by Amber Argyle
Lilette’s head came up in surprise. There was nothing Jolin treasured more than her books.
Suddenly, Han took a deep breath and opened his eyes. His hazy gaze searched the darkness before finding her.
A small sound of joy cracked her throat. “Han!”
His eyes were bright and wide. “Lilette.”
Her hands fluttered over him, wanting to touch him, but not daring to. She finally took his face between her palms. “Does it hurt?”
He spit out the wad of herbs Jolin had put in his cheek. “Lilette—it’s not over yet.”
Tears pricked the back of her eyes. “Of course it’s not over. We have our whole lives before us.”
He slowly shook his head. “You cannot defeat Kalari. You must retreat.”
She smoothed back his hair. “I’ll let you work that out. You’re the great military mind.”
“I won’t be here.”
Something in Lilette tightened, so tight she was sure it would break her. She met Jolin’s gaze. “Fix him.”
“I can’t.”
Lilette snatched her arm, squeezing so hard Jolin winced. “You fixed me. You created potions and songs no one else could. You can fix him!”
Someone touched Lilette’s arm, and she whipped around, ready to pummel whoever had dared lay a hand on her, but it was Han. “She’s right,” he said, his face so chalky she barely recognized him. “I’m falling.”
Lilette took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Don’t. Please don’t.”
He wasn’t looking at her anymore. His face was distant, his gaze fixed on the stars above him. “I have fallen every day since the day I met you. Following a falling star.”
“Please.” She had hovered in the space between life and death before. If her mother had brought her back, she could bring back Han. Lilette closed her eyes. She’d never begged for anything, but she was begging now. Please, Mama, don’t take him from me.
“You always were my downfall,” he said softly. “I went willingly to it, and would do so again.”
A scream built in her chest, but she forced it down. “No. Fight it, Han. You’re the strongest man I know. The best man I know.”
He turned to her, a stillness stealing over his face. “Remember what I told you, little dragon? Fight the battles you can win. Retreat from the ones you cannot.”
The tension in his hand went soft, and his eyes grew unfocused. Something shattered in Lilette, wounding her so deep no one would ever heal it. “Han?” Her voice came out shaky and pleading.
She reached out and touched his face, his stubble scraping against the pads of her fingers. He felt alive. His flesh was warm and giving beneath her, but the emptiness in his eyes said something had gone. Whatever was left wasn’t Han. He had moved beyond her reach. All the fight went out of Lilette, and she collapsed on top of his body. Somewhere, someone was screaming, screaming, screaming.
It wasn’t until Lilette tasted blood on the back of her tongue that she realized it was her.
Chapter 40
Han was right. He did fall.
I believe he saw the pattern—that those who loved Lilette, truly loved her, always saved her life at the cost of their own. In the end, he accepted his fate long before his death. ~Jolin
Lilette rubbed her soil-caked thumb over her whole pendant. She leaned heavily on her cane as Galon settled the last shovel full of earth. Next to it, Fa’s grave had settled, becoming indistinguishable from the rest of the jungle floor.
Beside her, Jolin cried softy. Lilette couldn’t bring herself to. Crying meant she had accepted Han’s death, and she would never do so.
Days would pass and Han’s grave would look just like Fa’s. It was like they were never here. Never living and breathing and loving.
“Lilette?”
She turned to see Pan standing at the edge of the village, a bowl of fruit in her hands. She dropped it, mangoes and coconuts rolling around her feet. She rushed forward, a light coming on in her face. “It is you.” Then her gaze faltered over the new grave and she halted. “What happened?”
Lilette took a deep breath and let it out in a rush, but the words wouldn’t come. “I can’t . . .” She lifted her hands helplessly at her sides.
“Her husband died,” Jolin said for her.
Pan took the last step and enveloped Lilette in her arms. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did and for what you’ve been through. I’m sorry.”
