Witch's Pyre (Worldwalker #3)(7)

“Your rooms are on the other side,” Toshi told them. A worried frown creased his forehead as he registered the listless expressions around him. “Is this arrangement not to your liking? If you don’t find the rooms suitable, just let me know what you require.”

“They’re lovely. We’ve been traveling for a long time,” Lily said in explanation. “And we’ve lost . . . a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” Toshi replied, his concern deepening. “I’m sure you need your rest. What you’ve done—just getting here—it’s amazing.”

Lily’s head filled with the mountains they’d climbed, the rivers they’d crossed, and the lives that she had lost along the way. She smiled at Toshi uncomfortably and went out onto the balcony as her coven broke away from one another silently and went off to be by themselves. Lily took a deep breath. A wisteria vine framed the wrought-iron casement and spilled over the railing like lavender locks of hair tumbling down a woman’s shoulder.

She felt Toshi join her on the veranda. “I mean it,” he said softly. “What you’ve accomplished is nothing short of a miracle. Those you’ve lost would be proud to see that at least you made it.”

Lily didn’t turn to look at him. She thought of Tristan’s body lying somewhere in a burnt-out field, probably already rotting in the sun, and wanted to say that pride had nothing to do with it. I did that, she thought.

Lily trained her dry, staring eyes on the city that rolled out in front of her. Like a patchwork quilt, interlocking blocks of color were saved from looking too busy by the orderliness of the pattern, and beyond the bright blanket that was Bower City, Lily saw a ribbon of sparkling blue.

“The ocean,” she whispered.

“I can take you there if you’d like,” he offered carefully.

Lily kept her attention on the view, neither accepting nor declining his offer. “Are those ships?” she asked, squinting into the distance.

“Yes.”

Lily turned to face him. “From where?”

“All over,” he said, shrugging. He suddenly understood. “The east is cut off from the rest of the world because of the Woven plague. No other countries will risk contamination through contact with you, but there’s no chance of that with Bower City.” His brow creased with a thought. “There are restrictions, of course, and immigration is carefully watched, but we trade with the rest of the world.”

“Carefully watched by who?” Lily could feel heat rising to her cheeks. She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to scream.

“The Hive,” he said. “The Hive watches over everything in Bower City.” Toshi’s worried frown was back. “I should warn you to watch you temper. They react strongly to anger.”

Lily looked down at the purple blossoms surrounding her. The bees buzzing in and out of them began turning their attention from the flowers to Lily. More came. Toshi didn’t notice, but one had landed on his sleeve. Lily pointed at it.

“Careful,” she warned.

Toshi didn’t even look. “You don’t have to fear being stung accidentally. As long as you don’t attack them, they’ll leave you alone. But you must try and maintain a calm demeanor here in Bower City.”

Lily moved her elbows away from the wisteria. “And if you step on one?”

“They’re smarter than that,” he assured her. “I’ve lived here my whole life and they’ve never stung me.”

Lily relaxed a little, and then considered that maybe she shouldn’t. Watching the Worker go back to picking her way through the petals was not reassuring. They were always there. Always watching. No matter how much she wanted to find a room, lock the door, and start crying and throwing things at the wall, she couldn’t. She had to remain “calm.”

For all the fresh air, this place is more suffocating than the oubliette, she said in mindspeak to Lillian.

When she looked up again, Lily noticed that Toshi was standing very close to her. He seemed to notice it, too, and jerked away from her, embarrassed.

“Well, I’m sure you’re tired,” he said, taking his leave. “Would you like me to send up some food now?”

“Yes. Please,” Lily said, following him back inside. “And thank you, Toshi.”

He opened the door and paused before going through it. When he looked back at Lily he seemed surprised. “It was my pleasure,” he said, and then left.

Lily stayed at the closed door, replaying the conversation in her head.

“Thinking of adding him to your collection?” Tristan asked. His hair was still wet from a shower and he was dressed in one of the silk tunics the men here wore, the laces at his wrists still undone. He looked furious.

“No! I was—he was—” Lily stammered. “It’s not my fault.”

“Forget it,” he said, turning away in a huff and going back to his room.

“And I don’t have a collection!” Lily called after him.

She heard him shout, “I said forget it!” from deep within the other apartment and sighed.

Caleb came through the adjoining doors, cringing at Tristan’s wake. “That could have gone better,” he said.

“It’s not my fault,” Lily repeated.

“It’s a weird witch-mechanic thing. I know that,” Caleb replied. “Tristan does, too. He’s just angry that the line to you got longer.”