His mouth loosens, and I can’t tell if it’s relief or disappointment shining from his eyes.
“You, too, Rose.” He gives me a weak smile, hand still gripping the tent fabric. “Before I go, I wanted to ask you about what happened to the man that turned you in to the Gardener.”
“What do you mean?” I sit up straighter on the cot.
“Back at the base, you’d mentioned something about it being a man that turned you over to the Gardener when you were younger. Do you know what ever happened to him?”
A frown falls onto my lips. “Nothing happened to him. He was someone I thought I could trust and he betrayed me. Why?”
Rayce shakes his head. “He must have been stupid, this coward. Clearly, he had no idea what a precious thing he was giving up.”
Before I can respond, he pushes through the flaps, leaving me to unravel his last words.
I watch the fabric until it stops swaying, all signs that Rayce was ever here disappearing with the movement, and curl into myself. Even now, without a guard or a ton of rocks to trap me, I am not free to do as I really please. I can’t seem to break the chains still tightening around my soul. If I could, my mouth would have obliged, and maybe Rayce would still be here to keep me warm.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Morning brings the memory of Rayce’s eyes as he waited by the tent flap for me to speak three little words: stay with me. My mouth betrayed me, though, fear rendering my body a prisoner. I held those words close for the rest of the night, wishing the darkness would end and dreading morning coming.
I sit up on my cot, a dull ache spreading from my back, and notice a tiny scrap of parchment resting on my pack. Pulling on my boots from the end of my cot, I plop down into the mud covering the ground and pad over to my bag, snatching the piece of parchment. It crinkles under my touch. The small, tight script looks like it was written in haste.
Stick close to Arlo. I’ve instructed him to keep an eye out for you. I’ll see you soon, and please, just fare well today.
—Rayce
A blot of ink stains the page right before his name, but whatever else he wanted to say is lost between the lines.
The message he did write reminds me of what I’m about to do. Today we march on Imperial City, and if all goes well, I’ll have a chance to help at least one girl take back her freedom.
I walk back to my cot and slip off my muddy boots.
My fingers struggle to pull the clingy gray pants, created specifically for this mission, over my hips. They fit like a second skin. I strap a harness to my waist and eye the corner of Oren’s book peeking out from under my pillow. I grab it and then hold it over my bag to drop it in, but my fingers won’t let go. It reminds me too much of the man who gifted it to me, and right now, I need to channel his calm.
I pull out the waistband of my gray pants and tuck the book against my back. Then I attach a leg holster to my left thigh, slip on a white silk under robe and a sky-blue one over it, drape a matching piece of white cloth over my head to cover my hair, slip back into my boots, and shoulder my pack.
Ready as I’ll ever be.
Outside, the rain has bowed out, giving center stage to a blue sky and the large yellow-white spotlight of the sun. Every tent but ours and two others has disappeared while I slept.
“Ready to go?” Arlo asks, coming up behind me.
“No,” I say. “But I guess I’m never going to be.”
…
Being back in Imperial City, the place where my life outside the Garden started, is surreal. The upper-class marketplace looks just as I remember it when I passed through in my cart, but the air tastes fresher now that I’m not confined in a wooden cage. Cherry blossom petals litter the cobblestone. The four temples honoring each of Delmar’s deities surround the square on all sides, in various states of disarray.
Arlo and I face the spring temple, the only one that’s been restored to its former glory. Its freshly painted six-tiered green roofs wrap around the long, straight main tower. A serene pond brimming with lily pads and koi fish sits in front of the temple, a navy-colored bridge arching out of the water like the back of a sea serpent. Since it’s the time of year to honor the goddess Lin, large paper lanterns in every color sway in the wind throughout the open temple, and small wooden boats sail the tranquil pond, candles burning day and night as an offering for good crops.
The palace walls spring up tall and imposing to my right, but there’s no sign of the Garden’s tent or any hint of me ever having been here. Somewhere locked inside, the emperor sits with no clue that his precious city is about to be thrown into chaos.
Arlo grabs my hand, pulling my attention away from my phantom past.
“What do you think, my love?” he asks, holding up a shiny red apple. “A bushel for thirteen silver? The price seems a little steep to me.”
I frown at the fruit he presents. We’re supposed to blend in by posing as husband and wife, but it’s proving hard to concentrate, knowing what’s about to happen. The crowd presses close together in the small marketplace looped around a fountain depicting a golden dragon snaking around lily pads. The air is saturated with the smells of fresh bread, ripe fruit, newly blooming flowers, and sweat—both human and animal. Hidden among the unfamiliar faces of women shopping for their family’s next meal and Delmarion guards clad in full armor are Zareeni guards stationed in small clusters, awaiting a signal from their shogun to draw their weapons and fight.
“Do you think the price is worth it?” Arlo raises the apple to my face.
“I guess,” I say.
I scan the crowd, searching for some sign of Rayce. Our conversation from last night replays in my head. What did he mean about me being precious? The fact that I didn’t get to say good-bye to him this morning eats at me. What if something happens to one of us, or what if he’s already been captured?
My breath catches thinking about him forced to his knees, blade at his throat. If something happened to him, I don’t know what the rebellion would do. His face was so heavy with worry last night, illuminated by the warm light. My skin still feels raw where he touched it, and I keep imagining the sorrow plaguing his eyes as he talked about his uncle’s men killing all those people. If they’re willing to do that to innocents, what would they do to Rayce if they caught him?
