Lily Whitmore's Arc

Chapter 13 of 17

Lily stared at the blank stone at the head of her grave. The others stood around the hollow and looked at it too. Meridian said again that a grave without a name would not close. Marrow's hands were still muddy from the dig. Mr. Echo held Orin up by one arm. The sun was not up yet, but the sky above the pines had gone pale gray. Lily could feel the edges of herself thinning. Dawn would scatter her. "Someone has to carve it," Meridian said. "Before the sun clears the trees." Marrow reached for the flat stone and pressed her thumb against it. Her thumb slid off. "I don't have a chisel. I don't know how." Mr. Echo shook his head. "My hands are full." He tipped his chin at Orin, who had gone slack on the flat rock. Lily looked at her own hand. It passed through the headstone like smoke through a window. The girl in the black dress stepped forward. Selene held out a stone quill. Small letters glowed along its shaft. "Namekeeper," she said. "It writes what a mother named a child. Living hand only." Marrow took it. She turned it once. "I can try." Selene shook her head. "You didn't name her. It won't take from you." Marrow looked around the hollow. The girl in the red top was gone with the horses. The blue-edged boy was somewhere past the gate. No mother stood among them. Lily's mother was down in the village and did not know her daughter was here. There was no time to fetch her. The gray in the sky was turning white at the edges. Orin lifted his head. The truth serum still moved in him. His mouth opened before his mind caught up. "Mother called her Lily Anne," he said. "After the aunt who drowned." His voice was flat. He did not want to give it. The serum gave it for him. Meridian's eyes went to Selene. Selene said, "Blood counts. He heard the naming. Put the quill in his hand." Mr. Echo pried Orin's fingers open and pushed the quill between them. He guided the bad arm down to the stone. Orin's hand shook. The tip touched the rock. Light bit into the surface. Letters cut themselves under his fingers as if the quill knew the shape and only needed a living hand to hold it. Lily Anne Whitmore. The last stroke closed. The stone went quiet. The hollow beneath her feet pulled at her once, warm and low, and then let go. Lily did not sink. She stayed standing on the packed earth beside the lanterns and the small flowers. Meridian frowned and tapped her own jaw. "It should have taken you." Selene looked at the fresh name on the stone and then at Lily. "A grave holds a body," she said. "Yours isn't the only thing still open."