Garden of Thorns

by Amber Mitchell

  “You picked up another stray,” Arlo says. “This one’s pretty, especially the violet eyes.”

  He wears his goatee short, and it should make him look serious, but his chocolate eyes are lit with jest, and that relaxes me. He’s about an inch shorter than Rayce and has the lean build and quick movements of someone who’d be good at aerial dance. If the Gardener showcased Trees instead of Flowers, Rayce and Arlo would be the first two in his collection.

  “What’s your assessment of her?” he asks.

  “Inconclusive,” Rayce answers, tossing Arlo a brown robe from the pile on the ground. “Terrible grip on my knife and hesitated on the uptake, but she also doesn’t have a solid plan for escape, leaving her motives questionable.”

  “Excuse me?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s not like I had a lot of time to come up with a plan before I acted on it. And there hasn’t been a lot of opportunity to practice with knives where I’ve been, either.”

  Arlo clicks his tongue, his smile widening. “Spirited, isn’t she?”

  “Arlo, this is Rose,” Rayce says, ignoring his comment. “Rose, Arlo Shing.”

  These Delmarions and their love of short names. My father used to tell me you could judge the worth of a man by the length of his name.

  “She’s charmed, I’m sure,” Arlo says, giving me a quick wink before throwing on the robe he was handed. He runs a hand over his short hair to smooth it down. “Since we’re on formalities, I wasn’t able to acquire much information on our target. Only that your uncle moved her before the ceremonies.”

  “Yun’s beard,” Rayce says, spitting out a curse at their god of death. While he’s distracted, I turn back to the smoke, combing for a place to slip away.

  Several glittering flashes like stars on the ground catch my attention. About ten soldiers head straight for us.

  “Were you followed?” I ask Arlo, cutting into their conversation.

  Arlo reads the panic in my voice and turns to see what’s causing it.

  “It would seem that way,” he says, sliding into the alley. “We need to move.”

  The soldiers pick up their pace.

  “Definitely.” Rayce motions to the yawning mouth of the alleyway. “After you, Rose.”

  My feet stay rooted. If I go in now, I’ll be sandwiched between Arlo and Rayce. Running from one cage straight into another.

  “Please, just let me go,” I say, nearly choking out the words. Begging, after just gaining my freedom, hurts more than I care to admit.

  “I can’t.” He motions with his hand for me to go ahead of him.

  “Guess I don’t have a choice then,” I say, my teeth clenched.

  My insides rip into a thousand pieces as we part the shadows with our racing footsteps. Every inch leads me farther away from my sisters. What horrors lie at the end of the night for Calla and Lily and the others?

  Over the sound of my silent shrieking, I hear Rayce whisper, “Neither do I.”

  Chapter Seven

  We plunge deeper into the darkness, picking our way through the maze of alleys. I can’t see much of anything on either side of me, but the walls are getting closer to my shoulders. I keep my eyes focused on Arlo’s back, trying to match his movement. Without the weight of the chains slowing me down, I feel like I could run forever.

  But my chains are never far behind. I can hear the clinking of soldiers’ armor bouncing off the tight quarters at our backs, and it pushes my feet faster. Arlo takes a hard left into another alley, and we keep running, taking turns with what seems like no reason until the chasing footsteps fade into the distance.

  We finally break through the alleyway into a small marketplace. The worn cobblestone floor and paint-chipped buildings suggest this isn’t a place the emperor visits often. Tents packed on top of each other line the west and east sides of the open marketplace. Night dulls the brightly colored fabric better than the rusty wrought-iron lamps can light them. The scents of sweat and animal excrement lingers in the air, even though the market has been closed since dusk.

  A small group of soldiers edge toward the market from the east, probably trying to cut us off. With both passages blocked, we only have two options: south into a wall or west toward the Changhe River. Arlo opts for west and skirts away from a pool of light in our path. We run a few more feet and turn onto a dirt street.

