by Amber Argyle
Lilette glanced at Pescal, who stood just outside their door with his hands clasped behind him, and back to Jolin. “You’re coming with me?”
A grin broke out over Jolin’s face. “I sent a letter to the Heads informing them of my discovery. They’ve requested an immediate audience. I suspect they’ll want to show off my discovery at the chesli harvest.” That explained Jolin’s frantic making of more potion. “They’ll have to make me Head of Plants after this. My skill obviously exceeds Garen’s.”
When Lilette didn’t comment, Jolin made a shooing motion. “Pack your things. We’ll be ready for you to sing for this shortly.”
Lilette stared at the scroll, not really seeing it.
Jolin straightened and her gaze narrowed. “My mother went crazy again, didn’t she?”
Lilette hesitated before meeting Jolin’s gaze.
“Did she start in on the end of the world or how we’re going to save everyone?”
“Both.”
“Well then,” Jolin said, “let’s get off this island before we’re stuck spending the rest of our very short lives with her.”
Lilette wet her lips. “Jolin, I believe her.”
Jolin froze, a book in one hand, a handful of straw in the other. “Sometimes I miss social cues, so I’ll just ask outright—are you being facetious?”
Instead of answering, Lilette moved toward the small room she’d shared with Jolin.
“Of course she was being facetious. Silly of me to think otherwise,” Jolin grumbled to herself.
Lilette’s gaze took in the books crammed on the shelves, the bed they’d brought in for her, even the lump in the middle of the floor that she’d stumbled over numerous times.
She pulled her bag of jewels out from behind the book, took her extra dress down from its peg, and she was packed.
She turned back into the main room in time to see Jolin hissing as she picked up a piece of hot amber. She blew on her fingers. “Oh! Creators’ mercy!”
Lilette couldn’t help but smile.
Jolin glanced around. “Doranna, tell Cori to care for my plants. I’ll need you with me for this.”
Doranna pursed her lips. “What if your mother needs me?”
“She’ll be fine. She always is, despite your fussing.”
Lilette hesitated. “Maybe she should stay.” If they all left, Bethel would be alone.
Jolin rolled her eyes. “Doranna was part of this. She deserves some of the credit.” She gingerly touched the amber. “It’s ready. Sing for it while I finish packing.”
“Must you really take all these books?” Lilette asked.
Jolin shot her a disbelieving look. “When I move into the Head of Earth’s tree, I’ll need my books. Everything will change after this.”
Lilette’s breath caught in her throat. “I hope not. I like things the way they are.” Of course, the exceptions included being separated from her sister and Han.
“Well,” Jolin huffed. “I do not.”
By midafternoon, they stood on the deck of the ship as it took them away from Haven. Lilette caught sight of a single figure standing atop the cliffs, one hand raised in goodbye.
“Jolin.” She nudged her friend, who tore her gaze away from checking the books in the crates to look up.
“Who’s that?”
“Your mother.”
Jolin shielded her eyes with her hands. “Can’t be. Mother never says goodbye.”
A deep foreboding washed over Lilette, with the distinct impression she’d never see these cliffs again.
Before midday, she stood in front of the Heads’ pavilion, watching Jolin and Doranna march ahead of her. “Do you know a man named Han?” Lilette asked Pescal.
He hesitated. “The Harshen prince?”
“Yes. Can you find a way to bring him word that I am here?”
“I’ll see it done.”
She moved to follow the others, but Pescal stepped up beside her and cleared his throat. “Lilette?”
She turned to him. He smiled, and his teeth were straight and white and perfect. “At the celebration tonight, there will be dancing. Might I dance with you?”
She smiled uncertainly. “I don’t know . . .”
“Just one.” His smile grew even bigger, and Lilette noticed dimples on his cheeks. When she didn’t immediately say no, he bowed to her. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you.”
He turned to go before she could find the words to tell him no. He was certainly handsome, especially from behind, but she really wasn’t interested. For one thing, he was far too pretty. And for another, he wasn’t Han. She stepped inside the pavilion. Jolin was already demonstrating the amber, and Garen was glaring at her.
