After a few hours of trekking around trees, we stop in front of an opening. Standing on my tiptoes to see around a tall man in front of me, I catch sight of a patch of hard-trodden brown dirt in the form of a road.
On Rayce’s signal, the large group of Zareeni guards spread into a formation that looks like a bird, flanking both sides of the road. About twenty guards move to the right and another twenty to the left, forming the wings. Rayce leads me and Marin, as well as the remaining ten people, into a pocket in the middle, keeping a good portion of his forces between us. He leans his head into Arlo, their whispers filling the morning air. Drops of dew that collected overnight sparkle on the tips of leaves like tiny crystals, the aboveground world reminding me why I longed to be free.
As we move west on the road, my eyes keep flicking toward Rayce, even though I should be scanning our surroundings, wondering what he and Arlo could be talking about and if that crease in his forehead means he’s worried. By noon, sunlight filters through the green leaves above our heads and I lean my face toward it, welcoming the heat. Marin walks silently beside me, one hand resting comfortably on the hilt of her sword, humming quietly. Her curly hair bounces up and down in rhythm with her stride.
“Marin,” I say, unable to stand the quiet any longer.
She turns to me, a smile on her lips.
“Why did you say we were going to be friends when we first met?”
“Because you looked like you could use a few,” she says. “And besides, just because I’m tasked with guarding you doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly with each other, right?”
Despite my initial impression, I have to agree. I’m already starting to think of her as a friend.
“I want to ask you about the Garden,” Marin continues. “But I think it might be rude.”
A rueful smile slides onto my face despite my best effort to quell it.
“How about you tell me something about yourself first? Then it’s just like we’re sharing instead of you interrogating me.”
“Okay!” she says, her tight curls bouncing up and down as she nods.
Her excitement fills me with warmth, and I realize living with Marin has been as seamless as living with Fern. The second I think her name, I can feel her fingers running through my hair. I clench my jaw against the overwhelming pain that comes with seeing her face in my mind.
“Something about me,” Marin singsongs to herself. “Well, I hate my hair.” She pulls a curl to emphasis her point, and we both watch it spring back up into place. “Really, I could do without all of my Varshan traits.”
Her words snap my attention back to her face instead of her hair. “Why’s that?”
She frowns, looking off into the tree line. “My entire life, I’ve never really fit in anywhere. The Delmarions only ever saw my thick jawline and light hair and thought me too Varshan to be friends with, and I’m sure the Varshans would hate my Delmarion upbringing. It’s always felt like it’s just been me and Arlo against the world.”
“You seem to fit in well here, though.”
She meets my eyes. “I adapted here. I learned at a young age that the only way to get along with people that were never going to like you is to kill them with kindness.”
My fingers long to reach out and clutch her hand the way I’d comfort Fern when she was sad, but I keep them by my side.
“Did you join the rebellion because your brother did?”
“That’s part of the reason,” she says, her eyes somewhere faraway. “Arlo started meeting with Rayce and Oren to form the rebellion shortly after news came back that our parents’ merchant ship was lost at sea. I think that’s what made Arlo decide to go forward with it even though he was the one trying to talk Rayce out of starting it at first.”
My brow furrows, trying to follow her logic. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents, but why did that change Arlo’s view on the rebellion?”
Marin’s grip tightens on her stunner. “Because there were rumors that the emperor was responsible for them not coming back. My family imported goods from Varsha. That’s where my father met my mother. We were in competition with another family of merchants in Delmar. Unfortunately, the emperor married into our rival’s family, and even though his wife died, he took over their business, and it was speculated that he didn’t want any more competition.”
I remember the feeling of the emperor’s eyes digging into my skin as he paced around me, and I can picture him giving that order.
“Oren and Rayce tried to find proof before they split off to form the rebellion, but the emperor isn’t known for leaving threads behind.”
“That’s horrible,” I say, this time not fighting the urge to touch her lightly on the arm.
“Thanks.” She pushes the hair off her forehead and looks into the sun. “Whew, I wasn’t expecting to get into this conversation.” She brings her fingers to her eyes in a wiping motion. “It’s been a few years now, and revenge doesn’t really sustain me.”
“So then, why did you join the rebellion?”
She smiles, and it looks natural on her. “I remember slipping out of bed and tiptoeing down the hallways, sneaking past the guards and listening in as my brother and Rayce and Oren met late in the evenings to go over plans. I knew even then that I was going to be a part of the world they wanted to build.”
“What did they say?” I ask, leaning closer to her. My gaze darts around for eavesdroppers, but no one seems to be listening. Maybe they already know her story.
“Just what the rebellion would be fighting for. They want to bring a voice back to the people,” Marin says. “For so long, we’ve been told by the emperor what jobs to do, whom to marry, what we can and can’t say. There’s no beauty, no art, no freedom to practice a religion other than his, no room for difference. No room for someone like me.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Or you, Varshan. But in the world we’re fighting for, we’ll all have a place. We’ll all have the freedom of choice.”
Her passion makes my world feel tiny. “And here all I want to do is free the Flowers and disappear.”
