by Amber Argyle
Lilette wasn’t sure how, but the palace still stood, looking vulnerable with only the east ramparts to safeguard it. Even the stone dragons remained.
Lilette leaned toward Han. “Where are the eunuchs—the concubines? Surely some of them survived.”
Han’s gaze was fixed on the harem. “The guardians already swept the palace grounds. They were abandoned.”
“Where would they go?” Lilette asked.
Han made a sound low in his throat. “My guess is they’re either hiding in the city or dead. I’ll put out feelers with some of my friends and see if I can’t hear anything.”
She hesitated. “And Chen?”
Han let out a deep breath. “They haven’t found a body.”
“What if he’s still alive?”
Han studied her for a long time. “I’ve considered it.”
“And?”
One side of his mouth crooked up. “It won’t change anything, little dragon.”
A sad smile curved the corners of her mouth. She reached out and took Han’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you.”
She dismounted and turned to face the two hundred wastrels and the few Harshen-born women she had managed to round up. “You may see to it now.”
The women started toward the palace or the outer edges of the palatial compound. Lilette had promised them a life in Harshen if they stayed with her. She’d been surprised how many of them had eagerly agreed.
“Where are they going?” Merlay asked in disbelief.
Lilette hid her smile. The wastrels answered to her now. “To prepare the wedding feast.” And also to clean up the palace, but that didn’t sound as grand. She flashed a smile at Han. “Let’s announce my presence to the city.”
He took her arm to help her over the rubble-strewn courtyard to the stairs that crisscrossed the east walls. At the top, she gazed out over the city. She didn’t see a single Harshen, but she knew they were watching.
A crier announced her as the empress and brought out the empress’s crown with six bobins. He spoke the words that would bind her to Han.
A new emperor was supposed to hand out sweet things to bless the people—oranges or sweet rolls, perhaps. Lilette didn’t have that—she had something better. She wasn’t sure how the Harshens would react to her song. She just hoped they didn’t storm the palace, because the guardians and the witches would put them down.
Lilette had planned to ask the witches to gather in a circle and sing. But the familiar stirring was in her breast. She didn’t need them.
She sang out for the wind. From all around the compound, wastrels threw seeds into the air. The wind caught them and carried them out over the city. Taking a deep breath, Lilette sang again, but this time it was a song of growing.
All over the city, thousands of seeds took root between cobblestones and courtyards. In the muddy slums by the docks, stalks of rice shot to the sky. In the courtyards and open green, mango and pear trees took root, their bows filling the air with fragrance before bowing heavily with fruit. Vegetables grew in the marketplace. Wheat sprouted up between the cobblestones.
By the time Lilette had finished her song, the city had grown a fat harvest. Lilette sang.
Eat and be filled,
For tonight I wed your prince.
The people didn’t cheer. They didn’t call out. But a few ventured into the sunlight. They gathered the armfuls of food before disappearing again.
Satisfied she’d done all she could, Lilette started back down the stairs. Her eyes scanned the guardians, passing over a familiar face and a telltale cowlick before her gaze whipped back. But he was gone.
“What’s wrong?” Han asked.
Lilette breathed out. It had to have been someone that just looked like Pescal. He couldn’t be here. Shaking it off, she smiled at Han. “Nothing. It was nothing.”
Inside the palace, she’d had the wastrels arrange a feast, nothing as extravagant as her wedding feast with Chen, but it was the best she could do.
They sat down to fruits and vegetables in a room that had been picked clean of even the low tables. Lilette grieved for all the lost silk screens and intricate statues. The only ones still remaining were the great stone dragons before the palace—and those only because they were too heavy to lift.
They sat on the wooden floor, eating off leaf plates and drinking out of tin cups in a room that smelled of smoke and death. And yet Lilette was happy. Against all odds, she had finally married the man she loved.
As evening fell, Han helped her to her feet and they bid everyone goodnight. He led her up the stairs to the fourth story. “This entire floor is yours now.”
It had once been opulent—evidence of that was everywhere. Now, it had been looted to the bare walls. The wastrels had rolled out a couple reed mats. That was it.
Lilette walked to the windows, looking out over the city as sadness and guilt assaulted her, for she’d been part of this destruction—unwilling or not.
Han rested a calloused hand on her shoulder. “Not everything was ruined. Come with me.” He turned and led the way to a silk screen.
She stood before it, but he only stared at her as if she wasn’t real, as if at any moment a puff of wind would take her away. Self-conscious, she wrapped her arms around herself. “Well, are you going to open it or not?”
He grinned—something she’d never seen before. It pulled at his scar tissue, tugging his eye down and twisting his face. He was not beautiful, and she was glad. She didn’t trust beautiful things.
He pushed open the screen, and Lilette was suddenly overcome with the scent of growing things. She breathed in a gasp. It was a potted garden, and despite the drought in the city, this had obviously been well-tended. A few plants had been tipped over, but there was nothing here of value to the looters, so they’d left it mostly untouched.