“Oh, that’s amazing,” Merlay said.
Tawny watched them, a suspicious look on her face. “Will it work over long distances? Does the effect wear out over time?”
Jolin rubbed her hands together in barely restrained glee. “All of that will have to be tested, but the technique itself can be easily replicated.” Though only by Jolin, for Lilette knew she always left out a key ingredient to all the recipes for her potions.
The group chattered on excitedly, but Lilette tuned them out. She was tired of feeling dull from the tinctures Bethel had given her. Tired of using them to deaden her emotions.
Lilette felt a hand on her arm. Jolin shook her head and gave her a queer look. “I said Lilette was the person who finally pushed us all onto the right path. She deserves a small share of the credit.”
Lilette shot Jolin an exasperated look.
“What? One moment of inspiration doesn’t make up for a lifetime of study.”
Lilette rolled her eyes.
Jolin straightened. “Fine. A slightly larger share of the credit. Will that do?”
Lilette didn’t care either way, but it was fun to watch her friend squirm. “I believe it will.”
“Very well.”
Merlay watched the exchange with an amused crook of an eyebrow. “With all the trouble with Harshen, Grove City has been tense. Jolin’s discovery is just the thing to boast morale. The chesli will begin to bloom tonight, and the inner courts will open to everyone for dancing and singing. Before the feast, we’ll announce Jolin’s discovery.” Merlay turned to the four wastrels waiting off to the side. “See that they’re properly dressed.
Lilette moved closer to Merlay. “I would like to speak to you about Sash, in private.”
Merlay sighed and came down. They moved off to one side. “We’re doing everything we can,” she told Lilette.
“I want to help.”
Merlay studied her. “That’s part of the reason we called you here. I have a proposal for you, but Garen has been holding out—refusing to agree. That won’t be a problem anymore.”
Lilette glanced at Jolin’s beaming face. “You’re going to make her Head of Plants?”
“We don’t have much of a choice. Even if she’s not a full keeper.” Merlay rested her hand on Lilette’s arm. “Give me a few more hours to have everything settled and I’ll tell you my plan. We’ll go from there.”
Lilette nodded, relieved to be doing something besides sitting back and watching everyone else bumble about.
Doranna stepped toward them. “I’ll take care of Lilette.”
Merlay handed her a money purse. “Very well.”
“Come with me.” Doranna turned away.
While Jolin and Harberd went with one of the other wastrels, Lilette followed Doranna from the inner courts into the city proper. Lilette paused in front of a tree with large windows featuring beautiful dresses, but the cuts and styles seemed wrong and foreign. She had a strong sense she was of two worlds and yet belonged to neither. “Not this.”
Doranna hadn’t even paused to consider the shop. “Of course not.”
They wove through throngs of people, their excited chatter about the night’s events making their voices louder and fuller than normal. Doranna stopped in front of a smaller tree.
At the
familiar scent of incense, Lilette passed her and stepped inside. It was like coming home. Potted plants from the jungle, curved swords, jade combs . . . and linen sacks, the tops curled back to reveal a familiar grain. “Rice!” Lilette filled her hands with it.
A man came from the back of the shop. Seeing her, he called for his wife in Harshen. A woman emerged from behind a curtain. She wore the same style of cotton tunic and trousers that Lilette had worn most of her life.
Lilette mouth formed the familiar words of the Harshen language. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed rice.”
The woman’s face lit up. “You speak like one of us!”
Lilette smiled. “I am one of you.”
The woman’s studied her through slitted eyes, then her expression went wide. “Empress!” She dropped to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor three times. A beat behind her, her husband did the same. Lilette watched them so freely offer her such an honor, knowing she didn’t deserve it.
They sat back on their heels, eyes downcast, and Lilette gestured for them to rise. “Please, I would like a tunic and trousers to wear to the celebration tonight.”
