by Amber Argyle
She craned her head back and still couldn’t see the tops. The branches reached so high into the sky they mingled with the clouds. Light reflected off mirrors hanging from the tree trunks. But then a woman leaned out of a tree to call to someone below.
Those weren’t mirrors. They were windows. And the trees weren’t just trees. They were houses. Around some of the windows, balconies had grown of twisted branches. Some of those balconies were connected by elegant bridges, which people crossed, going from one tree to another. How had Lilette forgotten this?
Rubbing at a cramp in her neck, she watched keepers and guardians go in and out of the trees like ants—only through doors, which wasn’t like ants at all. “I have to sit down,” she said to no one in particular. She plunked down on the deck and rested her forehead on her knees.
Someone laughed at her. Lilette tipped her head back to find Jolin looking down at her. “Wait until you see Haven. Bethel isn’t finished yet, but those cliffs take your breath away.”
“Bethel?”
Jolin’s gaze hardened. “She’s the most famous keeper alive.”
“Are we going to Haven now?” Lilette wasn’t sure she could handle any more shocks today.
Jolin shook her head. “No. You’ll need to report to the Heads. They live on the highest peak in Grove City.” She pointed to a tree that towered above the rest, so high Lilette could see the top even from where she sat surrounded by people.
Lilette stared at the sky, which was slowly being blotted out by trees. “Grove City—the city is an actual grove.”
“Don’t you remember?”
Lilette shook her head. What else had she forgotten? “How is it the wind doesn’t blow them down?”
Jolin gave her an exasperated look.
“Because the witches control the wind,” Lilette said with sudden realization.
To her right, people shifted. She looked through dozens of pairs of legs and saw one in particular moving toward her. She recognized those shin guards. Looking up at Han’s face, all she could think was that she’d kissed him. And she wanted to do it again.
He crouched beside her. “Are you all right?”
“Han, they live in the trees.”
He smiled a little crookedly. “Well, they are witches. Come on. Geth wants your help docking the ship.” Han helped her up and placed his hand on the small of her back. The pleasure of his touch spread through her.
“Creators help us.” Jolin threw her hands in the air.
Once at the bow, Lilette called out orders for the sails and makeshift rudder. By now, the guardians were proficient at working both, so they didn’t need much guidance. The zhou pulled into the docks and was tied off.
Geth called out to a man who came to meet their ship and explained who they were. The man looked the vessel over with a keen eye and said, “Leader Gyn? Keeper Sash?”
Geth shook his head. “Lost. I’m Leader Geth. This is Lilette. She was made Point in Harshen.”
The man looked them over, his gaze lingering curiously on Lilette. “The Heads are waiting for your report. I’ll let them know you’re coming. The rest of you report back to your disciplines.”
Report to the most powerful women in the world? Lilette tried to keep her panic from showing.
Geth studied her before he turned to Jolin. “You best come along and help Lilette become acclimated.”
Lilette cast him a grateful look. With a smile, he ushered them from the ship. Just beyond the docks, she got a true sense of the size of the ramparts surrounding Grove City. Compared to the trees that towered above it, it was rather small, until one considered that it was easily the height of fifty men. Just gazing at the top made Lilette dizzy. She looked closer and couldn’t see seams or bricks. Her jaw dropped. It was all one long, seamless piece of stone.
“How is this possible?” she asked.
“We are well protected,” Jolin said with a touch of pride.
They approached the main gates—a statue of a witch and a guardian, standing as sentinels on either side. Their crossed weapons—a green, growing staff and a sword—formed the gate’s arch and made it look like the entire wall was part of the barrier. The group passed beneath the shadows of the archway. It took Lilette easily thirty steps to reach the other side.
When she stepped into the open air, she couldn’t stop staring at the trees. The tops of the doors and windows were peaked. Some were at ground level, nestled between the buttressed roots. Others sat at the top of long stairs made of the trees’ roots.
