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“He’s had to,” Lily said, frowning at the fire. “Do you think I’m wrong about the Woven?”
Tristan thought for a second before replying. “I think you’re asking the Outlanders to change what they believe about the Woven, and more importantly, what they believe about themselves. That’s a lot. Some of them will do it, some of them won’t.”
“I’m just trying to find a way to stop the Woven from killing the Outlanders. Trying to eradicate the Woven doesn’t work. Lillian taught me that,” Lily said, looking down and shaking her head at the irony of it. “But if the Woven and the Outlanders can coexist somehow, Alaric doesn’t have to destroy the cities. He told me that the only reason he was thinking of blowing up
the cities was because he couldn’t fight both them and the Woven. If the Woven stop killing the Outlanders, then Alaric has no reason to attack the cities. The Outlanders wouldn’t be trapped.” She spread her arms wide to include the huge tracts of land that now lay in darkness. “They could come out here and they would have all this.” Lily gave him a wan smile. “Piece of cake, right?”
“If it was easy someone else would have already done it,” he said.
“And no one has,” Lily replied, her brow pinching with dread. “Not on any of the thousands of worlds I’ve seen. Thousands of other Lilys have tried to solve this same problem and none of them have done it.”
“All it takes is one.” Tristan touched Lily’s shoulder, and she turned to face him. He stood close to her, and his level gaze was full of faith. “It’ll be you,” he whispered and tilted his head, kissing her swiftly before leaving to find Breakfast.
Lily stared after him, stuck in the moment. Of course she knew how he felt about her. He was in love with her. The trouble was, she didn’t know how she felt about him anymore. There was a hole in her, and what amazed Lily was how big it had gotten. It had started where her heart used to be, and somewhere along the way the hole had eaten her through and through. And now, when she looked inside herself, she saw nothing. Not a good trade for Tristan—all his love and devotion for her big, giant nothing.
Lily shook her head to clear it and sat down next to the fire, reminding herself that she needed to focus. She reached out to her tribe, connecting their minds to one another as if they were spokes on a giant wheel. There were thirty-one braves out there beyond the sphere of firelight, and they needed her strength.
She felt Breakfast take a seat next to her and together they waited through the long night, listening to the mournful howls of the Pack circling just beyond the edge of vision. But the attack never came, and Lily never gave the order for her braves to find the Pack and kill them.
One by one, Lily could feel her braves deciding to leave her. While they sat crouched in the dark, aching to seek out the Pack and slay them, they lashed out at her and accused her of not doing as she said she would. They’d come west to kill Woven, and Lily was denying them that.
A part of her understood. A larger part of her felt betrayed. Knowing that all but a few braves outside of her inner circle of mechanics were going to leave her made Lily ache for someone—anyone—who could understand her. Someone who knew what it was to lead against the majority rule. There was only one person who truly understood what Lily faced. Herself.
Lillian. They all want to leave me, even though what I’m doing is for their own good. Killing the Woven one by one won’t solve the problem.
No. It won’t, Lily. The Woven reproduce too quickly.
My braves think I’m betraying them, but I’m trying to save them. I feel abandoned. Is that how you feel?
Yes. I understand what you’re going through. I know what it is to do something for the good of the many, only to be hated for it. I even know what it is to hate yourself for doing it. I did what I had to in order to get out of the barn because I knew that I couldn’t save their world, but I could still save mine. And I did it for people who despise me now.
What did you do, Lillian? How did you get out of the barn?
It is my most shameful moment. It’s when I did the one thing I thought I would never do.
… I cradle the boy in my lap and use what energy I have left to ease his suffering. It’s no use. I’m so weak I can barely hold his emaciated body in my arms, let alone calm his severed and screaming nerves.
River took his arm. The boy howls, screaming that his missing limb burns. I know what it is to burn. I wish I could do it for him. I wish I could do it for all of them. I grit my teeth in frustration and count the clothes on all the bodies around me. If I were to get them to give me all their clothes to burn, would that be enough to fuel me?
Fuel me for what? I can’t claim these willstone-less people. I can’t make an army out of lambs. I drop my face into my hands and scream along with the boy in my lap. They’re all going to die, mutilated and starving in the dark. There’s nothing I can do to save any of them.
But they can save me.
I must say good-bye to the person I thought I was, and give up the self-serving image of myself as good. Good people die with a smile, allowing the world to disintegrate around them, just so they can protect their precious understanding of themselves. But I will not allow myself to die in this barn just so I can have a hero’s ending. I will give up myself in order to save my world—to save Rowan’s world.
I make my choice.
“Everyone! Listen to me,” I say. “The doctor will be coming back soon, but I have a plan.” A few of the more lucid ones turn their eyes to me. I place the boy on the ground and stand. “I’m a witch and I know a way to get out of here.”
“If you’re a witch, then where is your willstone?” asks one of them.
“I swallowed my stone when they took me. We don’t have a lot of time left,” I reply.
“I recognize you,” another says. “You’re the Salem Witch. They said you died in the blast.”
“There’s no time to explain,” I say. “I’m alive because I can do something that no one knows I can do.” I smother the last bit of my humanity. “I can take us all out of here—to another world.”
Some of the lambs move away, but most move closer. They don’t believe me, but they want to, and that might be enough. “Look at me,” I say, holding out my bare arms so they can see smooth skin. “Look how unblemished I am. That’s because I wasn’t here when the blast happened. I was on another world, and I can get you all out of here. I can take you back where I came from.”