She took a few steps inside and stopped to smell a gardenia, its sweet fragrance making her eyes slip closed in pleasure. She turned slowly toward Han. He held out his hand and opened his fist. Something fell out, swinging from a chain. As she took a step closer, her mouth came open in surprise. It was the crescent of amber from the pendant Bethel had split. Now it was attached to a silver backing instead of gold, and instead of the sun . . . “It’s the moon!”
He clasped it around Lilette’s neck, the long chain allowing the pendant to dangle between her breasts. “It’s the token of the emperor,” he explained. “That’s why I told you to keep it. As long as you had this, you had a claim to the empire.”
Han lifted up his piece—the larger one—from underneath his shirt. “I told you I would follow you anywhere. Now I can.”
She took a step toward him and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss quickly went from soft to something more, something deeper, and Lilette had no intentions of stopping.
Chapter 34
I never saw Han and Lilette kiss in public. Never even saw them embrace. Yet they communicated more in a glance, in a simple touch, than anyone ever shared in more amorous ways. ~Jolin
A hand rested on Lilette’s shoulder, shaking her softly. But Han felt so good lying next to her. Solid, strong. For the first time in a long time, she was safe. Then she realized both of his arms were wrapped around her body. With a cry of warning, her eyes shot open. By the time she was halfway up, Han had bolted to his feet, a look of death leaping from his eyes.
But Lang only glanced up impassively at Han before his gaze was back on her. “You must come with me.”
“My mother?” Han said breathlessly.
“She’s fine. I’ve hidden her in the city.”
“I want to see her,” he demanded.
Lang stood. “Then you better hurry.”
Han didn’t put away his sword. “And why should I trust you?”
“I saved your mother’s life,” Lang replied. “Isn’t that enough?”
In answer, Han passed Lilette a pair of his dark trousers and a tunic. “What’s going on?” she demanded as she donned the clothing.
The world seemed to tilt. Han’s hand shot out to steady her. “What?”
“I have proof. If you’ll come with me.”
“Why can’t you just tell us now?” Han pulled his helmet over Lilette’s pale hair and strapped on the faceguard.
“Because you won’t believe until you see for yourself.” Without waiting for a response, Lang trotted to the rail that surrounded the garden. A thin rope dangled from a grappling hook.
“You climbed four stories?” she asked in surprise.
Lang grunted. “You need to speak to these guardians about security.”
Lilette looked far below them and felt dizzy. “I’m the empress. We can just go through the front door.”
“You have no idea the danger you’re in,” Lang scoffed as he swung his leg over the side. “Can you climb?”
Lilette peeked over the edge. “Um . . .”
Lang turned to Han. “Tie one end to her and we’ll lower her down.” They tied the rope around her middle and slowly lowered her to the gardens behind the palace. She hid herself behind a dying bush—obviously this garden hadn’t been as well-tended as the one above.
The two men came after her in no time, and the three of them took off at a run through the destroyed garden. At the ramparts, they simply scrambled beneath a triangular space left by two sections of wall. A short run down the rise, and they were in the city. Everything was eerily silent and deserted.
Lang led them through mangled streets until Lilette was hopelessly lost, but judging by the grim look on Han’s face, he knew where they were.
Finally, they arrived at a modest home that was more or less standing. Hand on the door, Lang paused. “You must promise to remain silent when you see what’s inside. I can’t risk attracting attention.”
Lilette nodded, and Lang opened the door to the modest home. Ko rose from the low cushions, which were surprisingly elegant. She rushed to Han and embraced him. He held her, a look of profound relief on his face.
But Lilette’s gaze was locked on Salfe—the boy from her village who’d been banished for trying to help her escape her betrothal to Bian. Unconsciously, her hand went to the comb Salfe had given her, her fingers tracing the ridges on the jade.
He strode toward her before his gaze shifted to Han and the joy bled out of him.
“You’re alive!” Lilette managed to say. “I don’t understand.”
Ko grasped Lilette’s hand. “I want you to know how glad I am for you—both of you.”
“Ko,” Lang said almost apologetically, resting his hand on her arm.
She took a step back. “You’re right, there isn’t time. This way.” She pulled back a worn but clean curtain hanging across the doorway. Lang stepped through first. Following him, Lilette gasped at the stench of rotting meat that assailed her. She lifted her arm to her nose and took shallow breaths through her sleeve. It was a small room. She leaned to the side to look around Lang.
What she saw sent her whirling around and reaching for Han’s sword. Before she could pull it free, he shoved her aside and strode into the room, his sword snaking free of its scabbard, but then he froze. Lilette scrabbled for his knife and lunged forward, but Lang caught her and deftly twisted it from her grip.
From the pile of rushes, Chen laughed. Trapped in Lang’s arms, Lilette cursed him, using every vile word she’d ever heard.
“You swore to keep silent,” Lang hissed.
Lilette gritted her teeth as Chen’s laugh shifted into a cough that rattled around in his lungs.
Han’s sword slowly fell to the side. “How?”
Lilette thrashed against Lang, but he rode her assault out. “He’s nearly dead anyway! Stop!”
She went limp, the murder leaking out of her. “Why? Why would you help him?”
Lang released her but stayed between her and Chen. “I found him when I went searching for survivors. We dragged him here under cover of dark days ago.”
“His legs are crushed,” Ko said.
