“With a rattie,” the Gardener says. “Ye have to chop off its head.”
No. He wouldn’t. Not here, not with a girl who isn’t his.
A lackey with long hair pulls out a thick blade from his belt. It flashes wickedly in the bright sunlight. The crowd lets out a collective gasp as Marin’s eyes grow wide. She wiggles around in her bindings, trying to swing her legs under her, but the Gardener just lifts her up higher.
I push around a woman in front of me, now just one person away from the man that held me captive most of my life.
The blade flashes again, and I stop. Marin’s brown eyes fill with tears, and her body squirms around like a fish out of water. My brain screams to help her. To move through the ring of people and use the sword the rebellion gave me to protect innocent people. If I kill the Gardener, then he can’t make good on any of his threats.
But as his kohl-lined eyes fall to the crowd and his rotten grin widens, my bones stop working. The lackey walks the sword over to the Gardener. All I keep thinking is go, go, but I can’t move. I can’t defy the man who tormented me all those years. I might have escaped my cage, but my true prison is rooted much deeper than four walls.
The lackey presents the sword the way a normal person shows off a precious diamond.
I will my hand to wrap around the comforting leather of my sword hilt. The one thing that could help me save Marin.
It hangs stationary by my side.
The Gardener accepts the blade with his free hand, his fingers doing what mine can’t. Panic claws up my throat, choking me, rooting me. How am I ever going to be able to look Arlo in the eye if Marin dies and I could have stopped it? Where is Arlo, anyway? And Rayce? He told me that he had me covered and then disappeared. Is anyone here? Are they seeing what I’m seeing?
It figures that the men in my life would disappear the moment they’re needed. Just like Park.
It’s up to me, then. I focus on my breathing. My vision darkens around the edges, and suddenly I can’t feel my feet.
Anger burns a fiery trail down my throat, loosening my bones, and I break free of my roots. I remember Rayce saying warriors can’t fight with fear, and I’m startled by how true his statement is. I push past the next man, my hand finding my sword hilt.
The Gardener brings the blade to Marin’s creamy white throat. Her terrified face reflects in the shiny metal.
I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill the Gardener.
A hand wraps around my wrist, the touch burning through my skin to my cold bones. I catch the end of a scar illuminated from his cheek as he passes in front of me. Rayce—he came back! One second, he mouths, his eyes scanning the crowd.
I nod, still wide-eyed that he didn’t abandon me completely, and he squeezes my wrist gently before the corner of his mouth twists up. I follow his gaze and see the subtle waves in the sea around us as multiple Zareeni guards shift into place.
The Gardener’s blade rises, unaware he’s being surrounded.
Rayce releases me, pushing past the person in front of him. A green stunner bolt shoots out from the crowd, knocking the blade from the Gardener’s hand. Arlo shrugs off his hood, smoke billowing from his stunner barrel.
In the time it takes for the lackeys to realize they’re being attacked, Rayce has his stunner out and shoots the tall man nearest us.
Arlo and five of the nearest Zareeni guards break away from the congregation, their stunners blazing green as they let loose a wave of bolts. I unsheathe my sword, the blade singing as I free it.
“Delmeerions!” the Gardener orders, nursing his shot hand. “Kill them!”
I whip around in time to see a horde of Delmarion soldiers spilling from the nearby houses and colliding with the townspeople. My hood slips from my head. A woman lets out a cry as the soldiers trample over foot and child to get to the center. People dodge and jump to scramble out of the way, running for the safety of their homes.
“More are coming!” I shout out to Rayce.
The Gardener’s gaze snaps to me, the only person not desperate to hide from the stampede of soldiers. Realization dawns in his dark eyes, like rot on an apple, just as Rayce shoves him away. The Gardener falls flat on his butt, and I expect the earth beneath to quake. My necklace slips out of his shirt, the ruby beckoning me. It’s the only thing besides the Flowers I want to take from him.
I tighten my grip on my sword hilt and swing it between the first plates of shiny armor I see. Blood squirts out of the soldier’s side as he falls to the ground. I look from the downed man and see at least fifty more clamoring to replace him.
