“Just to help us out of the goodness of your heart?” Mary repeated doubtfully. “You don’t want anything in return from us or from our men on the ranches? No riots? No votes for your favorite councilman?”
“Take our gifts, use them—or be a fool and throw them all away,” Lily said tiredly, not entirely understanding the complicated politics of how the poor were exploited in this world. “As long as you keep your mouth shut about where you got them, I don’t care what you do.”
Lily saw something in Mary’s eyes change. She realized Lily was only trying to help, and she hated her all the more for it. “Get out,” Mary said hollowly.
“Just show us the way,” Lily retorted.
Riley separated himself from the crowd quickly and led Lily’s coven away, closely followed by his munchkin entourage. From the look on his face as he hurried them down the tracks, he seemed as relieved to get out of that situation as Lily’s coven did.
“She’s thankful, really, even if she didn’t say it, sir,” Riley said nervously to Rowan. “Mary’s just got this way about her, you know? Not so helpful when dealing with a lady witch, but it’s dead useful when we’re bargaining with other groups.”
“It’s alright, Riley, I understand,” Rowan replied. “Charity from witches isn’t something my people trust, either. It usually ends up costing more than it’s worth.”
“I thought you were an Outlander. It’s the way you stand,” Riley said, narrowing his eyes and trying to peer through Rowan’s glamour. Rowan smiled, confident that Riley couldn’t pierce his glamour unless he allowed it. Riley gave up and turned to Breakfast. “You’re an Outlander, too, aren’t you? What tribe are you from?”
Breakfast looked momentarily baffled and changed the subject. Lily felt Rowan’s fingers brush her wrist in that gentle mechanic’s touch.
You need salt badly, Lily. And you haven’t eaten anything substantial in days.
I know. I’ve got a raging headache.
“Stop,” Rowan called to the group, even though they hadn’t traveled more than a few hundred feet from the main group.
He swung his pack off his back and pulled out the jar of olives. Lily sat down on the tracks, too tired to care how dirty they were. She ate the last of the olives and drank the brine while her coven watched anxiously. It helped, but it was still a long way from satisfying her.
Got any more, Rowan?
Rowan turned to Breakfast, and Lily could tell they were conversing in mindspeak. Lily looked hazily at her coven and realized that at some point they’d all earned one another’s trust enough to become stone kin. Her claimed had claimed each other.
“I love you guys,” she blurted out. She sounded drunk.
“Is she going to be okay?” Riley asked, backing away fearfully. “She’s not going to blow up, is she? ’Cause I’ve heard the strongest witches do that when they croak.”
“Of course I’m not going to blow up,” Lily said, laughing. She leaned back too far, lost her balance, and slid off the rail and onto the gravel of the track.
Rowan helped her back up and lifted one of Lily’s wrists to his mouth. He licked her damp skin, tasting her. A muscle in his jaw jumped and he looked at Tristan, sharing mindspeak. They looked worried.
The group heard a shout coming down the tunnel and picked up their heads. A cluster of lookout teens were running down the tracks, waving their arms overhead.
“City guards,” the lookouts shouted. “It’s a raid!”
“They’re rounding up the older boys to ship out to the ranches. We’ve got to hide,” Riley said. Rowan picked Lily up in his arms and they all started running down the tracks, back toward the main group. “Whatever you do,” Riley added anxiously, “don’t kill anyone. We’ll all lose our citizenship if a guard dies in the tunnels, and outside the walls we’re as good as Woven chow.”
They darted through the people scrambling in the tent city and jumped over a small barricade, ducking down behind it to hide. Riley doused the torches around them and told everyone to stay still.