Lilette realized the stench was coming from Chen. The thought made her gag.
Lang’s gaze rested on her. “And I helped him because I wanted to know what happened the night the witches destroyed us.”
“You need to hear what he has to say, Lilette,” Ko added softly. Lang handed the knife back to Han, hilt first.
Lilette wiped her arm across her mouth. “Fine. Speak. Then I’m going back to the palace and returning with a contingent of guardians to arrest all of you.”
Chen’s dark gaze was fixed on her. “In my tenth year, my father received a very important guest. She bade us orchestrate the deaths of one Lellan, and her daughter, Lilette.”
Speaking seemed to wear him out. He reached for a cup beside him. Ko rushed forward to help him drink. After only one swallow, Chen lay back, clearly exhausted. “Success would guarantee us prosperity the likes of which few empires ever see. Failure meant a disaster of our own—one that would destroy all our people.”
Lilette knew what he was implying. Anger surged through her, so strong it nearly swept her away. She braced herself until it ebbed. “I don’t believe you.”
“Despite what you may think of my father,” Chen went on weakly, “he didn’t relish the idea of murdering a little girl. He came up with another plan—simply faking the witches’ deaths and adding them to his harem. The woman would be his. The girl would go to me when I came of age.”
“And having a witch as a wife was no motivation,” she said angrily.
“To add the power of witches to our line seemed like a good idea at the time.” Chen’s gaze went to Han. “My younger brother overheard my father being ordered to kill you. He warned your parents, and you all fled into the night.”
Lilette couldn’t stop shaking her head. “It’s a lie.”
Chen went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “No ship can catch one sung by a witch. Not unless they are aided by another, stronger witch.”
Lilette closed her eyes, trying to shut down the memories assaulting her. It didn’t work. Her mother had stood between her and the battle going on before them—her face ashen, eyes haunted. “We’ve been betrayed,” she had whispered.
Lilette had thought she’d meant someone from the ship had let the elite onboard. But Chen was right. No ship could catch them, not without the aid of another, stronger witch. Her mother must have realized that moments before she’d died.
Lilette slowly raised her eyes to Chen’s.
“You believe me.” He nodded and relaxed into the rushes. “You must understand,” he pleaded, as if her opinion of him really mattered. “We had no choice. The safety of thousands makes even the most heinous price palatable.”
He wet his lips and took another drink. “There was no saving your father and the other guardians, Lilette. And for that I am sorry. But we would have taken you and your mother and hidden you away. But then the ship caught fire and we found your mother . . .”
Lilette shut her eyes tight, trying to close out the image seared in her memory, even though she’d never seen it. The image of her mother, floating face down in the water, her flesh badly burned, her face purple and bloated.
“The price was paid. And Harshen was blessed,” Chen finished softly.
“Who would do such a thing?” Lilette asked.
“Who has the most to lose if you live?” Chen said. “Who is strong enough to best your mother?”
Lilette bent over, her hands on her knees as the world spun. “Merlay?” she breathed. She scrubbed away the tears on her face. “How did you find me?”
Chen’s gaze shifted to beyond the door. She whirled to find her old friend standing behind her. “Salfe? How could you?”
He stared at the floor. “You deserved better than to be the fourth wife of a fisherman. You deserved to be with a prince.” He finally raised his eyes to hers and Lilette saw the pain there. He’d told her he loved her once, had risked and lost
his future for her. “Please. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to start all of this.”
Lilette closed her eyes as two heavy tears plunged down her cheeks. “You didn’t start it. I did. Fa warned me what would happen if I sang, and I did it anyway.”
She turned to Chen. “That’s how they found me—that’s why they came looking. Because I sang.”
Chen’s gaze was faraway. “I always wondered why they finally came for you, after all those years of nothing.”
Lilette clenched and unclenched her hands, feeling sweat building on her palms. “My sister . . . if you didn’t kill them . . .” She couldn’t finish.
This time Chen’s voice was filled with pity. “The witches did. They sang an earthquake that brought the ramparts down on them and the harem. It also brought down nearly every building in all of Rinnish.”
“No!” Lilette finally said, her voice coming out hoarse. The night she’d felt the world dying. She wavered on her feet.
Han reached out, holding her steady. She looked into his fathomless gaze. “Han.” The word was so full of pain and need. She hadn’t cried for her sister, for everything she’d lost and gained over the last few weeks.
He drew Lilette into his arms, holding her tight as the sobs slowly started. And once they began, she couldn’t stop.
They took her back to the main room, and Ko fixed her something hot and soothing. When Han seemed convinced she wouldn’t fall apart again, he straightened his shoulders and returned to his brother’s sick room.
Unfortunately, the rooms were divided with silk screens, so Lilette could hear every word.
“So how are you enjoying my wife, Brother?” Chen asked.
Han was slow to answer. “She’s not your wife anymore, Chen. I’m sorry. I truly am. But I thought you were dead. And I won’t give her up.”
“I thought I loved her too,” Chen replied so softly Lilette could barely hear him. “But then, I don’t think she ever let me see the real her. All I ever saw was a silent, compliant woman with a mischievous streak. But that’s not really who she is.”