Her eyes brighten with sincerity. “That’s okay, too, Rose. You don’t owe this empire anything. Not after what the Garden did to you. If I were you I’d ask Yun to curse us all.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Her hand tightens around the hilt of her sword. “It’s what I would mean.”
I turn away, trying to catch the breath that flew out of my lungs. Marin is the kind of girl who would have made it in the Garden—but if the rebellion helps me destroy the Garden, she’ll never have to. No girl ever will again.
Without warning, the guards ahead halt, and I nearly slam into the man in front of me. Rayce marches to the front of our platoon and every head turns in his direction. In his crisp uniform, he looks the part of a shogun, dark eyes alert and sword at the ready.
“Dongsu is less than a mile out,” Rayce says, shielding his eyes from the sunlight. “We’re in dangerous territory now and need to use extreme caution. Sectors Sì and Wŭ, fan out and scout ahead. We’ll wait for further intel before making any tactical moves.”
Every hand forms into a fist and pounds on the right side of the chest in response. Arlo makes his way across the road toward us as thirteen guards split off from the formation and divide into two sections.
“Shing, you’re free to report to Wŭ,” Arlo says to Marin. “The shogun and I will take responsibility for your charge.”
Marin nods. “Yes, sir.”
Her tone is brisk, but there’s an echo of laughter behind her words. It must be strange being so formal with her brother. Giving me a wink, she turns on her heel and then heads to the left side of the road, making that group even with the section on the right.
Arlo rubs his fingers through his goatee, his eyes trained on Marin’s retreating form.
“Shing,” he calls out after her, the hint of a grimace touching his face. She turns at her name, and he says, “Be careful out there, okay? Remember
your training, and at any sign of trouble—”
“I can do this.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you inside Dongsu, brother.”
“Why did I let Rayce convince me to allow her to join our cause?” Arlo whispers, closing his eyes for a moment.
“She seems confident enough,” I offer.
“That’s what I worry about. She could have chosen to do anything in the rebellion; she had her pick. And she decided to be a scout.”
Arlo and I watch as she connects with her unit and dives into the forest. The trees swallow her into their looming darkness like a beast’s jaws.
Rayce walks up behind Arlo, and the smells of sugar and leather wash over me. “She’ll be fine,” he says, patting Arlo’s shoulder. “Come on, we need to get off the road.”
He gently tugs Arlo a few steps away from the spot Marin disappeared into, but I can’t make my feet move. Seeing him up close again, with his neatly shaven face and well-fitting clothes, tramples any sense I had about me.
“You, too, Rose,” he says, beckoning me backward. “We’re responsible for you until Marin makes it back safely.”
I follow them. We move with the remaining forty guards into the other side of the forest, stopping at a nearby clearing. The grass dotting the break in the trees lies broken and trampled, and the burned remnants of old fires dots the area. Someone must’ve used this as a base of operations before.
Twenty of the guards form a tight ring around the trees, each one holding a stunner at the ready as they scan the quiet forest for any sign of movement.
Rayce and Arlo stand on either side of me.
“I can’t imagine the scouts will find much up ahead,” Arlo says, looking to Rayce for confirmation. “The early reports detailed an unorganized force.”
“That’s right.” Rayce nods.
Arlo shakes out his hands, shifting his weight to his left side and exhaling.
Rayce looks down at me. “But I would be prepared for some type of resistance when we breach the town.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I say, resting my hand on the warm hilt of the sword strapped to my side.
“If your skills with a sword aren’t any better than with a knife, I’m not sure I’d rely on that too much,” Rayce says, pulling a small cookie from a pouch at his side.
“That isn’t very nice.” I cross my arms over my middle.
Rayce chuckles at that. “You’re kind of cute when you pout.”
I swing away so he can’t see my face, because the traitorous thing is suddenly on fire. Why should I care if he thinks I’m cute?
The sunlight bleeds through the thick treetops, casting bright yellow patches on the trampled grass. “Just stick by me if a scuffle breaks out,” he says, then pops the morsel into his mouth. “If the forces are really as disorganized as the reports made them out to be, I can’t imagine this taking more than an hour.”
I furrow my brow as he talks around the cookie in his mouth. He closes his eyes for a second, relishing the taste, and looks so childlike I’m taken aback. He opens one eye, pulls another cookie from the pouch, and holds it out.
“It’s sweet. You’ll like it.”
My growling stomach betrays me, and I snatch the cookie, trying hard to ignore the smug smile on his face—as if he thinks he’s won some big battle instead of a silly argument. I throw the thing in my mouth, resolved to scarf it down with as little fanfare as possible, and a blast of syrupy honey explodes on my tongue. For such a small thing, it packs a flavorful punch, and despite my previous determination not to, I savor the taste.
“It’s a honey crisp,” Rayce says. “One of my earliest memories is of learning how to knead the dough under my mother’s watchful eyes.”
“Did you make this?” I ask.
“I did.” He hands me another one. “I find cooking relaxing. Back in the palace, I wasn’t permitted to cook. According to my uncle, it wasn’t a skill fit for the throne. I don’t bother with his nonsense now that I live at the base.”
I run my fingers through the wavy end of my braid. “I saw you cooking breakfast yesterday,” I admit.
