“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.