Trial by Fire

The Council simply didn’t have enough imagination to understand how important this other version of Lillian could be. She could change the balance of power in this world if Gideon could prove she existed.

Gideon knocked at Rowan’s door and waited, ignoring the impulse to call to him with mindspeak. Not that it would work anyway. He and Rowan were no longer stone kin. Rowan had smashed his stone when he’d left Lillian and had been using a new stone for the past year, one that Gideon wasn’t in tune with. Gideon touched the willstone at his throat, his skin crawling at the thought. He’d seen another mechanic suffering after his stones had been smashed, and Gideon could only imagine that it was like cutting off an arm or putting out an eye. After the guy had recovered, he’d bonded with another willstone, but it took weeks before he could do more than moan. Gideon had always known Rowan was strong, but to smash his own stone? That was something Gideon would never even consider.

He knocked again. He knew Rowan was home. He also knew that there was a girl with him. In all the years he’d known Rowan—and even during this past year when he hadn’t had any contact with him at all—Rowan had never taken any girl but Lillian home with him. True, Gideon’s spies had reported that Rowan was with a dark-haired Outland girl, but hair was easy enough to dye. Gideon knew she had to be this other Lillian that he needed. He felt it. And the Council would thank him for this later, even if he were going against their wishes.

The door opened. Rowan appeared to have just taken a bath. He wore only a pair of loose, drawstring linen pants, his hair wet, and there was a patch of stubble and shaving milk on his neck, still waiting for the razor. Gideon smiled, repressing the urge to hit the handsome bastard. He just kept getting better looking every damn year.

“Hi, Rowan,” he said smoothly. “Bit late for a shave, isn’t it?”

“Gideon,” Rowan replied, his expression stony. “What are you doing here?”

“May I come in?”

“What are you doing here?” Rowan repeated. He angled his shoulders to block the door.

“I’m trying to help you.” Gideon sighed heavily. “There’s a rumor going around.”

“A rumor,” Rowan prompted blankly.

“Something that might get back to Lillian, make her ask questions.” Gideon searched Rowan’s eyes for a flicker of fear, or the uncertainty of a lie, but he saw nothing. It was strange to look at Rowan and have no way into his mind. He hadn’t anticipated that, although he knew he should have. They’d never liked each other—in fact, Gideon knew that Rowan despised him—but being stone kin for so many years had forced them to be closer than brothers.

Up until a year ago, Lillian had not claimed either Gideon or Tristan, and they had been forced to work through Rowan’s mind for years in order to remain in her inner circle. Gideon had never become stone kin with Tristan, but in order to even pretend he was a true mechanic, which many people doubted, Gideon and Rowan had, and they’d spent hours in each other’s heads. Now all Gideon heard from Rowan was implacable silence. Gideon had never once considered that he wouldn’t be able to read Rowan, and at the moment, all Gideon saw was a very large, very lithe Outlander with a razor in his hand. They were strangers now, and Gideon suddenly doubted the wisdom of coming here at all. “A lot of people saw you around town tonight with a girl.”

“That was fast. You must have hired more spies.” Rowan put his hands on his hips. They were hard hands—hands that were used to hitting things, unlike Gideon’s. “Get to the point, Gideon.”

“Is she here?” Gideon looked over Rowan’s shoulder and saw two sets of dirty dishes on the table. “Apparently, she is. I’m surprised. It’s not like you to leave a mess.”

“We had better things to do than dishes.”

Gideon raised an eyebrow at Rowan. If she wasn’t the other Lillian, Rowan wouldn’t work so hard to protect her from view. The fact that Rowan was fighting Gideon was a good sign. “May I meet her?” he asked casually.