“What were those glass planes you wore over your eyes?”
Jolin pulled them out of her pocket and handed them to Lilette.
“Spectacles. I invented them. They show me the true size of an aura, which directly correlates to how strong a witch is. Most witches have gold or orange auras. Yours is almost white. And you are very, very strong.”
Lilette put the spectacles on and stared at her hand. “I don’t see anything.”
“Not everyone can.” Jolin appraised her. “You’re doing surprisingly well for a woman who basically died two days ago.”
Lilette didn’t feel well. She felt battered and weak, but she was still moving, albeit slowly.
Jolin helped her sit down and glanced at the closed screen. She leaned in closer. “And what of Ko? Do you trust her?”
Ko had stayed by Lilette’s side for days, holding her hand and tending to her. Somehow a bond had formed in that time, but treason was bigger than a newfound friendship. “Only so far.”
“Until we know for certain, we should be careful what we say around her,” Jolin said.
Lying back, Lilette nodded. Then a rare smile overtook her face. “Are you really going to teach me?”
“I can’t. Whether you are willing or not, your song will be used against Haven. I can’t be responsible for that.”
Something sharp twisted inside Lilette. “Please. It’s all there—the creators’ language and the voice lessons—it’s just locked inside me. If I can just remember a little of it, the whole will come flooding out.” It had to.
Jolin closed her eyes. “He will turn you into a weapon.”
Lilette’s mother had called her a warrior. And Jolin could teach her to become one. Lilette was surprised how much she longed for that. “He can’t wield me if we escape.”
Jolin studied her. “And you will come to Grove City for learning?”
Lilette let out all her breath in a rush. “Yes.”
Jolin was silent a moment, her face hard. She glanced at the closed screen. “Very well.” The words seemed to cost her a great deal. “You’re woefully ignorant, so I’m just going to stick to what might be useful. Singing as a choir, we can control nature—the seasons, the storms.”
“I remember that,” Lilette breathed as the warm memory surfaced. Her mother singing in a circle with the other witches, strange colors dancing around them as the world shifted in response.
“Individually,” Jolin went on, “a witch’s song controls plants—singing a seed to a full grown tree you can then manipulate. The stronger the witch, the faster and better the response.”
Another, much darker memory assaulted Lilette. Singing with her mother in a dim corridor as men bore down on them with spears. Her song had woken a beast that had crashed down on the men with lightning and wind.
She’d only been child at the time—incapable of understanding that the elements were simply responding to her call, that killing men who threatened her family was justified.
Jolin must have seen the anguish on Lilette’s face. “I’m sorry.”
Lilette wiped the tears from her cheeks. It had been a very long time since she’d cried. “No, I need this—need to remember. It isn’t right to forget people who loved me so much.”
Jolin took a deep breath and winced as if in pain. “Let me hear you sing.”
“I can only remember one song, and I understand little of the creators’ language.”
“Just sing anything,” Jolin said.
Lilette sang a fisherman’s song. Jolin listened, her face screwed up in concentration. As the last note eased to silence, she took a deep breath. “Your voice is very beautiful,” she admitted reluctantly. “And the more beautiful your song, the stronger.”
Jolin began teaching Lilette the Creators’ language, the language of power. The words molded themselves to her tongue before cutting through the air like a bird in flight. The elements came alive around Lilette.
Jolin made her perfect each song before they moved onto the next. The more Lilette sang, the more the memories locked in her mind pressed against the barrier holding them back. By nightfall, her head ached and she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open.
After dinner, she and Jolin slept in the same room. Lilette’s dreams were full of swimming with her father, mother, and sister playing in the sand on shore.
Her dreams were interrupted when Ko shoved aside the screen, a lit lamp in her hand. Lilette sat up, holding up her hand to shield her from the brightness. A glance out the window revealed that it was sometime in the darkest hours.
“Vorlay’s armada has been sighted,” Ko said breathlessly. “Their king has come to make Harshen pay for killing his daughter.”