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“How did you—?”
“Magic,” Rowan answered automatically. “We need to make a tent. Lily’s lungs are scalded raw and they’re filling with blood. She’ll drown if we don’t stop it. Do you have large sheets and a way to prop them over her?”
“Yes,” Juliet replied, and stumbled out of the room to the linen closet, dumbfounded by what she had just seen. No medicine worked that fast. Burned skin did not heal in a few seconds—if it ever really healed at all.
Juliet returned with the sheets and saw Rowan leaning over Lily. Tendrils of reddish-purple light emanated from the dark jewel at his throat and danced across Lily’s face. One of the tendrils snaked down Lily’s throat, and she gasped and sputtered. Rowan turned her head to the side and blood oozed out of Lily’s mouth. Juliet took a step forward to stop him. When he looked up at her his face was pale and strained with effort and his eyes were so frantic that Juliet checked herself.
“Hold that sheet over us. Keep the steam in,” he said weakly.
Juliet’s arms shook with fear, and the hair on her arms stood up at an uncanny frisson when she came near Rowan’s strange bubble of dark light. She threw the sheet over the three of them, including an edge of the now-steaming pot as she wrestled with herself. Juliet was a rational, sensible woman. She knew there was no such thing as magic—except she also knew, on some deep level, that what she was witnessing had no other explanation.
“Magic,” Juliet muttered, half out of her wits with anxiety and disbelief.
“Yes,” Rowan replied. “I’ve got to ease the blood out of her lungs before I mend the damaged tissue, but if I do it too quickly I could choke her.” He suddenly leaned forward, tilting his ear close to Lily’s mouth. “What? What are you saying?” Rowan whispered to Lily.
“Water, water everywhere…,” she replied, and then her eyes relaxed, half open and half closed, and her body went slack.
“Lily? Lily!” Juliet gasped, her voice quickly rising in panic.
“She’s not dead,” Rowan said. “She’s spirit walking. We can’t reach her now.”
Juliet saw Lily’s lips moving slightly. “Who is she talking to?”
“I don’t know,” Rowan replied. “Whoever it is, I hope they give her some comfort.” He sat up and took a shuddering breath, his fierce gaze meeting Juliet’s. “Now we really get to work. I know you don’t have a weak stomach, so I’m going to count on you, Juliet. This won’t be easy or pretty.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Juliet replied. He looked at her like he knew her. It puzzled Juliet because something in her whispered that she did know this young man, even though she’d never laid eyes on him before. “Just tell me what to do.”
* * *
Lily saw her sister and her mother. She saw Rowan. She saw her home. All of the things she loved were inches away from her, but they drifted by like hawks soaring on an updraft. They kept falling away from her until all she saw was mist.
She was floating on a misty ocean. Across from her was herself. Lily and Lillian sat across from each other in identical poses—their legs drawn up close, chins resting on their knees, arms wrapped around their shins. Lily spoke first, and Lillian answered. Mindspeak was all they needed here on the raft.
“Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.”
That’s quite fitting, Lily. I’m so thirsty.
Are you burned, too, Lillian?
Of course. You and I are in the same boat—or raft, as you imagine it. The pyre gives more than it takes, but it always seems to take more than you can bear.
Where are we?
I call it the Mist. It’s neither here nor there, neither living nor dead. Can you remember the rest of that poem, Lily?
No. I read it before I had a willstone. My memory wasn’t perfect then like it is now—unfortunately, because I wish I could forget this. I know I won’t, though. I remember every second of my life now that I have a willstone.
I’ve had a willstone since I was six and haven’t forgotten anything since. There are things I would give anything to forget. But I can’t.
I saw Rowan reading an old math textbook once. Tristan told me Rowan had to relearn nearly everything because he smashed his first willstone and those memories were no longer stored for him. I wonder how many memories Rowan entrusted to his first willstone that are lost to him now.
He’s lucky, actually. I remember every second he and I spent together and it kills me.