He shrugs, popping another honey crisp into his mouth. “It’s a small way I can give back, and I enjoy it. Being in the dining hall lets me meet with people I wouldn’t normally get to see if I just stuck to the military.”
“Well, your mother must be happy with your cooking skills now.”
The smile he wore dies. “Probably not, since she wanted me to follow my uncle’s succession and become the next emperor. I can’t imagine she’s happy with much of anything I do these days.”
He rubs his face, his scar twisting as his brow furrows. Now that he’s frowning, I find myself missing the way his lips looked when he smiled, and I wish we could go back to him teasing me. I’ll take the smug look on his face over the sadness emanating from his dark eyes any day.
“That must be hard,” I say.
He clears his throat. “Not nearly as difficult as trying to perfect her recipe without her input.”
He offers me another cookie, and when I take it, my fingers brush his palm. It’s callused, worn from years of sword training. My hands aren’t smooth, either, but compared to his they must feel silky as petals.
“These really aren’t bad,” I say.
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as the highest form of praise.”
We take turns eating honey crisps as the moments drag on. He asks me what I think about Zareen and if I’m adjusting well. I can’t tell if he actually cares or is trying to pass the time, but I find myself hoping it might be a little bit of both. As we talk, I’m acutely aware of the glances we receive from the rest of the troop and can’t figure out whether they are looking to their leader for instruction or at the newcomer clinging to him.
With every ticking heartbeat, the panic in my chest spreads. How long do these scouting missions usually take? Did something go wrong?
Only when Arlo begins to pace back and forth do I realize my worry is justified. Looking up at the sky, I guess it’s a few hours past noon at this point.
Sweat sticks the back of my uniform to my neck, and I pull my braid over my shoulder to let my skin breathe.
The lines under Rayce’s eyes tighten. He stands and takes a step toward a man with long dark hair past his shoulders, but then the sound of twigs snapping to our left sends our attention that way.
An older man, in a uniform identical to the one I wear, stumbles through the woods, blood staining one of his pant legs.
Two of the guards in our circle formation break it, sheathing their stunners and running to help the injured man into the clearing.
Rayce breaks out in a sprint for the man, Arlo hot on his heels. I follow, my heart hammering in my chest.
The two guards lay the man down in a bed of dead leaves, and one of the women pulls a familiar-looking brown bottle and clean gauze from her pack.
“Report,” Rayce says firmly.
The injured man nods, no longer paying attention to the other guards surrounding him.
“We walked into an ambush, Shogun.” He winces as the woman presses a cloth to his wound. Rayce kneels next to him, and the man continues. “There was a Delmarion squadron waiting for us in the forest near town.”
“The others?” Arlo says, his tone rising. “In Wŭ. Are they okay?”
The man shakes his head. “They were all captured. Your sister managed to convince them we were a lone group of intel scouts before they knocked her out. The only reason I slipped away was because the strange group of men didn’t notice me.”
Arlo presses his hands over his face. My stomach drops. Marin. I know better than anyone how harsh a cage can feel after tasting freedom. I hoped she’d never have to experience that. Now…
“What do you mean by strange?” I ask.
Rayce gives me a sideways glance and nods for the man to speak.
“They weren’t Sun soldiers,” he says, his voice shaking. “They weren’t even in unif
orm, but they definitely weren’t friendly.”
“Who would capture Zareeni rebels if not the emperor?” Arlo asks.
“Maybe soldiers in plain clothes,” Rayce says, scratching his chin. “My uncle’s done something like that before.”
“We have to get them back,” Arlo shouts over our conversation. “Now.”
“We’re going to,” Rayce says. “But we need to act fast.”
He stands, signaling for the rest of the guards to gather around. As they press into the clearing, space grows tighter, but even as I scoot closer to Rayce, it doesn’t feel like we have nearly enough people.
“We’re throwing away our element of surprise for speed,” Rayce says. “We’ll take the road. Every second counts. Fèng, Yù, stay here and tend to Li’s wound. The rest of you, follow my lead. Hand signals only from this moment out.”
The guards don’t salute this time, turning sharply on boot heels and running back toward the road, eyes strained and mouths grim. Arlo leads the way, unhooking a stunner from his belt as he runs.
I turn to go and Rayce catches my arm. “Remember what I said. Stay close, okay?”
Not trusting myself to speak, I nod. He levels me with a stare like he’s expecting something more from me. After a long moment, too long for the little time we have, he clenches his jaw and motions for me to follow him.
We sprint through the woods on reckless feet, branches scratching against my uniform as I jump over roots. All I can think about is Marin putting her arm around me the way Fern used to. She’s the first friend I’ve made outside the Garden, and all of this feels terrifyingly familiar. I promised Fern that I would always have her back, no matter what.
But the last time I was in a dire situation, I let her die.
Chapter Sixteen
The hard-packed dirt grinding under my boots as we sprint toward Dongsu feels a lot less friendly without Marin next to me. The troop was packed in four to a line by the time Rayce and I broke through the trees, and Rayce took his place in the middle, pointing for me to stand a row back. The moment I fell in line, Arlo held his palm out and all forty-something boots began to move in unison.
Garden of Thorns Page 13