It was obviously a city, but not one laid out on a grid. It should have been messy, but there was an overarching pattern in the placement of the trees, which were far enough apart for the sun to pass between them, and the curve of the path like the bends of a river. Lilette wondered how long it would take her just to walk around one tree.
Once her shock at the size of the trees started to wear off, she realized the city didn’t smell like any she’d ever visited. Instead of the sickening smell of human waste mixed with smoke and food, Grove City smelled of flowers, a rich kind of resin, and the mineral tang of the ocean.
People hustled in and out of the trees, a sense of agitation in the way they moved. “Apparently, word has spread about what happened in Harshen,” Jolin said.
The trees’ buttress roots jutted up against the paths. Inside some of these natural alcoves, merchants had set up shops—some complete with canvas awnings. The stalls featured hand-dyed silk, copper cutlery, leather goods, shoes, food, and many other items.
“Pretty necklace for a pretty lady!” a merchant with a curling mustache called as they approached. From the tree house behind him, a witch began singing to pots arranged before her. The plants started growing, but so did all the other plants within the sound of her voice. Around the vendor, vines edged over his table of wares, shifting the jewelry.
A dangling earring caught on the beginnings of a leaf. The plant grew upward, taking the earring with it. The merchant snatched the earring just before it grew out of his reach. A fern edged around his clothes, feeler vines climbing up his mustache. He took out a pair of shears, and with a loud harrumph, he tugged the vine free and cut the plants back at the roots. In the process, he accidentally cut off part of his mustache. All around him, merchants were hacking plants down, but almost as quickly, the plants grew back.
Finally, the witch stopped singing. The frantic cutting slowed before merchants began straightening their wares and discarding cut bits of leaves from the tables.
“Does this happen often?” Lilette asked Jolin.
“A hazard of living with this many witches in one place.”
Once they began climbing the hill in earnest, Lilette found it difficult to keep up. Han studied her with obvious concern and asked her if she was all right.
She pressed the palm of her hand over her heart. “Perfect,” she gasped.
He stepped closer. “I can carry you.”
She shot him a glare. From in front of them, Jolin mumbled something under her breath about sardines and scowls.
“We’re not in a hurry,” Geth said to their guide.
Lilette hated that they had to slow down for her, but there was nothing she could do about it.
As they neared the top of the hill, the trees looked older—even ancient. The group crossed beneath a wicked-looking hedge covered in curved, cruel thorns the size of Lilette’s thumb. Tiny yellow flowers with red centers bloomed throughout, giving off a sweet, light fragrance.
Beyond them, along the perimeter, two rows of trees stretched as far as Lilette could see. She immediately recognized them—barrier trees. She stared up at them nervously as she and the others came within reach, but the trees didn’t move except to shift with the breeze.
At this elevation, Lilette could look back at the ramparts, and it suddenly occurred to her that it appeared much like a brazier filled with wood. “What about fire?” she asked.
Jolin waved her hand dismissively. “Fires have happened befor
e. The witches simply call in a storm to dampen any flames. If anyone were ever foolish enough to attack us, we could grow thorns beneath their army’s feet so fast they would never even reach the ramparts.”
Lilette took a deep breath to calm the panic in her heart. “So the only way to fight the witches is with more witches. What’s to stop someone like the emperor from trying again—and this time succeeding?”
“We were placed here at the beginning of the world to keep and protect,” Jolin said. “What Emperor Nis did was an anomaly.”
The words did nothing to calm the foreboding in Lilette’s heart. “What happens when other countries realize how close the emperor came to succeeding? How easily the keepers can be subdued and forced to destroy an entire nation?”
Jolin shook her head. “It won’t happen. Stop worrying.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Lilette asked softly.
“Then the world will fall.”
