“You cut yourself?” Oren asks, breaking the tension. “Are you all right?”
Rayce and I share a glance, both remembering the moments before the council came pouring in.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Thank you for your concern.”
Rayce places his palms on the table in front of him, showing me he has nothing to hide, and leans back an inch. “I asked you to convince Zareen you aren’t an assassin,” he says. “That you weren’t sent by my uncle to crush or divide us. And I need you to do it now. We’re responsible for every soul in the rebellion, and we won’t let you out of here until we know without a doubt that we can trust you. So, please, convince us.”
He raises a hand toward me, signaling that I should begin. I take a deep breath and grip the edge of my stool with shaking hands.
“I don’t know how you want me to do that,” I say.
Piper lets out an annoyed snicker at my words.
I level her with a glare. “I’ve told you numerous times that I chose you randomly. The room was full of elite soldiers and Rayce looked the most unassuming.”
“Thanks for that,” Rayce says, humor leaking into his voice.
“You expect us to believe you selected the rebellion leader by coincidence?” Piper asks. “The odds of that are preposterous when you calculate how many people were in attendance. Besides, if you wanted an easy target, why not one of the women?”
“Are you implying women are incapable of fighting back?” Marin asks, touching the hilt of her sword.
“In a crowd filled with the emperor’s soldiers, the likelihood is far higher that a woman would be a more favorable target.”
“Even I know the emperor won’t allow women to serve in the imperial army,” I say, cutting off their debate. “And I needed someone with a weapon for my plan to work.”
“See, she had a good reason,” Marin says and sticks her tongue out at Piper.
I work hard to keep a straight face when Marin gives me a quick wink.
“That’s fine,” Arlo says from behind Rayce. “But the way you can prove to us that you aren’t a threat is to tell us what you know about the treaty between the emperor and your former master.”
I stiffen at Arlo’s mention of the Gardener. I knew from the beginning that information would be how I got myself out of this cage, but all I have is gossip, and I’m not sure that’ll be strong enough. The Gardener’s portion of the deal is fairly easy to guess—legalization has always been the key to sustaining his horror show long-term—but what he’s giving in return is a far more terrifying topic.
Fern’s warning that it has to do with one of my secrets rings in my ears. I can feel her hands warm on my cheeks as she pleads with me not to let the Gardener go through with the deal.
I was supposed to save my sisters. Fern gave her life for this purpose, and I failed.
“Cooperation, Rose,” Rayce says, cutting into my thoughts.
But I can’t tell them about my part in the deal without revealing everything about my past, and if I do that, I’ll never get a chance to save my family. No, I’ll have to give them something else. Something less dangerous.
“You have to understand,” I say, picking my words carefully. “Flowers are lower than the dirt underneath the Gardener’s feet.”
“She doesn’t know anything,” Piper snorts.
“I didn’t say that,” I snap. “I just wanted to be clear that whatever I tell you is just speculation. Things I’ve been able to gather by overhearing conversations and talking with the others.”
“Go on, child.” Oren gives me an encouraging nod.
“The Gardener has always wanted to be deemed a legal business by the emperor,” I say. “And he’s been determined to set up a permanent business in Imperial City, since that’s where the majority of coin lives and where most of the soldiers report back to.”
“It stands to reason that if Galon was able to strike a deal with the Garden,” Oren says, writing something down on a fresh sheet of parchment, “he would get a cut of any coin coming in.”
“Which would mean more gold for the imperial bank,” Rayce says.
“Not to mention a new form of entertainment,” Arlo adds, scratching his chin. “Which, coupled with the first festival in ten years, would make the emperor appear to be listening to the people’s demands.”
“Weakening the rebellion’s stance in Imperial City,” Oren says. “And strengthening the emperor’s reach.”
“Plus, the Gardener is in possession of some of the most deadly men in Delmar,” I add. “He employs a lot of dangerous ones in his troupe. Those the army passed up or who were discharged for their murderous tendencies.”
Shears’s face comes to mind.
“We’ve already inferred this,” Piper says. “Speculation is as meaningless as her attempt to save her own life.”
I narrow my eyes at Piper.
“She’s confirming what we speculated,” Rayce says.
“True,” Arlo says, straightening. “But Piper’s also correct.”
I get the sense by how quickly Arlo agrees with both of them that he often plays the role of moderator between them.
“What we need to know,” Arlo says, “is what the Gardener is trading for his permanent residency.”
All eyes turn toward me as the question lingers in the chilly air. I keep my expression blank, because my entire life depends on this performance. I know my past is involved; Fern confirmed it. But they can’t know.
What else did she say?
My mind revolts against the idea, but I close my eyes and picture the cage where I spent the good part of ten years. I can feel the straw poking through my thin traveling sack, can hear Fern’s breathing filling up the space, can feel the helplessness of our promise as she was murdered just outside those wooden walls.
She said the deal had to do with something about me and that glowing rock…
My eyes flit to the Zarenite still lighting up the space. That’s why it looked so familiar the first time I saw it! I know how I’m going to convince them without having to reveal anything about myself. Sending a little thanks to Fern, I turn to Rayce.
