“You’d have to be one of my claimed so I could key into your energy, and you don’t even have a willstone,” I say, not bothering to keep the frustration out of my tone this time. His antiquated ways about willstones have always annoyed me, but until now I’ve respected his taboo about keeping witch magic and shamanism separate. Little good his respect for the old ways does us now. I sigh and try to be more respectful. “Even if I were to send you, I’d still have to know where I was going. It has to be me.”
“Yes,” he whispers. “But stealing from another world is an evil thing, Lillian. I question whether I should have told you ’bout this at all. I’ve already got an account of my evils to settle with the Great Spirit, and maybe I shouldn’t be charging debts onto your soul, too.”
“As far as I’m concerned, the only evil here is the Woven,” I say. He looks at me with a worried frown, like he sees a moral flaw in my statement, but he can’t bring himself to argue against his own wishes. It’s my turn to pat his knee. “It’s okay. This decision isn’t yours. It’s mine. And if it’s evil, then the evil is mine, too…”
Stop. I can’t take this anymore, Lillian. You killed him. You sent the shaman to the oubliette to die. You actually had me fooled for a while. I was starting to see things your way, but there is no excuse for what you did to him. How could I have been so stupid?
Wait, Lily. There’s still something you need to know about Chenoa and the shaman. The account he had to settle—
Chenoa? The Outlander scientist you were so desperate to kill, you sent out an army to mow down a defenseless tribe? Rowan’s tribe! You say that you did everything for Rowan, but you went to war against him and his people. I must have been out of my mind to have listened to you for so long. Just shut up, Lillian. I don’t want to hear you anymore.
You want to bury your head in the sand? Fine. But first ask yourself this. Would you have worldjumped into the unknown to find a way to get rid of the Woven—even if the shaman told you it was evil?
You know I would have. You’re not the only one who’s woken up next to Rowan while he’s having a nightmare. I’ve felt his fear and I hate them for it. The Woven never should have been created in the first place.
Then is it so impossible to imagine that maybe all the choices I’ve made—evil as they may seem—are the same choices you would make if only you knew the rest of my story? Everything I’ve done has been to save as many lives as I can. To save Rowan’s life.
Go away, Lillian.
CHAPTER
3
Lily could still smell Rowan’s delicious Christmas-in-January dinner when she awoke with a start. She wiped her mind clean of Lillian, wanting to kick herself for being so naive and so weak. How could she have listened to her for so long?
Lily got out of bed, feeling a strange disquiet. A quick glance around her room proved she was alone. But something was wrong. She could feel it.
Rowan? Where are you?
Living room.
Lily padded downstairs on her tender feet and found Rowan on the couch. The couch was made up like a bed and he wore a pair of her dad’s old pajamas pants. His face was lit by the blue glow of Lily’s laptop, his eyes staring at the screen.
What’s going on, Rowan?
He slid over in his makeshift bed and Lily sat next to him. On the screen was an ancient black-and-white photo of a pile of bison carcasses. He clicked on another link, and Lily saw a vast field scattered with countless dead bison.
At least when Outlanders die fighting the Woven, we get to go out bravely. There is no dignity in starving to death.
The bison slaughter was only one part of it, Rowan.
Lily took the laptop and typed in “Native Americans, smallpox” and let Rowan read. When he was finished, Lily typed in “Trail of Tears.”
She sat beside him for the next hour as he browsed through one atrocity after another. They both read about how the different tribes were rounded up and forced on death marches across the continent to the reservations. They both learned the many different paths the Native Americans were forced to take, all of which were different legs of the journey known as the Trail of Tears. They stored those paths step by step in their perfect willstone-enhanced memories. Finally, Rowan pushed the laptop aside.
I can’t read anymore tonight, Lily.
Do you want me to go?