Trial by Fire

She’d woken up with Tristan holding her like this before, but now instead of sheets, pillows, and white curtains dancing on the breeze, Lily saw only dry leaves and dirt.

Her arm reached out to hold the hand of another boy. Caleb lay across from her, his giant hand swallowing her wrist and his boulder-like shoulder rising and falling with his gusty breaths. The ground under them was seared and brown. The air radiated up from their little circle, wavering with heat like a mirage. Lily’s heat.

She edged out from under Tristan’s encircling arm and sat up. The ring of heat Lily had created was edged with ice and snow. She looked up and saw snow hissing into steam above her as if it were hitting an invisible dome that vaporized it.

Lily tried to move her leg. Her ankle was being held. She looked down and saw Rowan sitting up, guarding them while they slept.

“I’m not Carrick,” he whispered.

A flood of images from the night before rolled over Lily from Rowan’s perspective. How she’d screamed and scratched him. How she’d shied away from his hands and cried. How he’d burned and froze, burned and froze, over and over to keep her alive.

Lily reached for him and pulled him into the circle of heat. Tristan and Caleb rolled over and complained wordlessly through the gooey glue of sleep. Rowan’s hand was cold. She held it close to her chest and tried to forget everything that they and their doppelg?ngers had done to each other. A nagging thought pestered her mind as it trudged back toward unconsciousness.

Something troubling about Alaric.

It was still snowing at dawn when Lily awoke. The guys were up and clustered around the cauldron, talking quietly. She wanted to get up and join them, but she couldn’t. Lily could barely lift her head.

“She’s awake,” Rowan said, ending their conversation. He looked over at her.

Who am I?

You’re Rowan.

He smiled at her. Don’t forget it again.

Tristan brought her a small bowl of broth while Caleb and Rowan saw to the horses. The broth didn’t go down easily. After just a few swallows, Lily felt uncomfortably full and oddly shaky. She almost threw it up. The guys exchanged worried glances as they packed. They were probably all arguing inside their heads about what to do about her, but Lily knew that they only had one choice. If they didn’t push on, they’d be found by Gideon’s men, or eaten by Woven. They had to make it the rest of the way to the sachem’s camp outside of Salem, or they didn’t stand a chance.

“How much farther do we have to go?” Lily asked Tristan.

“Just a few hours ride. Can you make it?”

She smiled weakly at Tristan as he helped her sit up. “Every morning—at least I think it was in the morning—the shaman would ask me if I was dead yet.”

“The shaman?” he asked. Tristan gave her a worried look, like he thought her fever was making her lose her senses again. She patted his shoulder, a lump forming in her throat. She hadn’t had a chance to mourn her lost friend. He’d been there for her when she’d needed him, but she’d been too late to help him. Much too late.

“I’m not dead yet, Tristan,” she said roughly though her tight throat. “I’ll make it.”

Caleb helped put her on the horse in front of Tristan. It wasn’t until she was mounted that she realized she was wearing a different dress. She wondered if it was another one of Esmeralda’s, taken from her pack hurriedly as they rushed out of Purgatory Chasm. She tried not to think too much of the sound Esmeralda’s body had made when Carrick kept dropping her as he tried to make his way up the rope. She saw Rowan mount his horse carefully.

Why aren’t I riding with you, Rowan?

You’re still blazing hot.

Lily noticed that his right hand was bandaged, and she could see the outline of more bandages under his shirt. Her chest shrank with guilt. She let Rowan feel how terrible she felt.

Are you very badly burned?

I’ll be fine.

That’s not what I asked.