Chapter 22
Lilette had the kind of beauty that men went to war over. Sometimes I hated her for it. ~Jolin
Lilette and her group were ushered into a raised pavilion. Climbing vines clung to the trellis and made a roof of leaves. Enormous potted plants were everywhere. Some held trees loaded with ripe fruit. Other pots overflowed with flowers that perfumed the air with their heady fragrance. Some pots held different kinds of herbs lined up in neat rows. In the background was singing. Not the dark, sharp-edged songs that turned Lilette’s stomach, but the gentle, growing songs that made the very air throb with life.
Keepers and guardians milled about, but they stopped what they were doing as Lilette and the rest of her group walked in. How ragged we must look, she thought. There had been no privacy aboard the ship, but she’d managed to wash her tunic and trousers and to scrub herself with a rag dampened with seawater. Without a comb, she’d simply run her fingers through her hair and braided it in the traditional fashion of the women of her village.
They approached the center of the enormous pavilion. Sitting on marble chairs on a dais were four women surrounded by people—it was clearly some kind of meeting. The man who’d fetched Lilette and the others from the ship approached a desk off to the side and spoke to half a dozen women in simple gray dresses with matching veils covering their hair.
Jolin leaned close and whispered to Lilette, “Each Head represents one of the elements. The redhead, Garen, is Head of Plants. The older woman, Brine, is Head of Water. Tawny is the dark one with the cropped hair—she’s Head of Earth. And the young one is Merlay, Head of Light.”
Merlay. She was the one Sash had said to trust. Lilette would have to speak with her when the council ended.
The women looked nothing like each other—old and young, light and dark—but despite their differences in appearance, they all wore the same mantle of authority. Lilette counted a dozen guardians stationed around the pavilion, their gazes wary.
One of the veiled women rose and went to whisper in Brine’s ear. The older woman clapped her hands. “Everyone out.”
“Who are the women with the veils?” Lilette quietly asked Jolin.
“They’re wastrels—servants of the keepers.”
The term was vaguely familiar, and the associations Lilette had were not positive.
Brine inclined her frothy gray head. “We’ll keep this short, as we are all very busy with the situation in Harshen. I recognize you, Guardian, though I don’t recall your name.”
Geth half bowed. “I am Geth, second to Leader Gyn.”
“I’m assuming Gyn is dead?” Brine asked, then scrawled something on a parchment a wastrel held for her.
“I believe so,” Geth responded.
Brine waved the wastrel off. “Most unfortunate. He was a good guardian.” She removed some of her own parchment and took out a quill. “We already know much of what has passed in Harshen. We simply need you to fill in the gaps.” Geth nodded. “How many of you returned?” Brine asked.
Geth swallowed. “Of the thirty-six witches to depart, only nineteen have returned. Of the sixty-eight guardians, only twenty-two.”
Remembering how so many of them had died, Lilette winced.
Brine marked it down in her notes. “I’ll assign someone to debrief the survivors shortly.”
Fury flashed through Lilette at Brine’s matter-of-fact attitude. She was suddenly there again, soaked to the skin as lightning flashed. Her last glimpse of her sister’s face. The elephant’s heart-rending cry. Lilette squeezed her eyes shut and tamped the memories back.
“And Point Sash?” Brine went on.
Lilette had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming. Geth cut a glance at her. “She and the others stayed behind to create a circle so we could escape.”
Merlay covered her mouth with her hand.
“The ones left behind—I assume they’re dead?” Brine didn’t even look up from her notes.
“Chen has a temper,” Han spoke up. “But he needs those witches. There’s a good chance they’re still alive.”
“And who are you?”
“Han, second son of the Golden Dragon.”
Brine’s eyebrows rose. “That makes you a prince.”
“Yes. A prince and a representative for Harshen. I have come to negotiate our peaceful surrender.”
Lilette gaped at Han as if she’d never seen him before. The emperor had over five hundred children, and only one of them was named heir. Han didn’t have the authority to negotiate anything.
The Heads seemed equally shocked. “Your father authorized this?” Brine asked.
“He’s dead,” Han said in a voice like steel.
