by Amber Argyle
Lilette closed her eyes. She knew who these men were. “Let them take me, Bian. If you don’t, you’ll all be killed.”
Chen took a deep breath and called loudly, “Listen to her, fisherman, for the path you tread is narrow as a blade.”
Bian watched her, regret plain on his face. “You underestimate us, Lilette. I have waited too long to let you go now.”
Chen made a sound low in his throat. “Believe me when I say I have waited longer. I am not here to barter, fisherman. Take the gold and your lives and be gone.”
When Bian hesitated, Han’s voice pierced the quiet. “A widow has no husband.”
Bian stared at Lilette, and she saw he would not give her up. He threw the purse at Chen’s feet. She gaped at the glittering gold pieces lying in the sand. “No, Bian!” she cried. “They are elite!”
Her words evoked a deadly stillness, for even in her isolated village, the elite were renowned as the highest trained soldiers of the empire. It was they who guarded the royal family.
One by one, the villagers dropped to their knees, their foreheads pressing into the sand three times as they kowtowed.
“You had only to name yourself heir, and she would have been yours.” Bian voice shook. Finally, he understood the danger.
Chen cut a glance at his brother. “Now we have no choice. She told them who we are.”
All the fear and tension drained out of Lilette, replaced by a bone-numbing horror. Had her revelation sentenced her villagers to death? “No!” she screamed. She lunged for Chen, determined to stop him somehow.
Han caught her about the middle, his arms locked tightly around her no matter how much she strained. “Chen, it’s murder,” he said.
“If you cannot stomach it, get her onto the ship,” Chen growled as he drew his swords. He turned his back on Han to address the elite. “Make sure none of them escape. If we fail, we risk a war.”
With that, he stalked toward the villagers, most of whom grabbed their discarded weapons and stood their ground, but a few kept themselves prostrate.
“Chen, leave them alone!” Lilette cried.
Han tossed her into the boat. She tried to bolt back out, but he blocked her way. “You can’t stop it. You’ll only make it worse for them.”
Listening to her villagers’ death cries, she felt the fight drain out of her. “Please,” she wailed as the elite cut through the villagers.
Muscles straining, Han pushed the boat into the water and pulled himself in. Lilette automatically leaned to the other side to keep the craft from capsizing. Belatedly, she realized she should have overturned it.
Chen had reached Bian. He easily sidestepped Bian’s spear thrust and pivoted, his sword biting into flesh. Bian’s eyes widened in surprise. He wavered on his feet. Chen pulled back and struck tip-first into Bian’s heart. He fell to the beach, lifeless.
Lilette thought of her would-be husband’s wives. All those children—Pan foremost among them—and her heart cried out in anguish.
Quo screamed in outrage and threw his spear. Chen twisted and the spear glanced harmlessly off his reinforced armor. Then he lunged forward, and even from this distance, Lilette could see the fear in Quo’s face, fear as he turned to flee. Chen ran him down and shoved the sword in his back.
Han took Lilette’s face firmly between the thumb and fingers of his massive hand. She looked into his empty, dark eyes. “Lie in the bottom of the boat and cover your ears,” he told her.
Perhaps it was cowardly. Perhaps it was weak. But Lilette did as she was told, pressing her fists into her ears to block out the sound of her villagers dying.
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