by Amber Argyle
Squaring herself, Lilette marched toward a large tree. The smooth expanse of bark seemed to mock her.
“Lilette,” Doranna whispered, “we should go back.”
Closing her eyes again, Lilette pressed the flat of her hands against the tree. Her witch senses combed it, searching for something different. “It’s hollow.”
“Of course it’s hollow,” Doranna said. “All the trees are.”
Lilette opened her eyes. “This part of the tree isn’t alive.”
Han stepped up beside her. “What are you saying?”
Her searching fingers found a lip. “I’m saying this is a door.”
Bracing herself, she pushed. It swung soundlessly forward, revealing a sliver of blackness. After glancing back at the others, Lilette slipped inside. They came in behind her, and Han pushed the door closed. Lilette couldn’t see much, but far below there was a purple glow. Bracing one arm against the side of the tree, she felt the floor with her foot. It disappeared abruptly before her. Gingerly, she stepped down. “They’re stairs. Come on,” she whispered.
They moved toward the light, which shifted from purple to green and sent waves of fear through her that made her heart pound. Finally, she stepped into a huge cavern with the base of the tree serving as the roof. In the center was an opaque sphere in a shifting miasma of pastels. A strong sense of wrongness emanated from it.
A deep instinct warned Lilette to turn and run from this place. Here, there was no dawn—no warmth and light to chase away the shadows. Nothing but emptiness and death, like a soul forced to remain in its rotting corpse for all eternity.
She stretched out her hand to touch the sphere, but Doranna pulled her back. “Don’t.”
Lilette glanced around at shelves of books and tables with potions. She paced to a table, picked up a vial, and sniffed the contents. She quickly jerked back at the rotten egg smell.
Doranna stared at the sphere, sweat beading her brow. “There is something so wrong about this.”
A sudden wave of discord slammed into Lilette and she pitched back, coming up hard against one of the tables and knocking something over. She gritted her teeth.
Han gripped her shoulders. “We need to get out of here.”
Lilette glared at the sphere. “What is it?” She turned to right whatever she’d tipped over, but froze, her hands hovering above an open book. “No.”
She leaned forward, scanning the pages. Her eyes widened before she snapped the book shut and stuffed it down her robes. She took a handful of vials and shoved them into her pockets. “We need to go, now.”
She was already running for the stairs. Han jogged behind her. “Why, what—”
She didn’t slow down. “It’s a barrier! If the witches inside stop singing, it will come down and they’ll see us.”
“But barriers are cylinders. That’s a sphere,” Doranna protested.
Lilette didn’t bother answering. When they were halfway up the stairs, the light shattered, leaving them in complete darkness. They could hear indistinct voices.
Her mouth pressed in a thin line, Lilette concentrated on moving quietly. They reached the door and Doranna pulled it open, letting in a stream of moonlight that Lilette hoped didn’t alert those below to their presence.
They darted into the night. “Split up and hide,” Han hissed.
He took Lilette’s hand, but she resisted. “I have to see.”
He pulled her into the brush, ducking behind a plant with huge, deeply scalloped leaves. Lilette peeked over the top as eight women streamed out and began to go their separate ways. She strained to make out their faces, but they were swathed in shadow.
One woman reached out and grasped the arm of another. “Merlay, wait.”
Lilette stifled her gasp. Merlay turned.
“What will we tell everyone?”
Merlay ran a hand down her face. “The only one thing we can tell them—that they’re dead.”
Lilette couldn’t hear anything over the rush in her ears. She knew who they were speaking of. Knew it in her core.
Her sister was dead. They were all dead.
She thought of the sister she’d never know. Of the witches who’d stayed behind so the rest of them might escape. Her throat made a strangled sound. Han pressed his hand over her mouth and held her tight against him.
Merlay glanced around, as if looking for the source of the sound, but the others were already leaving. After a moment, she turned to follow them.
“It’s my fault,” Lilette whispered through her tears. “I numbed myself to the pain when I should have been fighting.”
