“But he can’t use elemental energy against the Woven,” I object, confused. “He’d have to bomb the whole continent. I understand this energy—every witch knows what powers the sun and the stars—and I tell you it causes more damage than the enemy you would use it against.”
“He doesn’t want to use the bombs against the Woven. He wants to use them against the Thirteen Cities.”
“Why?” I whisper.
“What choice do we have? The Covens won’t allow Outlanders to own property and build walled cities of our own. If we continue having to fight both the Woven and the laws of the cities, the Outlanders will die out. Our very existence is at stake, Lillian. What would you do if you were caught between hammer and anvil as we are? If we can’t get rid of the Woven, Alaric will get rid of the cities.”
“I can’t make the Council and the other twelve Covens change the law!” I shout defensively. “I’ve tried! I only have so much power, shaman, and quite frankly too many people make too much money off the mines that the Outlanders work.”
“The mines the Outlanders die in,” the shaman corrects quietly. “You need us to be poor so you can get rich. Is it any wonder some of my people want to see every single one of the cities burn?”
“So what’s stopping them?”
“The bombs aren’t finished,” the shaman admits. “We need to find a way to get rid of the Woven before those bombs are complete or Alaric will blow you to hell.”
Seconds crawl by, each getting heavier than the last. I’ve never thought of time as having mass before, but it does. When time slows down it takes on so much weight that even one second could drag a star down into darkness.
“Are the bomb parts still in my school?” I ask calmly.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” He makes a frustrated sound. “You’re focusing on the wrong thing. No one person knows where all the bomb parts are except Alaric. You gotta focus on finding the world that got rid of the Woven to end this.”
“Getting rid of the Woven isn’t going to stop Alaric and Chenoa now,” I reply. “They’ll just wait until after I deliver the Woven solution, and then they’ll use their bombs. Not because it makes sense, but because they hate us. You said it yourself. They want to see the cities burn. I’ve seen what elemental energy does to cities. I’ve lived it, and I know there’s only one way to keep the Outlanders from detonating your stolen poison.”
“What are you talking about, girl?” the shaman asks fearfully. But he knows. He’s not naive. “Look, there’s no telling how many students, teachers, and science-minded folk Chenoa has shown a little bit of this and a little bit of that over the years. It could be hundreds of people.”
I am dead inside already. I’ve let go, like a child letting go of a beautiful birthday balloon. It was only ever full of air, anyway. All that’s left for me to do is clean up the mess.
I’ll save as many as I can by killing the rest.
CHAPTER
9
Lily had a vague sense that she was moving. She felt a steady flow of air rushing over her singed skin and the occasional jolt of a misstep. She was having trouble catching her breath and, as she wiped away the cobwebs still connecting her mind to Lillian’s memory, she realized she was having trouble breathing because she was slung over someone’s shoulder.
“I think she’s coming around,” Breakfast whispered frantically.
Lily peeled her eyes open and saw a chaotic mix of upside-down limbs and woodland landscape bouncing around as if someone had thrown her in a dryer. She propped herself up against Rowan’s back and saw Breakfast’s panicked face huffing and puffing as he ran through the milky light of a snowy dawn.