The man rose to his feet. “I’m not sure I have the quality you require, Empress. Our silk is plain.”
Lilette sighed. “But it is silk.”
The man motioned for her to step behind the curtain. Amid the bolts of dyed silk, already-made tunics and trousers were draped across forms. There were three women’s sets—one in yellow, one green, and one a deep turquoise the color of the sky at dusk. Lilette fingers slipped across the silk. She had no more calluses on her palms to catch the fabric. “This one.”
She stepped into a changing room and dropped her tunic over her head. The silk whispered over her skin before settling around her curves. The woman helped her wrap a pleated belt around her waist. Lilette pulled out the ruby brooch from her jewels and let it hang from its delicate chain. She hoped the sight of it would please Han.
She came out of the room and knelt on a mat that had been placed out for her. The man came with a clay pot of tea. He poured hot water over the cups to warm them while the woman worked on Lilette’s hair.
The man placed the tea before her. Lilette lifted the fragrant cup to her nose and inhaled long and deep. She nodded in thanks and sipped her tea while the woman fixed her hair.
By then, the man had returned with a bamboo bowl of rice and vegetables with brown sauce and ginger. Lilette ate eagerly, her whole body sighing in relief at the familiar food.
The woman held up a mirror and waited while Lilette examined her hair. It was much simpler than what her eunuch had managed, but she liked it better. She pulled the comb Salfe had given her from her pouch and slid it in next to her scalp.
The woman prepared a pot of kohl and vermillion red. With a soft brush, she painted Lilette’s lips and darkened her nearly translucent eyebrows and lashes. When she was finished, Lilette found herself looking at a version of herself somewhere between a fisherman’s daughter and the empress she had been.
Doranna smiled approvingly. “You’re more at home like this.”
Lilette nodded. “I didn’t realize it before now, but Harshen is my home, despite all its faults.”
The other woman nodded sagely. “We feel the same way.”
“I too know what that is like,” Doranna said. She paid the couple while Lilette stepped into the twilight and inhaled deeply the delicate honey scent on the air.
Dropping coins into her pouch, Doranna stepped up beside her. “It won’t be long before Merlay begins the feast.”
They joined the throng of people flowing uphill like a backward stream into the inner courts.
“Do you know what Merlay has in store for me?” Lilette asked.
Doranna wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I have an idea, but it’s best not to speculate. Just enjoy one night of being a witch and let tomorrow take care of itself.”
As soon as Lilette passed the barbed bushes, she started searching for Han. As evening descended, the small, white, bell-shaped buds of the climbing vines eased open, their stamens glowing golden. “What are they?” Lilette asked.
“Chesli,” Doranna replied. “It only blooms once a year on a moonless night. The pollen extends the life of a potion indefinitely.”
Amid the gaiety and laughter, strains of ethereal music were carried on a gentle breeze. The wastrels bent their backs to the harvest. Their glowing, pollen-speckled robes made them look like ghosts in the dim light.
Lilette paused to watch them, an unnamed discontent squatting on her tongue. Then the crowd pressed in on her and she glanced around, realizing she’d lost Doranna. Lilette searched as she was jostled to and fro, pressed in on from all sides. She was trapped. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Ever since she’d been trapped in a barrel for an entire night, she could not abide tight spaces.
She spotted Doranna through the crowd. Lilette called to her, tried to make her way closer, but the crowd kept pushing her back. Just when she’d truly started to panic, Pescal appeared at her side, that adorable patch of hair sticking up. “You look like you could use some help.”
She pointed to Doranna. “My friend is over there.”
His brow furrowed before he shook his head. “We won’t make it through that. Come on.”
Relieved, Lilette allowed him to take her elbow. “Doranna will worry.” She had to shout to be heard over the din.
He glanced back at her. “She’ll be all right. Come on.” He pushed his way expertly through. In no time, they’d reached the pavilion, which was laden with tables of food. The Heads stood at the top of the steps, looking down on the crowd.
