Lilette stepped closer to Jolin. “What do I do?”
“Sing,” Jolin said simply.
Lilette hesitated. “Keepers, follow my lead.”
Marching forward, she started singing. Jolin and the other witches took up the song. Immediately, plants started snatching at the elite’s feet, tripping them.
When they were halfway between the palace and the gates, Han stiffened beside her. He took half a step to the side and then ran to kneel beside a still form.
The guardians clashed with the elite, the sound making Lilette flinch, though she couldn’t take her gaze from Han. “Jolin, keep them singing.” She trotted up beside him and forced herself to look.
No one couldn’t mistake the stunning robes, even damp with rain and partially charred. Lilette bent down and picked up the elaborate crown at her feet. It was burned on one side. Han slowly turned over the emperor—his father. He was dead.
Han hung his head, his hands fisted at his sides. Lilette started to reach for him but hesitated. After all, she’d caused this.
From behind her, she heard a cry of pain and whirled to see Chen standing on the palace steps. The witches gave startled cries and darted away from him, but he ignored them. He sprinted forward and skidded to a halt on his knees beside the emperor.
He pressed his hand on his father’s still chest. His gaze swept across Lilette to land on Han. “How you could do this?” Chen’s voice broke. He gestured to the utter destruction of the compound, his voice rising with every word. “You let the witches free? Helped them kill elite—your own men—and our family? Stole my wife? Why?”
Han did not flinch. “It’s wrong. Invading Vorlay will destroy us.”
Lilette’s eyes widened. Chen was planning an invasion, and no doubt planning to use her sister and the others to do it.
“Our islands lack so many natural resources,” he explained. “Is it wrong of us to want to better the lives of our people?”
Han’s mouth tightened. “Using the keepers as our weapon will spark a war we will not win. The entire empire will be destroyed because of your folly. Our people will be the ones to pay the price.”
“You’ve known all this for days and done nothing,” Chen replied.
Han spoke through his teeth. “You would have killed Lilette.”
Rising to his feet, Chen pulled his swords from their sheaths. “I bested you once, Brother. I can do it again.”
Lilette opened her mouth to stop Chen. Jumping up, Han cut her a look that instantly severed her song. “Do not interfere. Not this time,” he said.
Her mouth clamped shut. She wanted to protest, but she remembered what Ko had said about regaining honor. Han had to do this alone if he was to ever live with himself.
Amid the sounds of the guardians and keepers battling the elite, the brothers circled each other. “When I win,” Chen said, “I will take back what’s mine.”
Han’s jaw hardened. “Just to kill her?”
Chen’s gaze flicked to Lilette. “You take her to Grove City, she’s as good as dead anyway.”
“Liar!” she cried.
Han made a choking sound. “Lilette, go. I can’t fight him while I’m worried about him coming after you. Join the others.”
Knowing he was right, she backed away. The brothers lunged at each other, their swords cutting through the air with a hiss before clashing in a ringing of steel.
Wiping rain from her face, Lilette took in the elite battling the guardians and the witches singing with all their might. They were outnumbered, and the guardians were clearly exhausted. They might manage to fight their way through, but so many would die seeing it done. There had to be another way.
Lilette caught sight of the stables, which were two stories high. An idea forming in her mind, she ran toward them and threw open the doors. The dozen or so grooms jumped. Their eyes swept over her and they bowed. Lilette realized with the weak light, all they could see was her armor—Han’s armor.
After tying up her faceguard, she stepped out of the rain, her gaze traveling down the rows and rows of horses in their stalls—all of them saddled and armored. A grim smile touched her mouth as she dropped her voice an octave. “See that all the horses are ready. Now.” She strode straight down the center of the stables without looking to one side or the other and stepped through a short gate into a two-stories-high room. She startled at movement far, far above her.
She craned her head back to find herself not a half dozen steps away from the elephant. Though the howdah was gone, Jia Li was still outfitted in rich trappings covered in tassels that swayed as she studied Lilette with intelligent eyes. Her enormous trunk prodded Lilette’s arms, as if searching for something.