“There’re too many!” Rayce shouts over trampling feet. “Rose, get back here!”
I swing around at Rayce’s voice and watch as a Zareeni woman gets tackled. A bright green bolt releases from the tip of her stunner, hurtling toward me. I jump to the left, forcing my body onto the ground, but the bolt nicks my shoulder. Electric pain blooms from the point of contact, jolting down my body in rippling waves. It’s like blacking out from Zarenite but a million times worse. Instead of being lulled into the heat, it comes all at once, frying my blood and burning through my veins. By the time I hit the ground, my vision blooms gray.
Rayce yells something at me, but all I can see is the flash of his sword as he swings it.
My body convulses, and my skin burns. Torment rushes through every ounce of my core as my head collides with the ground.
Rayce’s voice cuts through the fog descending on my brain. “Rose, get up!”
I blink through the pain, and a callused hand touches my cheek. My eyes connect with Rayce’s.
“You shouldn’t be stunned,” he says, kneeling next to me. His tone almost sounds like he’s pleading with me. “You were only grazed. Come on, stay with me.”
Stay with him?
The idea sounds pleasant and soothing, something worth fighting for. I grit my teeth against the dizzying pain and push up on my elbow.
Rayce grabs my shoulder with gentle fingers and examines the place where the stunner bolt caught my skin. A chunk of fabric from my sleeve has been blasted off, leaving a burned brown outline on the remaining section. Smoke wafts from hole. Though my skin is pink and raw, as if I jumped into water that’s too hot, it doesn’t look like I’m bleeding.
His eyes dart upward, and I follow his gaze to see a soldier charging us. Rayce snaps to his feet, throwing his sword out to parry an oncoming attack, and then I remember where I am.
Reaching out with my other hand, I feel around the grass until I find my sword and use it to push myself up off the ground.
Rayce jumps backward, avoiding another attack, and shoots the Delmarion soldier in the fleshy part of his neck with his stunner. The man twitches and goes down, taking my place in the dirt.
All around us, the battle rages. A Zareeni man screams as a soldier cuts him through the middle, while a stunner bolt zips past them, finding its mark in another soldier. The sickening smell of sweat, dirt, and blood turns my stomach.
“Listen to me,” Rayce says, grabbing my good shoulder so I focus on him. My head still spins from falling, but the world around us stops when I peer into his serious face. “Get Marin and get out of here.”
“But I can help you fight.” I tighten my grip on my sword hilt. The tip of my blade sags into the ground, the weight of it too much to bear. How did I carry it before?
His gaze flicks above my head, and I’m tempted to twist around to see what creases his brow. “Right now I’m worried about Marin. You said you’d stick by my side, and you have been. You’ve already done more for us than I expected. But please, I need you to help us one more time. Not for me but Marin. She’s in no condition to fight right now, and I don’t think she’ll be able to survive this battle if she doesn’t get some distance from the fighting.”
I bite down on my lip, indecision slicing me through. We’ve already established that my skill with blades isn’t nearly as sharp as it should be, and one day of training with the Zareeni forces is
n’t going to fix that. But I don’t want to abandon him—I mean, this fight. With the Gardener here, it’s personal.
Seeing my hesitance, Rayce points behind me. His finger leads my gaze to Arlo. Marin lies slumped by his boots, her face buried in the dirty cobblestone, and I can’t tell if she’s moving. My breathing stops. Arlo stands in front of his sister, blocking any incoming attacks with his own body, both stunners out and bolts blasting faster than I can count.
“Help her,” Rayce says.
I open my mouth to tell him I will—how could I have put my needs over my friend’s, even for a moment?—but he swings around and lashes out at a set of soldiers coming for him.
Though my legs ache and my shoulder feels like it’s on fire, I sprint for Arlo and Marin. The farther I get from Rayce, the less confident I feel about this plan, and my heart squeezes, leaving him alone on the battlefield. If only I could be in two places at once. An arrow whizzes past my head, and I roll to the ground to avoid another.