  Off to our right, a tiny stone building hunches over, its door swung wide open with an illegible sign sagging over the entrance. Judging by the laughter pouring out of the building, it’s got to be some kind of brothel. Three men slump near the door, clutching half-empty mugs and arguing about something unintelligibly. Another leans against the wall, retching, and a few people with heavy, hooded cloaks tucked up over their heads walk farther up the street. I get the sense this isn’t the type of place respectable citizens dwell.

  Someone bundled in a pile of ratty fabric huddles near the entrance of the street. The person must be passed out, but Arlo stops in front of them and squats down. The figure pops up, the blankets falling away to reveal a completely sober man with long coal-black hair streaked with silver tied into a low ponytail at the base of his neck. His pale face doesn’t show much sign of aging, except the crow’s-feet that gather around his sharp eyes and his bushy eyebrows, but I can tell by the tender way his gaze passes over both my captors’ faces that he has to be old enough to be my father.

  “There you two are,” the man says, clicking his tongue at them. “I was getting worried. Everyone else has checked in.”

  “Yeah, we got tied up,” Rayce says.

  “More like you got tied up,” Arlo says to Rayce while extending his hand to help the man up.

  The older man stands and brushes himself off. His broad shoulders take up half the narrow alley. His bulkiness feels intimidating, but there’s something soft gleaming from his eyes. Almost like his oversize frame is only there to contain his kindness.

  “Is this the girl the rest have been reporting tried to assassinate you?” the man asks, turning to me.

  Panic shoots through my gut hearing this man accuse me of the same thing Rayce had earlier. Is that really the rumor going around? And so quickly? The weight of my predicament slams into me.

  “I wasn’t really going to harm him,” I say, pulling my robe tighter. “What motive would I have?”

  “I told you,” Rayce says. “You chose me out of a crowd of a hundred. It’s suspicious.”

  “What’s your name, girl?” the older man asks, stroking his long black-and-silver beard.

  His words should sound harsh, but the dead piece of leaf still stuck in his beard softens his entire appearance.

  “Rose.”

  “After the rare Varshan desert rose, I assume,” he mumbles, nodding to himself. “It’ll do just fine.”

  “What will?” I ask, furrowing my brow at his odd assessment.

  “Oren’s got a thing for names,” Arlo says. “Just ignore him.”

  “Imperial City has always held all kinds of folk,” Oren says. “But lately it’s been rare to come across a Varshan. It’s very nice to make your acquaintance.”

  Something about the way he makes sure to mention I’m a foreigner sends a chill down my spine. There’s no way he could know the secret of my exact heritage and yet, every time he looks at me, I feel like he’s reading it on my face.

  “We should get moving,” Rayce says, cutting into the conversation. “It won’t take long until this entire city is crawling with soldiers.”

  “It stands to reason they’ll be headed down this particular street very soon,” Oren says, rubbing a hand down his beard and finally catching the piece of leaf. “It’s very near the river, and they’ll most likely have set up a barricade they’ll want to herd us toward.”

  “Which means we’re going to need these.” Arlo reaches into the pile of blankets Oren was wrapped in and pulls out several metal contraptions. They look a little like the base of a metal crossbow with the front chopped off and the inside
hollowed out into a barrel.

  Rayce takes two of the contraptions and Arlo hands Oren the third, holstering two for himself.

  “And you’re going to need to take this,” Rayce says. He pulls out a leather cord suspending a glowing vial from under his shirt and hands it to me.

  “Is this poison?” I ask, staring at the luminescent green powder. The sand-like grains sparkle in their own light.

  “We aren’t going to kill you. We can’t question the dead,” Rayce says. “And we have no reason to hurt you unless you give us one.”

  I frown at the vial. It’s a good thing to know, I guess, that I’ll be unharmed until they question me.

  “Swallow it,” Arlo says, tipping an imaginary vial into his mouth.

  He and Oren begin walking ahead of us.

  “It’s going to boost your body heat,” Rayce explains.

  “Why should I trust you?” I ask, keeping my hands tucked firmly by my side.

  In my experience, trusting a man’s word ends in misery. It’s the first lesson I ever learned on this side of the Blue Gate and one I swore I’d never forget.