Han held her against his chest to muffle her sobs.
Chapter 30
Regrets are like a parasite living inside you. You have to find a way to stop feeding them or they eat you alive. ~Jolin
Lilette sat beside the window in Sash’s house, watching the chesli flowers curl shut and the moths flutter away, watching the night die in the morning light. She felt as if a part of her had died with it. Her hand rested on the book she’d found. She hadn’t looked at it again—she couldn’t bear to.
Han sat in silence across from her. Someone else might have said he was sorry and tried to console her with words or gestures. Han just stayed close, sharing Lilette’s grief with her.
When morning finally came, she tucked the book back into her tunic and stood.
“Where are you going?” Han asked.
She strode toward the door. “To find answers.”
Doranna had finally gone to sleep upstairs, and Lilette had no desire to wake her. She stepped into the weak morning light. Han came up behind her and checked his sword before strapping his baldric over his chest.
Together they walked up the path. People gave them strange looks as they passed. Lilette hadn’t bothered to change her clothes or wash her face. Her eyes were probably smeared with kohl, and her hair had fallen from its bun to lay in messy waves around her shoulders. With his armor and his impassive face, Han looked the part of the warrior.
The pavilion was empty, so they strode to Merlay’s tree. Lilette didn’t knock, she just thrust open the door. A wastrel with a smudge of flour on her nose hurried into the front room but stuttered to a halt when she saw Lilette and Han.
“I will see her. Now,” Lilette demanded, her voice shaking.
Just as the wastrel began telling them to leave, Jolin stepped into view. Lilette wasn’t surprised to see her. She blinked sleep from her eyes. “Lilette, Han, what are you—”
Lilette held out the book she’d found—the one Jolin had written. “How many of us have you betrayed?”
Jolin’s face went deathly pale. “Bani, go away.”
The wastrel disappeared back the way she’d come. Jolin dropped her gaze and started up the winding stairs, Lilette and Han silently following. At the second floor, she knocked on the door. “Lilette is with me. She knows.”
Several seconds later, Merlay walked out wearing a dressing gown. Lilette took a vicious pleasure in her matted hair and bloodshot eyes. She held up the book. “You’ve found a way to hide your songs from the others. And you attacked Harshen last night.”
Merlay didn’t deny it as Lilette had expected. The Head of Light just sighed, her shoulders sagging as if the load she carried was too heavy to bear. “Bani,” she called down the stairs, “please bring us some tea.”
She asked Lilette and Han to follow her and strode to another room, a library. She crossed the room to step onto a balcony surrounded by flowers. A branch bridge connected the balcony to the listening tree. Merlay stared out over the city as the morning light glinted off the tops of the trees and shone on the distant sea. “I’m sorry,” she said to Lilette. “It was a very long night last night. I’m very tired.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Lilette said. “You attacked Harshen—I felt it.”
Merlay sighed. “I did.”
It took everything Lilette had to control her rage. “You killed my sister?”
Merlay t
urned to face them, tears streaking down her face. “The emperor did. He killed all of them.”
Lilette staggered back, and Han said, “No. Chen is many things, but he isn’t a murderer.”
Merlay looked at him. “Our spies confirmed it. They were all killed yesterday evening, just after the chesli harvest began.”
Suddenly, Lilette found it very hard to remain standing. She slumped into a chair. She’d been feasting in the pavilion, trying to climb into the nearest man’s lap, while her sister had her head cut from her body? How had Lilette not felt it? How had she not known that a part of her had died?
Han hadn’t moved from his place by the door. “What did you do?”
Merlay looked away, as if she couldn’t bear the sight of Lilette in pain. “We shook the city to its knees.”
“And Chen?” Lilette choked out.
Merlay glanced at her. “Our spies have searched what remains of the palace. I think it’s safe to say you are a widow now.”
“Chen wouldn’t do this,” Han repeated, but this time without conviction.
