Trial by Fire (39 page)

Oh God. He’s really going to kill me this time.

“Enough! You’re scaring her!” Tristan yelled. He pushed Carrick aside.

“Tristan,” Lily gasped. She reached out her arms to him, her best friend. A big man came and helped Tristan pull Carrick off of her.

“He comes down every day,” she continued through hiccups, scrambling hysterically to get away from her tormentor. “He’s been hurting me. He’s been—” Lily couldn’t find the right words to describe what Carrick did to her. She thought it instead and saw Tristan recoil for a moment before he pulled her close to him.

“Caleb, she thinks he’s Carrick. Get him out of here,” Tristan ordered.

Carrick looked sad. He went sort of limp, and Caleb didn’t have any trouble dragging him away through the snow. The last thought Lily had was that Carrick was wet and nearly naked. He might freeze to death if she was lucky.

Lily felt Tristan’s arm, heavy and smooth, draped over her shoulder. They were lying on their sides and he was tucked against her back.

She’d woken up with Tristan holding her like this before, but now instead of sheets, pillows, and white curtains dancing on the breeze, Lily saw only dry leaves and dirt.

Her arm reached out to hold the hand of another boy. Caleb lay across from her, his giant hand swallowing her wrist and his boulder-like shoulder rising and falling with his gusty breaths. The ground under them was seared and brown. The air radiated up from their little circle, wavering with heat like a mirage. Lily’s heat.

She edged out from under Tristan’s encircling arm and sat up. The ring of heat Lily had created was edged with ice and snow. She looked up and saw snow hissing into steam above her as if it were hitting an invisible dome that vaporized it.

Lily tried to move her leg. Her ankle was being held. She looked down and saw Rowan sitting up, guarding them while they slept.

“I’m not Carrick,” he whispered.

A flood of images from the night before rolled over Lily from Rowan’s perspective. How she’d screamed and scratched him. How she’d shied away from his hands and cried. How he’d burned and froze, burned and froze, over and over to keep her alive.

Lily reached for him and pulled him into the circle of heat. Tristan and Caleb rolled over and complained wordlessly through the gooey glue of sleep. Rowan’s hand was cold. She held it close to her chest and tried to forget everything that they and their doppelgängers had done to each other. A nagging thought pestered her mind as it trudged back toward unconsciousness.

Something troubling about Alaric.

It was still snowing at dawn when Lily awoke. The guys were up and clustered around the cauldron, talking quietly. She wanted to get up and join them, but she couldn’t. Lily could barely lift her head.

“She’s awake,” Rowan said, ending their conversation. He looked over at her.

Who am I?

You’re Rowan.

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’d needed him, but she’d been too late to help him. Much too late.

“I’m not dead yet, Tristan,” she said roughly though 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 heat stroke.”

“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.”

“You will be,” Rowan promised. “You’ll heal if you let us help you.”

I’m not talking about my body, Rowan.

Neither am I, Lily.

Juliet tugged at the collar of her dress. She’d never minded the elaborate gowns or the intricate piles of braids and curls on top of her head before, but lately everything about her position as Lillian’s sister seemed to squeeze her too tightly or weigh too heavily on her head. She swirled her ribs over her hips to loosen her lower back and folded her hands neatly in her lap, waiting patiently as she’d always done.

“Let the prisoners come forth,” cried the bailiff.

The courtroom was packed with Coven, Council, citizens, and Outlanders, and all turned as one to see the doors of the dungeon open. Sibilant hisses and low murmurs rose up from the mixed crowd. Hakan, Keme, and Chenoa emerged, blinking at the bright light of noon after days spent underground.

Thomas Danforth rose from his seat at Lillian’s left and waited for the accused to take their places in front of the jury. From her front row seat in the audience, Juliet noticed that the jury was made up entirely of citizens. Outlanders were held accountable to the laws of the Thirteen Cities—they could be tried and hanged like anyone else—but as noncitizens they had no say in shaping the laws that took their lives. They didn’t even have representation to speak on their behalf during a trial. Instead, they were forced to make do with defending themselves, even if they were unfamiliar with the laws of the cities. This had always seemed perfectly natural to Juliet before, and for that she was now ashamed.