  “Neither of us has a choice, remember? We’re in this together.” Rayce folds the vial into my hands, the coolness bringing me back to the present. “If you want any chance at escaping the Sun soldiers, please drink it.”

  I glare at him and down the contents. It tastes a lot like the paste they slop into our carts at the Garden. There’s a distinct earthy note followed by a very sour finish.

  I hand the empty vial back to Rayce. He motions us forward, so I start walking.

  “What exactly is that thing Arlo gave you earlier?” I ask.

  “Hopefully you won’t have to find out,” Rayce says.

  We pass under the shadow of the brothel unimpeded, and I settle into our pace. We might just make it to the river safely. From there, I can split off from them and circle back around in the morning to spy on the Garden. The palace gate won’t be terribly difficult to scale with all of those fancy buildings next to it that gradually grow in height, some of the nearest ones just peeking over the tops of the high wall.

  Rayce leans in close to me, like he’s sniffing my hair. I open my mouth to tell him to go away, but he whispers, “They’re behind us.”

  As he finishes speaking, the clinking of metal-plated footsteps reaches my ears. He must have been pretending to get close so he could check behind us. As if Rayce can sense that I want to turn, he grabs my wrist.

  “Don’t turn around. Keep pace with me.”

  I consider making a break for it right now. If I run, I doubt they’ll follow. It’d draw too much attention. But he was right before when he said I’d rather be with them than detained by Delmarion Sun soldiers. It’ll be much easier to slip away from three than twenty. Besides, if I’m captured, I’ll likely wind up back in the emperor’s presence again. The skin on my arms prickles as I think about his overbearing gaze.

  I tuck myself closer to Rayce and try to remember how the Wilteds act around the male clientele. We’re near a brothel, so it wouldn’t be out of place for us to be walking together.

  “How am I supposed to protect myself if they discover us?” I ask. “Can’t you give me that knife at least?”

  “You won’t need to protect yourself if we aren’t spotted,” Rayce says.

  My face feels as hot as it did when we were standing next to the burning Garden. I take a few deep breaths through my nose to calm down.

  Behind us, one of the soldiers shouts to “spread out.” The sound of their boots echoes against the walls and paints a picture of a vast army at our backs.

  “Yun’s beard,” Rayce hisses under his breath. He pulls out one of the contraptions he took from Arlo and slips it in my hands, feigning a couple heading into the night for a good time.

  “What’s this?” I whisper. “I said the knife.”

  “It’s a stunner,” he says.

  I look down at the weapon joining us. His palm heats the back of my hand, in sharp contrast with the stunner’s cool metal handle. It’s much lighter than I imagined, and the same green powder he had me ingest fills the glass handle.

  “If they do end up spotting us, it’ll stop them from following.” He moves my finger with his to a little switch above the handle. “This is the trigger. You pull it back when you want to shoot. And don’t think about pointing it at any of us, because it won’t work.”

  I can’t say the idea didn’t cross my mind.

  Even though Rayce said not to, I casually tuck my hair behind my ear and peek back the way we came. A group of soldiers charges into the little brothel we just passed. Their large shadows bounce around the nearest wall. A second later, people come pouring out the door, stumbling over one another to get away from the men in metal armor. Another group of soldiers heads our way, so I turn back and bury my head in Rayce’s arm to obscure my face.

  “You peeked,” Rayce says, though he doesn’t sound angry.

  I nod.

  “And what did you see?”

  “Five of them are coming at us quickly,” I say to the ground, my voice shaking.

  “Remain calm,” Oren whispers from a few paces ahead. “We haven’t a reason to panic.”

  A man staggers past, running from the brothel raid. The stench of rice wine and vomit rolls off him. A short woman with her tattered green robe around her shoulders and her crimson lip blush smeared follows behind. My mind screams that we should run, but I force myself to keep time with Rayce’s steady footfalls.

  “Hey! You four,” one of the soldiers shouts. “Stop right there.”

  The weight of the stunner feels heavier the second I realize I’m going to have to use it. Even though it would probably hurt them more, I wish I had a Varshan blade instead. At least I can use one of those without worrying I’ll shoot myself.