Lilette buried her face in her hands. “I watched him kill his wife.”
She felt Han’s gaze on her. “He saved her the humiliation of a public execution,” he said. “Gave her the chance to be buried by her father instead of sold for curses.”
Lilette shook her head. They were brothers. Even if Chen was guilty, Han would naturally stand up for him, believe the best of him. She refused to dwell on the fact that Han’s brother had killed her sister.
Jolin finally spoke up from behind them. Lilette had almost forgotten she was there. “You see why I had to help them?”
Lilette refused to look at Jolin.“You’ve never used that barrier before?” Lilette asked.
“It’s called the veil. They couldn’t,” Jolin said. “They didn’t even know about my research into barriers until a few months ago.”
Lilette directed her words at Merlay. “Why keep their deaths a secret? Why not tell everyone—why not tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want to ruin the celebration. Because we wanted to respond without the burden of public debate. Because I couldn’t bear to spoil your first chesli harvest.”
Lilette sagged. When she’d seen the book in Jolin’s handwriting, when she’d realized what the witches were doing, she’d assumed they were secretly cursing Harshen. She’d been wrong. “That veil—it’s offensive. Evil even.”
“I designed it that way,” Jolin spoke up, “to repel anyone who happened to stumble upon it.”
“Surely you knew I could sense it,” Lilette said to Merlay.
“I was informed of your . . . condition . . . by the guardians. I didn’t think you’d have the awareness to realize what was going on.”
“That’s another thing,” Han growled. “What that man did to her—”
Merlay cut him a look. “Believe me, he will be severely punished.”
Lilette stared at the harbor, ships coming and going as if the world wasn’t falling apart. “Why not make the counterattack public?”
“That’s . . . complicated.” Merlay said.
Lilette glared at her. “I think I can handle it.”
“Because if the world begins to view witches as weapons, they’ll start using us as such. From greedy rulers down to jaded farmers, they’ll know they can capture one of us and torture her until we do their bidding. How can we stop it? We risk becoming slaves to the very people we rule.”
“That’s why you did it,” Lilette said. “Because Chen was using his captives to sing a counter-curse. You couldn’t let the world know that. Couldn’t let them know that with their own group of witches, they don’t need you—that you couldn’t stop them.”
If she hadn’t been drugging herself, she would have realized all of this from the beginning. Perhaps she couldn’t have changed anything, but perhaps she could have. Now she would never know.
Lilette closed her eyes as she imagined her sister’s terrible death. “What did Chen do to them?”
Merlay’s head dropped. “Our spies have indicated that Sash and the others turned on Chen. Most of them died in the aftermath, and some killed themselves when they realized they couldn’t escape. There were only two left—we don’t know who. He had them beheaded.”
Han was staring out the window in the direction of Harshen, his face troubled. But he didn’t argue.
Merlay moved to sit behind her desk. “Jolin, Han, if you will wait outside, I need to speak with Lilette alone.”
After they had gone, Merlay studied Lilette over her steepled fingers. “We now find ourselves dealing with a conquered nation, a ruined city, and a downtrodden people.”
Lilette could well imagine the devastation. She’d seen Rinnish destroyed before.
“I don’t have the time or the inclination to mince words,” Merlay went on. “Harshen is in need of a new ruler. I’d like that ruler to be you.”
Lilette gaped at her. “Women don’t rule in Harshen. They don’t have any power at all.”
“Well, perhaps it’s time you changed that. If the Harshens want rain, if they want their seeds to sprout, they will do what I tell them to.”
Lilette’s insides seemed to sink into a puddle around her feet. “You want Harshen at your mercy.”
“They are already at our mercy,” Merlay huffed. “You would be a good candidate. You’re already their empress, and they consider you one of them. But you are also one of us.”
Lilette fisted her hands at her sides. “All I’ve ever wanted was for my sister to be safe. Beyond that, I wanted to be a keeper—the best of them.” And she just couldn’t give up on that dream.