Some of the pain Lilette had shoved behind a barrier of her own making leaked out, making her eyes tear. She shook her head. She couldn’t let this barrier fall, not if she was to keep going. She stepped away from Pan.
Beside her, Jolin shifted from one foot to the other. “Lilette, what are we going to do?”
“If Merlay survived, she won’t stop,” Galon added.
A shudder wracked Lilette so deep it rattled her bones. They wouldn’t even allow her time to grieve. “Tell them not to sing. No matter what, they can’t sing.”
Jolin took a step toward the beach, Galon shadowing her. He hadn’t left her side since they arrived. “I’ll tell Nassa to explain it to the others.”
All the wastrels and any witches to be found had gathered together around a shared fireplace the night before. The remaining guardians had taken up residence around them.
“I’ll be back,” Jolin promised. “I’ll only be gone a moment.”
It was as if she was afraid to leave Lilette’s side. As if the absence of one more person could possibly make a difference.
Jolin and Galon rushed toward the beach, where most of the refugees were, and headed to the fire where they’d spend the night with Han’s cooling body.
Pan searched her eyes and Lilette noticed her old friend’s deep and lasting pain—the same look Fa had carried with him every day of his life. Now they carried it too.
“We’re no longer the girls we were,” Lilette said.
Pan shook her head. “No, we’re not.” She hesitated. “Lilette, did the witches really sink Rinnish?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but she turned at the sound of footsteps. Jolin was leading a marching elite toward her. His uniform was ragged, and he didn’t have a weapon, but his pride was unmistakable. He dropped into his kowtows. “Empress, I’m the highest ranking elite to survive. I must know your orders.”
Pan gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Empress?”
Lilette nodded slowly, an answer to both of them. “We need weapons. Men who can fight.” She steeled herself. “Find them. Make them.”
His hand twitched. “Empress, there aren’t enough men. We have no ore to make weapons.”
Lilette closed her eyes. Han should be here, issuing these orders. Instead, he was dead. She looked up again. “Then make staffs and bows out of the trees. Find a wastrel named Doranna. She will help you train the women.”
The elite watched her, fear touching his features. “Empress, we cannot fight them. There are less than four hundred souls on this island.”
His words hit her like a punch to the gut. The witches had two thousand guardians—and they wouldn’t even need to use them. A dozen songs, perhaps less, and this island would slip beneath the waves like the last had. The only reason it hadn’t happened already was because Lilette had sunk Merlay’s ship.
The elite bowed to her. “Empress, we must retreat.”
“And go where?” she snapped. She remembered what Han had said. Fight the battles you can win, retreat from the ones you cannot. But they had nowhere else to go. “Their listeners and level sevens will find us.” She was suddenly angry, so angry it bled into the cavity left over by Han’s death. She held onto that anger, because anger didn’t hurt as much as pain.
She was a woman, and she would surrender like one, which is to say not at all.
“Are you certain they’ll come after us,” Pan asked quietly.
“Oh, yes,” Lilette breathed.
Jolin nodded. “Even if Merlay and Brine were dead, which I doubt,
Tawny won’t risk exposure.” She passed a hand over her eyes. “You burned the ship they’d stolen, not their other ship. They’re probably already looking for us.”
The elite’s jaw tensed. “How many days do we have?”
“Two. Three at the most,” Jolin replied.
“There has to be something,” Pan said in her quiet way, her gaze going between Jolin and Lilette. “You’re witches.”
Jolin cast her eyes heavenward, as if asking for help. “We have a handful of witches and a few dozen wastrels. What you’re asking would take hundreds.”
Lilette remembered her mother visiting her, pressing her lips to her forehead. And days afterward, her song had grown in strength, until it had moved beyond a level seven—perhaps even approaching the power the Creators themselves possessed.
Lilette gasped and held onto Jolin for support as one pattern after another clicked into place. Her mother had shown her Harshen sinking. Shown her wars and terrors that would bring the world to its knees. Lilette had thought she was meant to prevent all of that by saving her sister and the others from Chen. But now she understood. Those events were inevitable. She was only meant to preserve a portion of the keepers. To pave the way for another to take up the fight.
