you,” he said again.

  Lily thought of all the crucibles and mechanics around the world whose talent had been stunted because the Hive hadn’t selected them for immigration. She remembered her life before she came to this world—the migraines, the fevers, and the seizures that nearly killed her. She pushed her chair back from the table with a scraping sound.

  “You know what? I don’t think I’m hungry,” she said.

  “I’d really like for you to stay,” Grace said. “There’s someone else about to join us.”

  Lily stood, ignoring the shocked faces of her coven and how their eyes kept darting over her shoulder. “Really. I think I’m done here.”

  “Lily,” said a voice behind her.

  It was a low voice. A voice she hadn’t heard in months, but that she thought she heard at the edge of sleep nearly every night. Lily forced herself to turn and face him slowly.

  “Rowan.”

  Lily didn’t feel the chair under her, but she did feel her spine jolt as she landed on it. Tristan, Caleb, and Una stood up as Lily sank, their shock quickly turning to anger. Silly questions, like “How’d you get here?” were asked, and needless statements like “We left you with Alaric” were made.

 
Obviously, the Hive selected him and brought him to Bower City, she said to Lillian. And, He must not have stayed with Alaric. He must have been following us the whole time. For months. He followed us right into Hive territory and the Hive took him like they took us.

  Either Caleb or Tristan wanted to hit him. Maybe it was both of them, but Lily couldn’t tell because she could feel that both of them also wanted to embrace him as well. Voices were raised. A pinprick of annoyed heat grew into a dime-size dot that throbbed behind her left eye. Tempers flared higher. Soon her entire head was hot and buzzing until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “Enough,” Lily said.

  She’d barely whispered it, but a ripple of energy had traveled out of her with the single word, like a stone dropped into a pond. Her claimed gripped at their heads as if a piercing noise was deafening them. Every person in the ballroom was buffeted away from Lily, knocked back with the surge. Glass tinkled as it broke.

  Dark streaks fell to the ground outside. The frames of the now-shattered glass doors burst open, and Warrior Sisters scudded in on their long ostrich-like legs. Their exo-armor glinted black over their tiger-striped skin, and their whips quivered in their human hands.

  Lily’s witch wind moaned as it raced to her. Her mechanics drew in a united breath at the precipice of the Gift. She felt Rowan’s mind click into place inside hers, diamond bright and strong. Need almost overwhelmed her.

  “Lily, don’t!” Toshi called out, rushing to her side. A swarm of Workers flew in around their Sisters, blackening the air like a flurry of soot. “They’re reacting to your aggression. You have to stop!”

  Lily felt her coven pulling at her, all of them ready to receive her power. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Grace’s scowling face and the words “warmonger witch” ran through her head.

  She pulled back, releasing her mechanics, and hoped it wasn’t too late. She felt a jumble of mindspeak hit her at once as they argued with her.

  What are you doing?

  We’re defenseless . . .

  They’re going to attack.