Brine’s gaze narrowed. “So you’re the new emperor?”
Han’s his face went red, making his scar stand out. “No. My brother Chen is emperor now.”
Merlay watched him through lowered lids. “You said our witches might be alive. You don’t know?”
“Not for certain.”
Brine pointed her quill at him. “You have no authority to act for Harshen. Why are you wasting my time?”
Lilette stepped forward. “He can help you.”
Brine shot her a look full of impatience. “And who are you?”
“I’m the empress.” Creators’ mercy, she really was. She hadn’t realized it until now.
“It cannot be,” Merlay said, her face pale.
Tawny gaped at Lilette. “But you’re white!”
“You’re not,” she replied.
A slow smile spread across Tawny’s face. “I see we’re both observant.”
Brine rolled her eyes and looked at Lilette again. “Are you authorized to act in Harshen’s behalf?”
“I don’t need to be,” she answered. Han stiffened beside her, but if he could exaggerate, so could she.
Brine sighed. “I’m fast losing my patience.”
“You must depose Chen,” Lilette said, “and put Han in his place.”
“And how are we to do that?” Brine asked brusquely. “We do not have a standing army.”
“You don’t need one. Cut off Harshen’s rains until they release our witches and dispose of Chen.”
Brine studied her. “What is your name, Empress, and how do you know so much of us?”
“She’s a witch.” Merlay’s face was drawn. The other three Heads stared at Lilette.
“My name is Lilette. I was shipwrecked in Harshen as a child.”
Tawny and Garen exchanged hushed whispers, while Merlay looked as if she might be sick.
Good. They’d heard of her. Hopefully that would help.
“So it’s true,” Garen breathed. “Harshen really did sink our ship and . . . kill your parents.”
Lilette fought the memory, but it welled up from deep within her, drowning her with images she wished she could banish forever. “Elite boarded our ship. My mother and I barricaded ourselves in the captain’s cabin. I was very young—only eight. We set the ship afire to hide our escape.” Her mother was crying. Her father was dead. The ship was burning
too fast, flames licking her mother’s feet. The smoke was so thick Lilette couldn’t breathe.
“My mother shoved me in a pickle barrel.” Then she’d kissed Lilette, her lips damp with tears or sweat or both. Stuffed so tight into a pickle barrel she could barely move, her eyes stinging with a mixture of smoke and vinegar vapors. “There was an explosion.” Careening through the air before slamming into the water.
“My mother didn’t make it.” The imperial soldiers had found her body, had pulled her into their boat. But they hadn’t found Lilette. The next day, she’d managed to escape the barrel, though she’d nearly drowned in the process. She’d sung herself a current and spent two days at sea before Fa had found her and taken her in. Years later, that kindness had been repaid with death and destruction.
The silence in the room finally pulled Lilette out of her memories. Witches and guardians had gathered around her as she’d spoken.
Brine waved them away. “The meeting is cancelled. We’ll resume again tomorrow.” But no one made a move to leave.
“So it was you our listeners heard.” Garen had a different accent from the rest—it sounded warm and rolling. She turned to the other Heads. “But why didn’t they find her earlier?”
“Back to the matter at hand,” Brine said. “Deposing Chen and letting his brother take his place does little to satisfy justice.”
“What about mercy?” Lilette asked.
Brine’s steel-gray eyes flashed. “And what mercy did Chen and his murderer of a father show the seventeen witches and thirty-eight guardians who are now dead or imprisoned by Harshen hands—let alone your parents and the guardians killed years ago?”
Lilette stared at her. “How did you expect Harshen to react when you brought Vorlay’s ships to their door? They were only protecting themselves!” Why was she standing up for Harshen?
Brine shot to her feet. “We did no such thing!”
Lilette eyed her. “You did. I know it, and every one of the witches with me knows it.” She looked pointedly at Jolin.
Her friend cleared her throat. “It’s true.”