Trial by Fire

“So I’ll bleach my hair blonde and go with Tristan,” Lily replied, as if offering the simplest solution in the world.

You’re not going to a bonfire without me!

Lily could sense that Rowan hadn’t meant to initiate mindspeak. The thought had flown out of him in desperation, breaking three weeks of silence, but he closed himself off before she could sense anything more.

“So. Who wants to help me dye my hair?” Lily said through a grin. “I’ve always wanted to go platinum.”




Tristan and Rowan were chemical geniuses. That, coupled with the fact that they also knew how to do magic, meant that two hours later Lily had white-blonde, pin-straight hair.

“I never thought anything could take the curl out,” Lily said, fluffing her short, silky locks. “If you guys ever came to my world, you could make a fortune as hairdressers, you know.”

“Here. Put this on,” Rowan said, ignoring her frivolous comment and holding out a dress.

Lily pouted. “I like my wearhyde. It makes me look tough.”

“Rebels and Outlanders wear wearhyde,” he said, handing her the frothy pile of chiffon and ribbons. “Witches wear dresses.”

There was no style in Lily’s world to describe the dress, except maybe half-naked wood nymph meets couture, and she struggled with the complicated design for a good twenty minutes before she admitted defeat and called Tristan to help lace her up. The dress ended up being much skimpier than she’d thought. There was a lot of skin involved.

“I hope I don’t catch a cold,” she said jokingly.

“That’s what the gloves are for,” Tristan joked back, handing her a pair of opera-length gloves.

The dress, while complicated, kept her cool, and Lily had to admit it made a lot of sense. Crucibles and witches ran hot, and the dress managed to be sexy and structured but still airier than wearhyde.

“What are the gloves really for?” Lily asked Tristan as they went to join Rowan in the great room. Lily remembered from the walk through town the first night back from the woods that most of the women wearing dresses also wore gloves. It seemed to be more than a style or a trend.

“They’re so you don’t accidentally touch someone else’s stone,” he said, sliding a smile in her direction. “Bonfires can get a little wild.”

Tristan’s smile warmed, and Lily’s eyes dropped to the willstone hanging at his throat. She was acutely aware of the fact that she hadn’t touched it yet. It wasn’t half as lovely to her as Rowan’s stone, but she still wanted it. Lily realized she was staring and tore her gaze away.