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“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.”