  “Now,” Arlo says, spinning around with a stunner in each hand.

  The powder in the barrels glows bright green, but I can’t tear my gaze from the glowing green lines running over his skin like veins.

  Next to me, Rayce snatches his stunner, his body bursting with light. A web of green ink spreads down his left side from the base of his ear, sleeving his shoulder and trailing farther down his stomach, glowing through his light linen shirt. The intricate lines swirl like they’re trying to mimic the wind.

  These are the glowing men the lackeys were talking about, and it’s the same color light I saw from high above the Garden when I was suspended by my silk! Could this really be magic?

  I don’t have time to process that before Arlo lets loose a pair of green electric waves that light up the dark street. They look as dangerous as lightning skipping from cloud to cloud on a stormy night. One beam rockets past my cheek, sending a heat wave shuddering down my body. The twin shots race toward the men chasing us, finding their target in the exposed skin of the neck, just between the helmet and the chest plate. The two lead soldiers go down.

  “Over there!” one of the other soldiers shouts, his voice ringing out like a death sentence.

  We dart forward down the wide street. I can see the mighty Changhe River that cuts through the western half of Delmar in the near distance. If we can make it there, maybe I can slip away in the chaos.

  Oren and Rayce both turn around and take shots. I look over my shoulder as another soldier collapses. At quick glance, there have to be at least eleven. Almost an entire unit. They spread out, blocking the way back with their bodies.

  I have no idea how we can outrun them, but I’ve got to do something. I swing around and hold out my stunner. I do my best to aim, but the running and the adrenaline aren’t helping. I pull the trigger, and the kickback almost slams the metal contraption into my forehead. The bolt rockets toward the crowd and hits one of the outside guards. His shoulder twists back from the impact, but the green bolt ricochets off the tiny metal plates and into the wall, not even slowing him down.

  Two of Arlo’s bolts follow mine, finding their mark. I snarl at the stunne
r in my hands as if it’s responsible for my poor aim. Increasing heat courses down my body. It feels like I’m the one burning instead of the Garden. But Rayce mentioned the powder would make me feel hot. Before I can look to see where we are, Rayce pushes me away from him. An arrow whizzes through the space my head previously occupied.

  “Spread out!” Rayce orders. “They have crossbows.”

  I turn around again and try to aim my weapon better. Oren’s shot stuns another while mine hits an armored knee. The blow causes the soldier to fall, but he scrambles back to his feet.

  Arlo guns two more down, narrowing the crowd to six, a perfectly manageable number for the four of us if I had a usable weapon. I just hope these three men are as good at hand-to-hand combat as they are at shooting, because the river is coming up faster than we can fire. Another arrow cuts through the air, grazing Oren’s shoulder.

  The buildings break away, and the only bridge connecting the poor part of Delmar to the capital comes into view a few blocks up, but we’ll never make it there with arrows flying. Which only leaves the murky black water. I recoil just thinking about jumping in and the cold attacking my body. As if it’s already happening, I can feel icy water flooding my lungs, can see Rayce and the others splashing away from me as I sink to the bottom.

  The ledge comes up quickly. A wrought-iron fence about the height of my hip is all that separates us and a sheer drop into the water below.

  I slow as we draw nearer. If I’m going to jump, I really don’t want to do it from a running start. But I hope it doesn’t come to that. Rayce swings around, grabbing the blade I used to take him hostage and then kicking a soldier to the ground.

  Without command, Oren and Arlo stop next to the fence and pivot, taking shots at the remaining soldiers. Rayce grabs my shoulder and pushes me behind him, blocking me from any stray arrows with his own body.

  The last remaining soldier charges for us, but Rayce parries his attack, never moving from his spot in front of me, dispatching the soldier quickly with his tiny knife.

  I stumble backward, leaning against the railing to stay upright. For some reason my legs shake and I’m reminded of the winter when I was eleven and caught a fever in the Garden. The Gardener had me dunked in water for tearing my dress on a nasty fall, and I was thrown into my cart overnight. At first I couldn’t keep warm and I thought I might freeze to death—until the fever set in.