Trial by Fire

“The best jam I’ve ever tasted.” Rowan cradled her hand in between both of his, running his fingertips over the blue veins that traced under her translucent skin and circling the swirls of her fingerprints. “So I’ll leave that jar of jam for someone else. Someone who really needs it.”


The first time Lily had seen Rowan glaring at her through the glass window of the café, she had been so overwhelmed by his anger she hadn’t noticed much else about him. Now she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t seen, right from the first, that he was absolutely beautiful. His thick hair, sensitive mouth, even his hands were shaped in a way that appealed to her.

Lily stared at him, amazed. “I can’t believe it.”

“What?” he asked, confused. “What can’t you believe?”

“I can’t believe you’re the same guy who peed on my head a few hours ago.”

“I didn’t pee on your head! I did it in the cauldron,” he said, laughing, which was exactly what Lily had intended. It hurt her to see Rowan that sad.

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other,” she said wryly, waving off his protestations. “All I know is that you cut off all of my hair and dyed it who-knows-what-color, and you used your pee to do it.”

“You’re never going to forgive me for that, are you?” he asked sagely.

“Nope.”

“Well, it was worth it.” He reached out and pushed a few stray curls away from her forehead. “I can see your face better with short hair. I do miss the red, though.”

Rowan’s eyes ticked over her face, her throat, her shoulders, as if he couldn’t stop following the flow of her shape. When his eyes finally circled back to hers, Lily could barely meet them. She didn’t have a joke ready to deflect the tension. All she could do was stare up at him, her mouth parted as if it were waiting for the smart comment that her brain failed to supply.

“We should get some rest,” he said, looking away.

Rowan left Lily by the fire for a few moments and returned with two curious-looking wooden frames. Leaving those by the fireplace with Lily, he went to a small chest in the corner, opened it with his willstone, and returned with two tarps and two blankets. He had Lily hold the blankets while he stretched the tarps across the frames, making two cots that resembled something that was halfway between hammock and lawn furniture.

“The blankets smell fresh,” Lily said, sniffing them. “Do you think someone’s been here recently to replace them?”

Rowan shook his head in answer while he worked. “Travelers use their willstones to seal up storage chests with a universally known charm. All the next traveler has to do is touch their willstone, think open, and it does. But until then, no leaks and no bugs.”

“No wonder you don’t need plastic,” Lily said, regretting that there wasn’t something like this in her world.

“What’s plastic?”

“Never mind,” Lily replied, too tired to get into it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept. She took off her boots and lay down on the cot, her eyes already closing.

“Good night,” Rowan said, covering her with a blanket.

Lily mumbled something back and fell immediately asleep.




“Lily,” Rowan whispered, shaking her awake.

She opened her eyes and saw Rowan’s face over hers, his index finger pressed to his lips to indicate she should be quiet. He looked pale and scared. Lily sat up, her ears already filling with the high-pitched hiss of fear.

“Woven?” she mouthed, not daring to make a sound. Rowan nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

“The nest,” he mouthed back silently, shaking his head like he wanted to kick himself. “Not empty.”

Outside and to the left of the cabin, Lily heard a faint chittering noise. Rowan’s head cocked in that direction, and he held up one finger. A rustling to the right made him crane his head in the other direction, and Rowan held up a second finger. A soft keening signaled a third Woven. Right outside the cabin door, they both heard scratching. Something pattered across the roof.

Rowan stopped counting at six, and the look on his face changed from fear to regret.