She realized Jolin was calling her name. They locked gazes, and the spark of all that had passed leapt between them and bound them together.
Lilette turned away from her and surveyed the others. “The veil.”
Jolin’s eyes went wide. “What?” Her mind seemed to catch up to what Lilette was implying, and she shook her head. “We can’t hide the entire island. And certainly not indefinitely.”
“No,” Lilette said. “We’re not going to hide the island. We’re going to hide all of them.”
“But—but that’s impossible! And who even knows how long it will last.”
Lilette squeezed Jolin’s arms. “You’ll find a way—you’re meant to. It’s why you’re with me, just as your mother said.”
“My mother?”
Lilette cupped her face. “She’s a part of this. We all are.”
Jolin rubbed her lips together, her gaze distant and intense—the look she got whenever she was concentrating. “I’ll need help.”
Lilette gestured to the shore. “You have four hundred people. What do you need to create the veil?”
Jolin nodded, a determined expression stealing over her face. She faced Pan and rattled off a list of plants.
“Yes. I can find them,” Pan replied.
“Go. Quickly,” Jolin said, then started marching off with the elite and Galon.
Lilette’s hand shot out, catching Jolin’s arm. “Wait.” Her hand went to her pendant. She always became lost after a tragedy. Bethel must have seen that, must have known it would be important that someone, somewhere, be able to find her. So she and Jolin had created the pendant. Lilette stroked the pendant once more, hating to part with something that had touched Han’s throat—even for a moment. Yet he had gone where it would never find him, and she didn’t need it anymore.
But perhaps someday, someone else would. Lilette pulled the pendant over her head and handed it to Jolin. “I want you to take this.”
Jolin gasped. “Lilette, I can’t—”
Lilette pressed it into her hands. “It was your mother’s gift to you as much as to me.” Lilette could see that wasn’t going to be enough. “I can’t bear its weight, not anymore,” she lied. “But I won’t see just anyone with it. Please.”
Jolin closed her mouth and slipped it over her head. With more tears filling her eyes, she turned and walked away.
Lilette faced the graves. “I can see what it is I’m meant to do,” she told Han and Fa. “And I know how to stop them.” Bending down, she rested her hand on Han’s grave. “Where you go, I go.” With that, she turned to limp after the others.
All day, Jolin and the surviving wastrels were in a flurry, gathering plants to make the potions required to form the veil. Lilette worked beside them—staying busy was the only way she remained sane.
Wounds were treated. Food was gathered. More people died. That night, Lilette found herself staring at the star-swept sky. But she didn’t look at the stars. She looked at the darkness between them. And she thought of Han.
Jolin sat beside her, knees drawn to her chest.
“Do you ever feel like it’s wrong?” Lilette asked.
Jolin turned to her, the firelight making a line across the side of her face. “What?”
Lilette didn’t look away from the sky. “Using the elements like this. They’re so strong, so powerful, and we bend them to our will, for good or evil. Just like we bent Jai Li to our will.”
“The elephant?” Jolin said. When Lilette didn’t answer, she sighed. “They aren’t alive.”
Lilette felt the connection with her witch sense throbbing inside her. “Aren’t they? Then why can I feel them writhing in pain during the hassacre?”
Pushing past her exhaustion, Lilette forced herself up to follow the witches gathering in the circle. Everything had happened for a reason. She was just a piece of the puzzle, and now she knew where she fit.
Jolin followed her to the center, wringing her hands together. “Are you sure this is wise? If we sing, it will draw them to us.”
Lilette nodded. “Are you sure we have enough of the powder?”
In answer, Jolin held out a large covered bowl.
Lilette peeked inside. “So this is the stuff you use to create the veil?”
