She’d forgotten what it felt like to wear something that didn’t rub sores under her arms. She ran her hands down the length of her stomach, remembering the closets of fine clothes she’d once had. As usual, she forced away the memories of her previous life, surprised that any of them still surfaced.
She slipped on her new, finely tooled sandals. Pan’s sigh held an undercurrent of envy. “He was so generous with your bride price.”
No one seemed to care that Bian was old enough to be Lilette’s father, that he already had three wives and dozens of children. All that mattered was that he’d showered her with fabulous clothes, brooches, and winking rings—all of which only made his wives hate her. The fact that Lilette didn’t want the gifts or the attention only seemed to make them hate her more.
Pan looked Lilette up and down. She reached out, stopping just shy of touching the fine silk before withdrawing her hand. “Sit down.”
Lilette sat gingerly on a large rock Pan had draped with palm leaves to protect her clothing. She studied the other girls, Pan’s younger sisters. All seven of them were chatting happily as they plaited flowers in each other’s hair. They all looked very much alike with their darker skin, curling black hair, and laughing, almond-shaped eyes—very different from Lilette’s golden skin, pale hair, and brilliant turquoise eyes.
Pan’s quick fingers worked rich-smelling oils into Lilette’s hair before tugging a little more roughly than necessary at the knots with the comb. “You’re hair is so thin,” Pan complained as she bound Lilette’s hair into complicated rolls and poufs. She placed three white orchids, the symbol of fertility, behind her ear. Lilette brushed her fingertips along the petals, resisting the urge to rip the flowers from her hair.
Pan’s next younger sister knelt behind Pan and watched them shyly. “Sing for us, Auntie,” she said.
Lilette held back a wince at being called Auntie. She studied the cluster of girls who would be her stepdaughters if she failed to escape tonight. She imagined Bian’s dark eyes watching her, possessing her, and she shuddered.
Lilette took a deep breath and sang one of Fa’s songs.
Down to the depths of the stream you must pour
Heartache and loneliness, hurt, and what’s more,
Missed opportunities passing you by.
Mistakes and aches, let them fly
Into the stream of forgetting.
The world around Lilette stilled, waiting for something more, but she hadn’t sung the words in the Creators’ language—the language of power. She’d buried her knowledge of that language so deep she could only remember one song, and that one only recently.
As last note drifted away, the elements slowly went back to sleep. In the quiet that followed, Lilette fingered the phoenix carved into the decorative comb Salfe had given her. It was the only thing of value she truly owned. The only thing she’d take with her when she escaped.
Pan tugged the comb from her fingers and slipped it into Lilette’s hair. “Not quite straight,” she murmured and shifted it. The comb suddenly jerked out, taking some of Lilette’s hair with it. She yelped and whirled to look at Pan. At the look on her friend’s face, the words she might have said froze in her throat. She followed Pan’s gaze to see a man watching them from the shadows—probably Quo, one of Pan’s many brothers.
But instead of running away in shame for having been caught watching the women swimming, he slowly rose to his feet. Lilette took a breath to threaten to tell Bian, but the man stepped into the light. Lilette didn’t recognize him, which was impossible. She knew everyone on their small island.
“Hello, Lilette.”
Her mouth came open in a noiseless gasp. He’d spoken in her native tongue—Kalarian. And used her full name. No one had called her that in eight years.
She rose to her feet and took in his dark hair bound in a queue, the fine features and full mouth. But it was the poised way he stood, the leather-and bronze-studded armor he wore that gave him away. She realized with a start that she did know this man.
Chen had come to kill her, just as his father had killed her parents. The fear that had long slumbered in Lilette roared to life, and the air seemed thin and wavering. “It can’t be.”
“Who are you?” Pan’s voice came out breathy.
Where were Bian’s sons? Lilette was suddenly frightened for them. They would be worse than useless against Chen.
“Quo? Zu? Ji?” Pan called. When they didn’t answer, her face paled and she cleared her throat. “What do you want?”
“He’s come to murder me,” Lilette answered.
Chen’s brow furrowed as he turned to her. “Murder you? No. You will become my concubine.”