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“I ruined it.” He grimaced. “With who? Someone special?”
“No.” Lily felt sad all of a sudden. Now that she wasn’t angry, she felt the hurt much more deeply. She cleared the thickness from her throat and continued. “You don’t even like her.”
Tristan nodded, like that made sense to him somehow. “Sounds like I ruined things between us on purpose.”
“Yeah,” Lily mused, surprised that he was so perceptive. This Tristan seemed older than hers, somehow. Wiser. “You didn’t decide to hurt me, but I do think you did it on purpose to get away from me.”
“And what about the Rowan in your Salem?” he asked in a subdued tone. “What does he think about you and me?”
Lily shrugged. “There is no Rowan in my Salem.”
“Oh,” Tristan said, almost as if he were disappointed. “That explains it then.” Before Lily could ask him what he meant by that, he continued. “So. In your world, I’m an idiot.”
Lily laughed and nodded. “Yes, you are,” she said, not unkindly.
The firelight, and the harsh shadows it cast, seemed to cut Tristan’s face into confusing halves. But even in the unforgiving light, Lily saw a drowned spark rising up out of the well of shyness in him.
“You really aren’t her,” Tristan said, his voice full of awe. “You’re not Lillian.”
“No. I’m not her.”
He stared at her, the silence stretching out between them.
Tristan’s head suddenly pricked up in alarm. Lily heard whipping sounds surrounding them. It took her a moment to identify the noise as bodies running through the brush. Eerie howls filled the air. Lily tried to jump up to her feet but hit the roof of her low, domelike prison. Wrenching at the rune-engraved bonds holding her wrists together, Lily looked around for Tristan.
He was already up by the fire and digging into the dirt with a spade. He threw the earth onto the flames, smothering the smoke in a few quick shovelfuls. Instantly, their little camp, a distant satellite of the main group, was plunged into darkness. Peering through the bushy conifers, Lily could see motion and hear shouts from the main settlement. A desperate fight was taking place. Flashes of light and shadow blinked in the distance as fast-moving shapes struggled around the campfires. She could hear strange yips and growls blending with the screams of men and women.
“What’s out there?” Lily whispered into the dark, thinking of the monsters at the bottom of the green tower.
“The Woven,” Tristan whispered back, his face pale with fear. He shucked off his jacket and pulled something out from behind his back. “Hold up your hands.” Tristan cut the leather bindings with one flick of his blade. He pulled off his dark shirt and threw it at her.
“Your hair is too bright, and they’re attracted to bright colors. Cover it completely. If something happens to me, stay down and hide your face as best as you can. Play dead, and they might not try to get at you through the cage.”
Lily
nodded numbly, too frightened by the look on Tristan’s face to ask questions, and started wrapping up her hair with his shirt. Tristan circled around to the other side of her cage, facing out toward the dark forest, and stood firm. He was guarding her, Lily realized.
The distant shrieks and howls piercing through the darkness pinned Lily down with fear. Tristan paced around her cage, obviously anxious to join the battle, but his orders to guard Lily kept him at his post. They both watched, helpless, as the screams turned to groans and the frenetic flashes of light from the fires died down. It was impossible to guess which side had won.
A long silence followed the burst of noise and motion of the raid. Lily strained her senses into the darkness. Something moved out there.
Tristan changed position, facing the sound of approaching footsteps, and crouched down into a braced stance. The underbrush shook. Lily saw Tristan’s bare back striate with tensed muscles, his knife ready in his hand.
CHAPTER 4
“Lady Juliet.”
Juliet looked up from her writing desk. “Yes?”
“The Witch is awake.”
“Thank you.” Juliet nodded at the footman, dismissing him, then stood, taking the hastily scrawled note she’d been reading. The other Lillian—Lily—had been spotted by one of Juliet’s informants outside a nearby café. Rowan had been inside the café, and he’d seen Lily, too. Apparently, he’d chased after her. Juliet’s man had lost them both in the winding streets, but he had written in the note that he believed Rowan had caught her. Juliet threw the paper in the fire on her way to the door. She’d learned the hard way that Gideon wasn’t above riffling through her private documents.
It was late. Long past sunset. The thought of Lillian—Lily, Juliet reminded herself again—out there in the dark was enough to make her ill. It comforted her some to know that Rowan had most likely taken her off the streets, although it probably shouldn’t. Rowan had more reason to want Lillian dead than just about anyone.
And how were they going to keep this quiet? The Outlander shamans—whom even most Outlanders thought were insane—were right. There really were an infinite number of worlds on the other side of every shadow, and Lillian had found a way to access them. They had to keep this a secret, above everything else, but Lillian had allowed Lily to go running off into the city. Alone.
Juliet noticed she was wringing her hands. The thought of how Lily must be feeling—kidnapped and surrounded by strangers in a strange land. Juliet stopped herself and opened the door to her real sister’s bedroom, trying with little success to convince herself not to worry.