“Yes. It takes song and this potion to make it work. Over the next few hours, the men will spread it across the beaches on the perimeter of the islands. Then you’ll spread it around when you’re airborne to seal it into a dome.” She took a deep breath. “But for now, you have to bring in the islands. What . . . what if you’re not strong enough?”
Doubt slivered inside Lilette. What if she was wrong? What if, after everything, they failed? “There’s nothing else we can do, Jolin.” Her voice faltered. ”Sometimes you just have to move.”
Jolin stepped back and joined the circle. Lilette was surrounded by witches and wastrels. She wasn’t sure the circle would be strong enough to launch her into the air, but she pushed her doubts aside and followed her own advice.
She nodded to them and they gripped hands. Their voices rising together, they sang. Lilette knew the listeners would hear this. But it had to be done. Their voices moved through her, their thoughts in her head. The wastrels were elated and terrified. They’d never been allowed to practice their magic—small as it might be.
More than one keeper was disgusted with the off-key singing. To them, it was tramping on something sacred. Lilette didn’t care. It didn’t work as well, but it was working. And that was all that mattered.
The first stirrings of wind thickened beneath her feet, but it wasn’t strong enough to take her up. Concentrate, Lilette commanded them silently. We need each other.
Follow my lead, Nassa said. She held herself rigid, her mouth open wide, the song coming from deep inside her. The wastrels copied her. And the notes might not have gotten any better, but their power certainly did.
The wind lifted Lilette’s robes, tugged at her hair. She felt light—light as a cherry blossom spinning on the wind. And then she was airborne, twisting and twirling up. Closer to the stars far above. She wanted to keep going, until she could finally touch the shadows between the stars. But she forced herself to concentrate, to find that hum beneath her breastbone where her power resided. As their songs filled her with more power, she stretched her witch senses out, grasping onto each island.
When she opened her mouth, she sang, and it seemed even the moon in the sky stopped spinning so it might listen.
Harshen, raise thy stakes.
Winds, a path to make.
Earth, compact thy soil.
Plants, thy roots uncoil.
Waters, thy waves divide.
Islands line up, side by side.
Even with the power humming through her,
filling her with light until it looked like day, it took her singing until her voice was hoarse before the other islands of Harshen began to appear. All of them flashed into sight, all of them close enough to reach by a good swimmer. It would have to be enough.
The circle slowly sang her down and then it broke apart.
“You did it,” Jolin said in awe as she handed Lilette a cup of tea.
She rubbed her scratchy throat. Not wanting to risk speaking, she nodded. Boats were immediately dispatched with the powder, which was to be spread along all their shores. They had until morning to see it done. If they failed, all they’d accomplished was making themselves easier targets for the witches.
Chapter 41
Sometimes I hate her for choosing Han over me. It’s selfish. It’s weak. But knowing that doesn’t stop the anger from flaring up so strongly I choke on it. ~Jolin
“Ships!” someone shouted. “On the horizon!”
No sooner had the cry gone out than clouds rolled across the sky. Lilette glanced up, at the lightning flashing beneath them.
“They’re here!” Jolin echoed the words ringing through Lilette’s head.
“Run for cover!” Guardians and elite cried out, ushering people off the shore and deeper into the jungle.
“Is the powder in place?” Lilette asked. Not all of the men had checked in yet.
Jolin shoved a pot of it into her hands. “We’re about to find out!”
Witches and wastrels ran toward them, grasping hands, fear and hope mingling on their faces.
Once again they sang, and once again Lilette twirled into the sky. At the apex, she tugged the lid off the last of the powder. The witches sang again, and Lilette spun so fast she was certain she was going to be sick. But it worked. The powder swirled around her, shimmering a poisonous purple as it plumed out over the sky. The other witches shifted their song, adding their strength to Lilette’s.
The power built inside her, slowly filling her up. The other ship was just offshore now—close enough Lilette could make out the witches from the guardians. The clouds billowed in, thicker and heavier.