With sweat pouring down my forehead, I crawl the last few feet toward Arlo.
“What are you doing?” he shouts over the noise, his eyes flashing to me as he lets loose another green bolt.
“We have to get Marin out of here!”
He nods, stepping aside from her. “I’ll cover you both. Try to get her to the shed.”
Grabbing her by the shoulders, I roll her onto her back. Her eyes blink open, and she thrashes against me, blood trickling from the wound on her neck where the Gardener left his mark.
“You’re okay,” I say, leaning over so she can see me clearer.
She takes in a shuddering breath and moves her bound hands to her neck.
“What’s going on?” she asks, panic lacing her tone.
“Delmarion soldiers were waiting for us when we attacked,” I say. “We’re getting out of here, but first, I’m going to cut your wrists free.”
She nods, holding her hands out for me.
“Hurry!” Arlo yells.
My attention snaps to him as a soldier slips past his last bolt then brings his blade down at Arlo. He juts out one of his stunners to block, metal colliding with metal, and stumbles back a few paces.
Careful with the large blade, I slip it in between the thick brown ropes binding Marin’s hands and saw the strands apart. Her hands freed, Marin sits up, grimacing as her wounds bring on a whole new reality of pain.
“Can you walk?” I ask.
“I think so.”
I hold a hand out to her, and she takes it without any hesitation. The moment we’re both upright, she sways, nearly toppling over again. I wrap her arm around my neck to support some of her weight as Arlo shoves the barrel of his stunner in the soldier’s face and pulls the trigger.
“Be careful,” Arlo says, flipping his other stunner around to Marin. “Take this and get out of here.”
Marin accepts the weapon, the inch of powder in the clear hilt glowing green as her fingers wrap around it.
With Marin’s weight slowing me down, we hobble toward the alley nearest us on the south side. Exhaustion eats at my body as we weave around three Zareeni rebels fighting a pack of soldiers. Every step feels like agony, and if it weren’t for Marin’s body heat pressing down on me, the overwhelming pull to the ground would win.
I grit my teeth against the pain, blocking out the violent flashes of red blood and electric green bolts blooming every way I turn. I wasn’t able to save Fern or the other Flowers the night I escaped the Garden, but I will save Marin.
We slip into the nearest alleyway, the large building blocking out the sun, and the sounds of war fade behind the brick.
“How far do we need to go?” Marin asks, her voice weak and her lips white.
Dried blood stains her face in rivulets, and her curly hair sticks to her head. I’m not sure how much longer she can fight passing out.
“Not too far,” I lie, picking up our speed.
We struggle past the first building and into the alley of the next one, putting the horror of battle farther behind us. My mind wanders back to Rayce as I put one foot in front of the other.
His voice fills my head: stay with me.
And even though my body feels like it’s a breath away from collapsing, and people were trying to kill each other, and there was blood and heat and terror surging all around us, I find myself wishing I could have stayed by his side.
Chapter Eighteen
Every inch we move fills me with a hollow dread that weighs down my exhausted limbs. What horrors lie at our backs? Every time I blink, I see Arlo getting run through with a blade still trying to guard the spot where we slipped away, or Rayce surrounded by a circle of the emperor’s soldiers, brought to his knees by a thousand sword tips. The ghost of his fingertips caressing my cheek haunts me as he pleads for me to stay awake…to stay with him.
Marin and I remain quiet, but I can tell by the way she keeps peeking over her shoulder that our fears are the same.
We stagger our way toward the peeling shed at the outskirts of town. Relief floods through my body seeing it as abandoned as when we left. I lay Marin down against the splintered wood backing before slumping next to her. Darkness fades in and out of my vision as the sunset bleeds the sky red.
Finally, the sounds of heavy boot falls rouse me, and I sit up, clutching my sword with weak hands as I scan the nearest street for any movement. The familiar green and brown uniforms of the Zareeni rebels nearly bring tears to my eyes. There are far fewer of them now than the impressive force we started with, but our numbers still look strong.