“The Gardener has a chunk of your Zarenite,” I say.
The scratching of Oren’s quill ceases as my sentence settles in the air. Rayce shifts on his stool, and Arlo lets go of the hilt of his stunner.
“He stole it from a man back in Nan Zun a few weeks ago,” I say.
“That town is very close to us,” Oren says, sifting through his parchments until he finds the one he’s looking for. He flattens it out on the table, and I see a roughly drawn map of Delmar in black ink.
Rayce leans in, peering at the place Oren points to, and Marin stands on her tiptoes, trying to see over him.
“Do you know if the Gardener has any information on where the Zarenite was found?” Arlo asks.
I bow my head. “No, I don’t.”
“This is troublesome,” Oren says. “But also very useful information. Thank you for sharing it with us, Rose. You might have just saved us from a surprise attack.”
Despite my best effort, the hint of a smile finds its way onto my lips at Oren’s praise. I keep my head lowered so no one can witness that slip.
“She may have,” Piper agrees. “But how can we assume the information is credible? We’ve already made it clear that her freedom is on the line, and it’s been my experience that people will say almost anything when something precious is at stake.”
Give me a moment to breathe! I open my mouth to argue but realize I don’t know how to answer her question. I don’t have any proof besides my own words.
“That’s easy to fix,” Marin says. “Where’d you find that information out from?”
“I saw the Zarenite myself. And I found out it was part of the deal from another girl. From Fern.”
Rayce looks up, recognizing the name, and I meet his dark eyes.
“Fern lost her life for talking to someone from the rebellion about this,” I sa
y, my gaze flicking to Piper. “I wouldn’t lie about it.”
Arlo leans over, a hand on Rayce’s shoulder. “You said she was speaking to someone from the rebellion? Was it Bái?”
“I didn’t get a name,” I say. “I only saw—”
“Was he well?” Arlo asks, cutting in. “Or did he get captured? We lost contact with him about a week ago.”
“If it was him, he’s dead,” I say. “I only saw the head of a man the Gardener threw at Fern before he killed her, too.”
The silence in the room echoes louder than the creak of the door to my cage. Even Piper’s usual blank demeanor looks shaken by my last statement.
Oren straightens to his full sitting height and puts a hand out, clutching mine in his. His movement is so quick I don’t have time to pull away before my hand disappears under his bear claw.
“Child, I’m so sorry for the things you’ve been through,” he says. “Thank you again for the information you know. It must have been horrific, but at least we can finally tell Bái’s family the fate of their loved one, and they can have some comfort in that knowledge.”
The dripping water in my cell suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Anything not to look at Oren, because I don’t think I could hold back the tears threatening to spill if I saw his face.
“I think we’ve heard enough.” Rayce rises to his feet.
And this is where all his pretty words crumble and turn to ash. He has what he wants from me now, so there’s no need to pretend anymore. I expect him to keep walking, tell the guard at the door to lock it up tight after the council has left, and leave me to rot underneath the ground.
Instead, he turns to every face in the room and back to me. “I don’t believe Rose poses a threat to the rebellion, and I’m confident we can release her into the rest of our base under supervision.”
What?
“I’m…free?” I blink, the concept sounding foreign to my ears. Did he really just keep his word and let me go after I told him everything I was able to piece together? A half grin slips onto his face as he studies my dazed reaction.
“That’s an expeditious decision,” Piper says.
“I second his decision,” Oren says, letting go of my palm.
“Third it,” Marin says, throwing her hand up in the air.
“You’re not a member of this council, guard,” Piper snaps.
“And yet I’m still smart enough to realize she isn’t a threat. Maybe I should take your place.”
“Shing,” Arlo says, his voice full of warning. Marin rolls her eyes and bows her head. Arlo turns to Piper. “I’m in agreement with the shogun. Rose gave us solid information.”
Piper blinks at him, but if she feels betrayed by Arlo’s vote against her, she doesn’t show it.
“It’s settled then,” Rayce says, turning on his boot to head toward the iron barred door. “Marin, show Rose to a room.”
He kept his word. The rest of the group begins to follow Rayce to the exit, and as I see their backs turning on me, my mind pauses in its shock long enough for me to realize something. Something so important that it causes me to stand, the stool I was sitting on crashing behind me in my haste.
“Wait!” I say, my voice loud in the small room. “I have something I want to say.”
Hand touching the iron bar, Rayce turns back to me, an eyebrow cocked in curiosity.
“You stopped me from saving the other dancers in the Garden because you thought I was a threat.” I close my mouth, not wanting to say the next thing I know I have to say. I take a deep breath. “I know that you probably also stopped me from getting captured that night. And it’s made me realize that I can’t fight against the Garden alone. I want to know…will Zareen help me rescue the other girls still trapped there?”
I can see my sisters’ faces as clearly as if they’re in the room with us: Calla and Lily and Juniper and Star and Sickle, painting the room in a familiar glow. The fact they’re still stuck in that horrid place kills me, and the indecision that passes over Rayce’s expression is a close second. Especially since admitting I could use their help leaves me so exposed.