Merlay inclined her head. “We can send you a tutor. Nassa has been begging for the job. And you’ll have the opportunity to really change things for the better. How can you refuse?”
Lilette rubbed her temples to try to stop the headache forming behind her eyes. “If anyone should rule Harshen, it should be Han. He’s the best man I know.”
Merlay’s gaze shifted to the window, which overlooked the Heads’ garden, the circle, and beyond that, the city itself. “He doesn’t have the ties to the keepers that you do. But . . . it would strengthen your claim as empress to have one of the emperor’s sons as your consort.”
Lilette’s heart fluttered in her chest. “I’m not sure Han would agree.”
Merlay chuckled. “He risked his life, betrayed his country and his brother for you—a man doesn’t do that unless he’s hopelessly in love.
“He never betrayed his country.” She tried to think past the shock of Merlay’s proposal. “If I agree, Harshen would be free of the keepers?”
“If they stay in line, yes.”
“What do you mean, stay in line? Harshen will never be a puppet nation. They are too scattered and too stubborn.”
Merlay lifted her brows. “As long as they pose no threat to Kalari and pay Vorlay for the loss of their armada, they’ll be free.”
From what Merlay was telling her, in the end Lilette would have everything she’d ever wanted. “I’ll do it.”
Merlay pushed up from her chair and headed toward the door. “Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do before we announce this at the chesli harvest. Why don’t you take one of the guest rooms downstairs? It’ll be easier if you’re close, and you look like you’ve had less sleep than I have.”
Lilette followed her into the hall. Jolin and Han were nowhere to be seen. “No. I’ll stay at my sister’s home. Besides, I won’t be able to sleep.”
Merlay went into her room, which was filled with tasteful furnishings and muted colors. She opened a side drawer beside her bed and took out a bottle with familiar-looking sprigs of herbs inside.
Lilette met the other woman’s gaze. “A sleeping tincture?”
Merlay nodded and Lilette took the bottle wordlessly. Her head was pounding, and it took every remaining bit of her strength to keep her emotions at bay. She descended the stairs just as the wastrel went
up with a tray of tea and scones. Her face fell when she saw Lilette.
“I’m sorry it took so long. Would you like breakfast with your tea?”
Lilette mouth watered, but she now believed Bethel and would never eat anything she hadn’t seen prepared. “No. Thank you.”
Jolin was waiting for her in the receiving room, her expression pensive. “Lilette, I’m sorry.”
Lilette couldn’t respond at first. “I’ll see you tonight.” She left the tree, shutting the door behind her. Once outside, she glanced around to make sure no one was watching and tossed the tincture into the foliage.
Chapter 31
Did she ever forgive me? ~Jolin
Lilette smoothed her silk robe. It was gorgeous, with images of the sinuous, five-clawed dragon in black and gold. Doranna set a headdress inlaid with gems and turquoise on her head, strands of clinking pearls dangling past her ears.
She already wore the ruby brooch and the dragon ring. Wearing a copy of Laosh’s ring made her cringe, but Merlay had insisted.
It had taken nearly every Harshen craftsman Merlay could scrounge up to create this ensemble. And they all had orders for more. Dozens of robes, a smaller headdress, slippers, even little things like pots of kohl and scrolls for Lilette’s mandates.
“You must look the part,” Merlay had said when she inspected Lilette earlier. “They have to feel you’re above them if they’re ever to follow you.”
Lilette hadn’t liked that, but she hadn’t bothered arguing.
Doranna touched her arm, startling Lilette. “You’re ready.” Doranna opened the door to Merlay’s library, and they stepped inside.
Outside, night had fallen. The chesli flowers on the balcony were open, and moths and other night insects flocked from one to the next. A trail of glowing pollen drifted from their wings and lent an otherworldly glow to the inner city.
Lilette slipped forward, keeping out of sight behind the chesli flowers. On the balcony on the opposite side of the woven-branch bridge was the listening tree. All four Heads were there—Jolin with them.
