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“Later,” Carrick said. He sat back in his chair. The cushions were plump. Carrick disliked padding on his furniture. “Why don’t you just go ahead and ask me what you came here to ask me?”
Bendingtree smiled at him, slow and knowing. She wasn’t in any rush, but she still wanted something from him. Sure, he was her prisoner, and although this palace with its servants and fancy food and the tub so big he could swim in it didn’t look like any of the dungeons Carrick had been in before, he knew what was going on here. Some captors torture their prisoners, and some pamper them. Carrick knew so much about this dynamic that he saw to the truth of it. If he wasn’t dead, she needed something from him. Strangely, that gave him all the power. He’d respect her more if she tortured him a little.
“You’re an interesting man, Carrick. Do you have a last name?” Bendingtr
ee asked as she poured him an unasked-for glass of wine.
“Bait men have no family names to give their children. They are what they do. Every Outlander knows that.” He wanted it clear that even though she wore beads and feathers, Carrick knew she wasn’t like him.
“So you are Carrick Son of Anoki and nothing else?”
Carrick narrowed his eyes. Not that many people knew who his father was. Had to be an Outlander who told her, but if any Outlander knew about this western city, they all would. Things like this place couldn’t be kept secret no matter how much you paid someone.
“How do you keep your spies from talking about this place?” he asked.
She smiled a pretty smile that Carrick didn’t particularly care for. “Why would you think I have spies?” she asked merrily.
“Don’t be coy. It doesn’t suit you.”
“I have eyes on the situation in the east.” She weighed her words before disclosing her hand. “Enough to know that there are two Lillian Proctors.”
Carrick waited for her to talk some more. People loved to talk, especially when they were proving how smart and powerful they were. A big ego can make even the cleverest person careless, and Carrick had found that silence worked better than a beating with people who thought they were important. All except for Lillian. She never gave anything away unintended. Never talked about herself. Never bragged. Probably because she wasn’t proud of what she did.
“I had hoped to get more information from the Lillian here, but she has proved to be exceptionally tight-lipped.” Grace reconsidered. “Or maybe Toshi isn’t as irresistible as I’d once thought.”
Hearing that made Carrick smile. “Don’t count on a pretty face charming that one into letting her guard down,” he said. Rowan may have distracted Lily for a time, but she wasn’t the type to get her head turned anymore. She came out of the oubliette changed. She liked suffering now; Carrick knew it. That’s why she was perfect for him.
“So which one do you belong to?” she asked. “The sickly Lillian in Salem, or the healthy one? I’m guessing the sick one is your witch, and that the healthy one has no idea you’re here.”
Carrick couldn’t figure out how she could possibly know about the two Lillians. She would have to have someone confirming Lillian’s presence in Salem after Lily was found at Bower City’s gates. Nobody could get from one end of the continent to the other that fast, and no one could mindspeak that far—not even Lillian. Carrick could sense that Bendingtree was powerful, but she was no Lillian. How was she getting her information? He started listing all the spies he could think of in his head, and stopped. She’d corrected him when he said “spies.”
“Eyes, not spies,” he muttered. He looked up at her. “What eyes?”
Grace sighed, disappointed. She was finally realizing that she wasn’t going to get anything out of him, and maybe that she had given more than she’d gotten. She was experienced enough to see that, at least.
“I really don’t see why you won’t cooperate, Carrick, Son of Anoki. Your witch isn’t going to last much longer.”
“So sure the sick one’s mine, are you?”
“The healthy one isn’t desperate enough to claim the likes of you. I’d torture you for more information, but I have the disturbing feeling you’d like that.” She stood, but paused at the door before leaving. “Please. Do enjoy the wine.” Lily flipped her pillow over to the cool side, only to find that it was still warm from when she had flipped it five minutes ago.
She rolled over in bed, an arm crooked over her eyes. The window was open and a salty breeze stirred the curtains, but the night was still too mild for her. Her overheated brain kept slinking back to Rowan like a kicked dog. Sleep wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. On top of that, she kept thinking she heard steps above her, and she wondered how many floors this villa had. She had thought she was on the top floor.
You’re thinking too loud, Juliet said in mindspeak.
Come keep me company, Lily replied, more excited than she should be that her sister had heard her. A minute later Juliet trudged in, sporting a red crease down her left cheek. “You’ve got pillow face,” Lily told her.
“You’ve got pillow hair,” Juliet said back.
Lily pushed a hand into the mad tangle on top of her head. “It matches what’s going on under it, I guess.”
“Man trouble?” Juliet flopped into bed, sprawling out wide so Lily had to move over.
“Am I being too hard on him?” Lily asked, knowing that Juliet would understand she was talking about Rowan.
“Yes and no.” Juliet tipped her head from side to side, like her head was a scale for her thoughts. “No, if you consider what he put you through, and, yes, if you consider what he’s been through since. We had each other on the trail. Rowan was alone.”
“He shared his memories?”
