Lily nodded once, but was too intimidated to say anything back. Alaric touched her broken ankle with his fingertips, and Lily gasped, tears springing to her eyes.
“That’s definitely broken,” he said. Alaric removed his hand and stood. “Get to work on that ankle, you two,” he ordered in Rowan and Tristan’s general direction. “And Lily?” he added over his shoulder. “In the morning, I have some questions for you.” Alaric paused to look at Lily, shaking his head. “The shamans were right. Who’d have thought that?”
The sachem chuckled to himself as he and Caleb disappeared into the dark outskirts of the camp, leaving Lily with Rowan and Tristan. She exhaled slowly and realized that she’d been half holding her breath under Alaric’s intense scrutiny.
Rowan knelt down at Lily’s feet, avoiding her eyes. He stripped off his jacket and began rolling up his sleeves. His face grew pensive as he considered her ankle.
“I’ll get the phosphorous and chalk,” Tristan said, and turned to go.
“And bring iron,” Rowan called after him. “The marrow’s smashed.”
As Lily watched Tristan hurry off, she barely bit back the urge to call after him and beg him not to leave her alone with Rowan. But as she watched Rowan staring at her ankle, her fears about whether or not he would take this opportunity to slit her throat drained away. He was completely focused on her injury.
Rowan placed his fingers on her ankle and pressed gently, but unlike everyone else who had prodded her sore spots, he didn’t hurt her. In fact, she felt some of the pain diminish. Rowan’s willstone flared with a strange, oily light, and the campfire behind him pulsed brighter and then dropped to an almost imperceptibly duller intensity. Lily felt heat under her skin—heat and a slackening of the swollen pressure in her ankle. She felt something like hot fingers prodding the muscle and sinew around her bones. Then the hot fingers dropped deeper and started rearranging the bones themselves like they were nothing more than another kind of stiff tissue. It didn’t hurt, but the sensation was so foreign and off-putting that she tried to pull away from Rowan’s touch.
“Easy,” Rowan said, his deep voice rumbling.
“It’s too weird,” she said, still trying to shy away.
His eyes darted up and met hers. Lily saw fire in them—actual flames licking around his irises.
“Holymarymotherofgod, your eyes are on fire!” Lily blathered.
Since she’d been brought to this alternate Salem, she’d seen necklaces glow and huge doors swish open automatically, but this was the first time she’d seen anything that was flat-out impossible. Lily had never believed in magic, not even when she’d first found herself transported to this alternate universe, but she believed in it now. Like it or not, she’d just felt magic in her bones.
The fire in Rowan’s eyes went out, and the gentle pressure of his fingers suddenly hurt. He released her immediately, almost as if he could sense that he was hurting her, and scooted away.
“You’re not Lillian,” Rowan said roughly.
“No, I’m really not,” Lily replied, taking the opportunity to scoot away from him, too.
They stared at each other, both regarding the other fearfully.
“She did it,” Rowan said, breathless. His eyes left Lily’s and he stared blankly at the ground. “How?” His eyes darted back up to Lily’s and rested there for a moment.
He fell silent until Tristan returned, he and Lily staring at each other skeptically.
“What’s going on?” Tristan asked. He dropped a pack on the ground between them, ending the staring contest. “Lily? Are you okay?”
“It’s not that,” she replied. She motioned to Rowan with her chin. “He believes me now, and it’s freaking him out.”
Tristan turned to Rowan and shrugged. “I tried to tell you.”