Trial by Fire

Lily dried herself off, wiped steam from the mirror, and took her first look at the new haircut. She didn’t recognize herself. Wet, her hair looked black, and her eyes glowed bright green in contrast. Lily rumpled her curls with her hand, squeezing out the water. The back was clipped so short it felt nearly shaved at the nape. It didn’t look bad, she admitted, just drastically different from what she was used to.


Still missing her long hair, Lily sighed and wrapped Rowan’s robe around her. It was way too big on her, and the collar slouched down off her shoulders, but it was clean and comfortable. She left the bathroom and wandered down the hall toward the delicious smell coming from the kitchen.

Rowan was serving the finished meal onto plates when she joined him. He looked up at her and paused for a moment, his eyes resting on her bare neck. He turned and put the last pan in the sink and ran water over it. “Perfect timing,” he said over his shoulder.

Lily waited for him to sit, rolling up the sleeves of her robe until she could actually find her fingers, and then they both descended on their food like vultures. He’d made her a lentil and pasta dish, steamed artichokes, and a baked red pepper stuffed with something like herbed polenta that she’d never encountered before. It was so delicious she made delighted noises while she ate, earning several satisfied grins from Rowan. When they were finished, they both leaned back in their chairs, too tired to do much more than stare at each other hazily.

“Thank you, Rowan. That was wonderful,” Lily said. He nodded in acknowledgment. “You cooked; I’ll clean.” She stood and started grabbing plates.

“Leave them,” he said, standing.

“I don’t mind.”

“Tomorrow.” He came around the table and put his hands on Lily’s wrists, guiding the plates back down to the table. His gaze was warm and his voice low. “I appreciate it, I really do. But it’s bedtime.”

Her eyes were level with Rowan’s willstone, resting high on his breastbone under his clothes. She thought about touching it and about the sharp, almost painful awareness of him that had followed. The memory made her shake. Her eyes flicked up to his and she froze. His fingers fanned out across the insides of her wrists, smoothing over the soft, sensitive skin there before he suddenly pulled away from her.

“You need sleep,” he said in a wavering voice.

He led her down the hallway, past the bathroom she had used, and into a large bedroom with a vaulted ceiling that was crowned with a faceted skylight. Stairs led up to a dais, where a wide bed dominated the otherwise uncluttered, almost empty room. Rowan led her up the steps, turned down the snowy-white comforter, and folded her between the crisp sheets.

“Sleep,” he repeated, tucking her in, and then he turned and left the room.

The lights dimmed and went out as Rowan walked past them. Seeing his large silhouette pausing in the doorway for a last second-check on her filled Lily with a sense of well-being. Sleep seized her like a fever, wrestling her under within seconds.




Gideon let himself into Rowan’s building and climbed the six flights of stairs. Rowan hadn’t changed the outside wards, but Gideon was certain he’d changed the ones on his apartment. He’d had Carrick check them.

Gideon knew he wasn’t supposed to do this. It had only been a few hours since the meeting with the Council members, and he still hadn’t managed to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth. They were so frightened of Rowan. So scared of any miscalculation around the Witch that they would let the discovery of the century slip through their fingers.