“Hakan, Keme, and Chenoa. You are charged with practicing science,” Danforth said in a sonorous voice. “How do you plead?”

“Is there any point in pleading with you?” Hakan retorted. “You’ve already made up your minds to hang us.”

A surge of murmurs came from the courtroom. Lillian raised a hand and all fell silent again. “If you denounce science as evil and give us the names of other scientists, we may show leniency,” she said.

“Evil?” Chenoa said, shaking her head. “Science is a tool, like witchcraft. It’s people that are evil. But you know that better than any of us, don’t you?”

The court erupted with noise, mostly hisses and boos, but the few Outlanders that dared to watch from the back cheered Chenoa. Lillian leapt to her feet and strode toward the scientist, her body rigid with rage. The room went silent with shock. The Lady of Salem had presided over many trials like this, but never once had she shown her anger in public before. Not even when she’d hanged River Fall and many had shouted every dirty name in the book at her. Chenoa was different somehow. Juliet knew that Chenoa was the linchpin for all of her sister’s fears; she just didn’t know why.

“Evil is as evil does, and your brand of science is the
most
evil because it causes the most harm,” Lillian said, finally controlling herself.

“Is it evil to try to bring cheap, bountiful energy to your people?” Chenoa countered calmly. “We Outlanders don’t have witches to light our lamps for us. We must find another way.”

“An evil, impure way,” Lillian corrected. “Isn’t it true that elemental energy creates a dirty byproduct that is dangerous to all living things for thousands of years?”

Chenoa nodded her head stiffly. “It does.”

“And that it is very unstable? That even in your small experiments it often runs out of control and creates major damage?” Lillian pressed, her eyes gleaming.

“Yes. But we’re working on making it safer.”

“Safer. But not safe. Not entirely,” Lillian said leadingly. Chenoa didn’t answer. Lillian relaxed, leaning back and looking down on her adversary with triumph. “And, isn’t it true that elemental energy could be used in warfare to make an explosion so great that all of Salem could be obliterated in a fraction of a second?”

Nervous whispering rose up from the crowd. Chenoa narrowed her eyes at Lillian. “How could you know that? I’ve never told anyone that. Not even them,” Chenoa said, gesturing to Hakan and Keme, both of whom looked genuinely shocked.

“It doesn’t matter how I know it,” Lillian said sadly. “All that matters is that I know it’s inevitable if we start down this path. You know it too, don’t you?”

Chenoa’s shoulders stiffened. “Not all of us are out to destroy the world, Lady.”

“All it takes is one,” Lillian said. Her sad expression suddenly changed to pleading. “Which is why it’s so important you tell me who else knows about your work with elemental energy. Please, Chenoa. Turn away from this madness. Give me a name.”

Chenoa looked at Hakan. He gave her a brave smile of solidarity. Then she looked at Keme. He was scared. He looked so young and fragile, but even still he shook his head at Chenoa, telling her no. They were all ready to die.

“Juliet Proctor!”

Juliet stood on shaky legs and met her little sister’s stunned eyes. She was aware that people were shouting and trying to get her to sit down and shut up, but she shook them off. She’d been silent long enough.

“You want a name? I just gave you one,” Juliet said, coming forward and taking a stand in between Lillian and the three condemned scientists. “
Juliet Proctor.
If you’re going to hang them, you’ll have to hang me first, Lillian.”

Lily woke up—really woke up for the first time since coming to this world.

She spent a long time staring at the tent over her, piecing together what Lillian had said when she was dying on the edge of the Charles River. She wanted to believe that Lillian had found a way to lie in mindspeak, but no matter how Lily turned the story over in her mind, it all added up to the same thing.

Lily was as stiff and sore as if she’d been kicked down a flight of steps. And for once, she was actually chilly. She staggered up off her sleeping bag on unsteady feet and managed to make her way to the basin in the corner. She sat down on the only piece of real furniture in the tent and peered into the mirror at her gaunt face. The angry red of the fever was gone. She looked pale. And sad.