Rayce’s brow furrows, and I can see a war raging behind his eyes. The gentle way he touched my hand while he cleaned my wound comes unbidden to my mind, and I pray to whatever Delmarion god is listening that I get that tender side of Rayce to listen now instead of the stern man that judged me a few moments ago.
“I think—” Rayce begins.
“I would exercise extreme caution,” Piper interrupts. “The troops are already distributed thinly and with the recent reports from Dongsu…”
“Piper’s right,” Arlo says. “We’re barely surviving here, but if we keep fractioning our forces, we might give the emperor the advantage he needs.”
Rayce’s grip on the iron bar tightens, and a pained look passes over his face. He takes a moment to smooth his features.
“I don’t agree with anything to do with the Garden,” Rayce says. His eyes cut me in two. “And I sympathize with your need to help those you love. However, I can’t spare any of my forces for a separate mission at the moment. Not yet. If you stay and can prove yourself worthy of Zareen, we will revisit this discussion. You have my word.”
The word of a man has burned far too many Flowers for it to mean anything to me, even if Rayce did decide to keep it once.
He pauses at the edge of the door, scratching the back of his neck. He doesn’t look back as he says, “You’ve made it clear that my word doesn’t mean much to you right now, but it will. I’ll keep this promise, too.”
I clench my fists as they file out of the room. When I escaped, I never saw myself asking for another man’s help, and yet I resorted to that very thing, as if I were still a captive in the Garden, begging on my knees. I’ve heard all of these promises before from another’s lips. Park made me believe in him only to betray me in the worst way possible.
“Have some faith in our young leader,” Oren says, standing. “It’ll all work out. I have a good feeling about it.”
He gathers up the parchments and quills spread out on the table but leaves a small dark blue book. He nods toward it. “I selected that for you from my library. I believe you’ll enjoy it, when you get a moment to read.”
The urge to ask him if I look like someone who would waste my time reading rises up, but I push it away and turn as he shuffles out the door.
Rayce’s words stung more than I’d like to admit, but I have to believe he meant it when he said he would reconsider my request later. It isn’t like I haven’t seen proof they’re struggling in the short time I’ve been here, I remind myself, between their failure to save Piper’s sister and the food supply cart that resulted in the rebellion force being wiped out.
I just hope by the time Zareen can help me, there’s something left to save.
Chapter Thirteen
I turn away from the door until the sound of retreating feet stops, preferring to stay in my cage instead of following them around like a begging puppy. I understand Rayce’s decision, why he said they need to wait, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
I gather up the cherry-colored blanket on my bed and spin around, surprised to see Marin still in the cage with me. She flips through the book Oren left for me with only a marginal interest then snaps it shut.
“Looks like we’re going to be sharing a room from now on,” she says, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Hope you don’t mind too much, but I’ve been told I snore. Of course, that was from Arlo, so who really knows if it’s true.”
I raise an eyebrow at her statement, and she tilts her head, trying to figure out what I don’t understand.
“Oh, the Arlo thing!” she says, snapping her fingers. “Most people around here already know, so I forget sometimes. Arlo’s my brother.”
Now that she’s told me, it’s a wonder I didn’t guess it from the moment I saw them in the same room together. Both have the same hair color that stands out in the rebellion, almost
as much as mine does, and the exact same nose. On Arlo it looks masculine, but on Marin it’s slightly too big to be considered pretty by Delmarion standards.
“Anyway, why don’t we get going?” Marin flips the book in her hand and tucks it at her side. “I’m sure you want to be out of here as much as I do.”
She walks over to the gate, and for a moment my gut drops as I imagine her slamming it shut on me. It’s something the Gardener liked to do—promise me time out in the sun just to throw the door closed in my face.
I walk over on shaky feet and hold my breath as I walk past the bars and into a small, crudely carved tunnel. Marin gives me a little smile, leaving the door ajar, and motions for me to follow her.
“I think you’re going to like it here,” she says as she leads me up.
The farther we walk, the warmer the air becomes. The constant chill that’s slept with me since I stepped foot in the rebel base lifts from my shoulders. The tunnel walls smooth out, and large jars filled with Zarenite light up as we walk under them, showing the way.
Marin talks all through the maze of halls, turning left and then right like she has a map drawn on the back of her arm. She answers her own questions before I can respond. She’s so distracted by her own conversation she doesn’t notice I’ve stopped listening.
Her fingers grip my forearm. “Did you hear me?”
Apparently she did notice.
“No,” I say. “I’ve been trying to figure out where we’re going.”
“There’s no need,” she says, nodding to a sheet of blue fabric covering an opening in the hall. “We’re here.”
Maybe the maze is another way to make sure I don’t run.
She holds back the curtain and lets me walk in first.
Though it’s a little smaller than the cell I was locked in, the tension drops from my bones as I enter the bedroom. Everything from the cheery blue quilts covering the beds to the wobbly little desk and refurbished stool tucked up next to it screams recycled furniture. It looks like each piece was pulled from different people’s homes as they were leaving in a hurry. The three-drawer dresser has more nicks and chips in the wood than I can count. Every mismatched piece has been touched by many hands; it all has history, a past it’s not running from.
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