I pick through the crowd, searching for the faces I recognize, and silently curse myself for turning around the statue of Yun back in Zareen.
If Rayce doesn’t come back… I can’t even finish the thought. My heart hammers in my chest as the men and women stagger through the entrance of the shed.
I catch Arlo’s lighter hair in the crowd and shake Marin awake.
Stay with me, I silently repeat over and over in my head like a prayer. He has to be somewhere among his guards. He has to be.
My weak grip tightens on the sword Rayce handed me this morning as the trail of guards nears the end.
And then I see him, helping a wounded guard in the rear of the pack. Rayce’s once pristine long vest flares out behind him, the tattered ends bloodstained, but he is in one piece. His dark hair sticks to the side of his face, and every inch of him is slick with sweat.
But he’s alive. My fingers slip from the hilt, and tears blur my vision. He’s really safe. I press my dirt-smeared hand to my lips and realize I’m trembling.
Arlo catches sight of me and runs to us, clapping me on the shoulder before bending over to help his sister. His whispers are lost to my ears as Rayce turns my way.
One of the other guards takes the man Rayce was supporting and helps him over to the shed. Rayce rubs the back of his neck, taking in a deep breath before heading toward me. His footsteps on the cobblestone sound louder than stunner shots to my ears. One moment, he’s a million miles away, and the next we’re inches apart—and I am not prepared for the way my knees buckle as he stares down at me.
“I’m relieved to see you’re both okay,” he says, his voice low with exhaustion.
Marin gives him a drained smile before Arlo helps her into the shed, leaving us completely alone, encased in the orange glow of the sun.
“Thank you so much for your help today, Rose.”
“Of course.”
Dirt caked on with sweat smears across his face, and most of his shirt is stained with dark patches of dried blood. The aftermath of war looks wrong on him, and I remember how serene his face looked when he was cleaning my wound. I want that version of him back.
“You did great,” he adds.
My hands long to embrace him, but I force the nearly overwhelming feeling aside and nod, not trusting myself to speak. It’s just the stress from today getting to me. A trick of my faulty heart and nothing more.
I look down at my feet to
keep from staring into his eyes, and a stray piece of hair falls into my face.
His long fingers brush against my hot cheek as he pushes the wavy strand behind my ear, and his touch hovers for a moment too long near my face. He pulls his hand back as our gazes lock.
He clears his throat. “We need to get the wounded back.” He swings around and walks inside the shed.
The words I want to say—I was so worried, I thought you might be dead, I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t make it back—stay lodged in my throat.
The trek back to the base crawls as a sliver of the moon streaks across the midnight sky. The stars don’t reveal themselves, mourning the fallen that lie slain in the streets of Dongsu.
By the time we retreat underground, I welcome the cold air licking my wounds, and the weight of earth above my head feels like protective arms wrapping around me. In the back of my mind, I hear the Gardener’s warning, but weariness blocks out the worst of the trauma.
Arlo helps Marin to the infirmary to treat her wounds, and I wander back to the room we share, her empty bed hollowing out a pit in my stomach.
…
I wake up cocooned in my red quilt. Green light emanates off a bundle of Zarenite on the patchwork dresser, casting an eerie glow on an old bowl of rice, shriveled baby carrots, and a slimy pan-fried egg. I slap the plate away from my face as my stomach rolls, and I try to sit up. My head pounds harder than a drum.
“After sixteen hours of slumber, the subject rouses and rejects food,” says a recognizably dull voice from the corner.
Piper. If Rayce hated me that much, why didn’t he just leave me there for the Delmarion soldiers to finish me off? I peek open my other eye, and my nausea expands.
Piper sits rigid in the corner of the room, managing to appear more uptight than the stool she sits on. She only has one shadow behind her today, and as she makes observations, the swift brush of a quill scratching parchment fills the room. Piper leans forward, pushing down her long sleeve quickly so it covers her hand. Something about her skin looked off, but I couldn’t figure it out in her quick movement.
Garden of Thorns Page 15