Jolin stood off to the side, a smug look on her face. Garen’s eyes were red rimmed and swollen as if she’d been crying.
Merlay spread her arms. “The first day of the chesli harvest is for food and dancing.”
As one, all four Heads bowed and the music changed from haunting to a lively dancing song. Lilette couldn’t see Han anywhere.
Pescal grabbed her hand and hauled her up the stairs. They were among the first to reach the tables laden with a feast of fruits, vegetables, and pastries. After piling food onto two large, stiff leaves that Lilette had no doubt had been sung for this very purpose, Pescal managed wrangle her past the guardians keeping watch on the Head’s private gardens. They wove past important-looking people and found a spot to sit among the white flowers.
Lilette took her first bite of fruit, the juice and sour sweetness exploding on her tongue. They ate fruits she had never tasted before—and never the same one twice. Pescal regaled her with stories of famous guardians, his manner jovial. Every once in a while, he absently tried to smooth down his cowlick, but it stubbornly stuck right back up again.
Between the food and the laughter, Lilette forgot her worry over losing sight of Doranna. Feeling safe with Pescal, she kept an eye out for Han, hoping he’d know where to look for her.
When Pescal finished eating, he tossed his leaf plate out of sight. “You can eat them, but I’m stuffed.”
Lilette was too busy watching the path from the pavilion to reply.
“Are you looking for someone, Lilette?” Pescal asked.
Lilette focused on him. “I’m sorry. I thought Han would have found me by now. Would you help me look for him?”
Pescal’s grin faded. “Lilette, would I be correct in assuming you have feelings for the man?”
She didn’t deny it.
He looked away. “Then I am sorry to say, he did not wish to see you.”
The fruit Lilette had been holding slipped from her fingers and landed with a wet plop in her lap. “What?”
Pescal gently removed the fruit, which had left a dark splotch on her robes. He wetted a handkerchief and pressed it into her hands. “I am sorry. He said there is too much between you.”
Her hands curled into a fist around the fabric, rivulets of moisture running between her fingers as the hurt washed over her, settling deep into he
r bones—so deep she wasn’t sure she could ever shake it.
Pescal grinned wryly. “And here I was hoping to have a good time with such a beautiful woman.”
She stared absently at the dark stain on her robes before daubing at it with the handkerchief.
Pescal sighed and handed her his cup. “Here, try this.”
When she didn’t take it, he held it to her lips. “It will help.”
She held and sipped the drink, which tasted of sweet melons with a tangle of citrus and pear. She finished off the entire cup. He was right—she did feel better. Sort of floaty and warm.
He reached for her hand and helped her up. “You promised me a dance, remember?” He twirled her around and they danced. Lilette didn’t know the steps, but she picked them up quickly, laughing when she stumbled and fell into him.
He caught her against his chest. Before she knew what was happening, he bent down and kissed her. “You taste like melons!” Laughing, he pulled back and twirled her around before she could process what had just happened.
Dizzy, she backed away from him. “Stop, I can’t breathe.”
Pescal gave her a mock bow. “Then I shall bring you something to revive you and we shall dance again.”
She watched as he trotted away, his hand on the sword at his waist to keep it from bouncing.
A breeze picked up and she leaned into it, grateful for the coolness against her damp forehead and the smell of crushed flowers and sap. Closing her eyes, she lay back and closed her eyes, the flowers soft as a bed beneath her. She turned her head to see if Pescal was coming back from the pavilion yet. There was no sign of him.
Everything was swaying gently in the breeze, so Han’s stillness caught her attention almost immediately. He stood with his back against a nearby tree, his gaze intense. The smile melted from Lilette’s face and something lurched within her. Had he seen the kiss? Part of her hoped he had, wanted him to see her with someone else. She pushed herself to her feet.
Han strode toward her, power in his gait. When he stood before her, he searched her gaze and the gentleness she’d seen before was gone, replaced with a wall she knew she’d never scale. The breeze washed over them, bringing Lilette the steel and leather smell of him.