Maybe trying to accomplish all these goals at once wasn’t such a good idea. What if the Zareeni forces are spread too thin? Since I arrived, we’ve come up against the Delmarion soldiers several times and barely escaped to tell the tale. I can almost hear the thumping sound of their crossbows firing at our backs as we ran from the city the night I fled the Garden.
I pull the wrap of my robe closed tighter, trying to block out the chill that licks my skin even though the sun beats down high above our heads. Fear seizes my chest as I imagine all the horrible ways this day could go wrong.
The lady in the short red robe behind the booth raises an eyebrow at my lack of enthusiasm.
“Ah, the wife’s a shy one.” Arlo pats my cheek affectionately. It takes all my willpower not to wince at his touch. I know Arlo wouldn’t hurt me, but after so many years of abuse, my instincts still need time to adjust.
“Stay focused,” he whispers under his breath.
“How?” I whisper back. “There’s so much that could go wrong.”
A hint of a smile touches his lips as he reaches up and adjusts my wrap over my head, pulling it farther down to cover my face.
“Everything’s going to work out,” he says with a wink. “I’ll keep you safe, I swear it.”
I’m surprised by the sincerity in his voice, and the knot in my stomach loosens.
He turns his charming smile toward the merchant. “You aren’t shy, though, are you? And you’re going to give me a great deal, right?”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” the lady says. “Flattery’s going to get you nowhere with—hey, what’s going on out there?” She points, and we follow her finger.
One of the Sun soldi
ers clutches a cloaked figure by the shoulder, in front of a large bronze dragon water fountain in the middle of the square. The man tries to pull away from the soldier’s grasp, but the soldier swings him around, and the hood of the cloak falls from the man’s face.
“Hey, you better—” The soldier’s voice cuts off midthreat as he takes in the long scar twisting across the face plastered on every building in Delmar.
Rayce’s lips split into a smile big enough to see from here.
“You look like you’ve been touched by Yun,” he says to the shocked soldier.
“You’re the—you’re—Shogun Sun!” the soldier shouts, fumbling for his sword with his other hand while he tries to keep a good grasp on Rayce’s cloak.
“Nothing gets past you,” Rayce says, his voice far too cheery for the occasion. If I hadn’t seen with my own eyes how all of this weighs so heavily on him, I’d think he was enjoying it. But it’s all an act, and he’s good at it. His part of this mission is to create distraction, chaos.
“Zareeni vermin!” the soldier shouts.
“You heard him, ‘Zareeni vermin,’” Rayce says, raising his voice. “Attack!”
About eighty Zareeni guards drop their ruse as citizens at the same time, shedding their cloaks and jackets to reveal stunners and swords.
Their sudden appearance shakes the market square. A lady from the next booth lets out a piercing scream that grows into a chorus of voices and ignites a stampede. Zareeni guards rush to defend Rayce while citizens head for exits, only to find them clogged with soldiers rushing toward the commotion. Arlo grabs my hand and follows the flood of townspeople dashing for the nearest palace gate.
We head under the huge stone overpass and right into the center of the palace without so much as a glance from anyone. Arlo holds me close, shielding me from the brunt of the crowd, but one soldier rips between us, separating Arlo from me and slamming my shoulder into the gray stone wall of the palace.
Arlo fights his way over to me. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
I grit my teeth against the pain and roll my shoulder back as we rush down the little path just inside the palace. According to the map now burned into my brain, the secret entrance to the prison lies near the innermost eastern building. In order to encourage wealth, the first emperor had the palace constructed with two of every building and a gate that surrounds each set of structures.
As we’re walking, eight more disguised Zareeni guards filter in behind us. Suki nods her head at me before she pulls her long hair back in a tie off her shoulders. We cross under another overpass and step into the courtyard lined with cherry trees in full bloom.
The melody of a lone flute winds into my ears from someone practicing nearby. I turn toward the music and stop cold. Remnants of the Garden’s purple tent sit abandoned on the scorched grass, and snaking around it are the faces of the twelve girls I abandoned, painted on our cages. The Gardener must have left the Flowers and Wilteds safe within the city while he went out to search for me.
Two poles draw my eyes upward, and my stomach nearly spills its contents onto the ground. As the Gardener threatened, the heads of Star and Sickle sit fastened to the poles—a warning to anyone who passes by. A warning to me.
“No,” I whisper, stretching my hand out.
I should turn myself in right now.
My feet are suddenly bare, covered in dried blood. Fern’s blood. I have to run, but I’ve planted roots in this spot. I promised Fern, and I’ve let her down yet again.
A hand falls lightly on my shoulder. I follow the blue sleeve up to Arlo’s face. His light brown eyes sparkle in the midday sunlight, full of concern.
“Rose, we have to keep moving,” he whispers.
“I did that,” I say, unable to peel my gaze away from the gruesome sight of Star and Sickle’s dead stares. “They’re dead because of me.”
My hands shake at the thought of giving myself up. Rayce would never forgive me, and Piper might bust me out just to murder me herself. But I’d also save the rest of the girls from this fate. I wouldn’t free them, but they wouldn’t die because of me, either.
“You had nothing to do with it,” Arlo says, placing a hand on my shoulder and forcing me to look at his face. Compared to the paintings of my family, he looks blurry and saturated, as if he isn’t real. “You can’t control a lunatic’s actions. The Gardener did that.”
“But I—”
“Repeat it with me,” he interrupts. “The Gardener killed those girls.”
“The Gardener—” I can only nod the rest, emotion clogging my throat.
“I know it’s hard, but we have to stay focused,” Arlo says. “Oren and the others will be here any minute, and they will put a stop to that horror show. Do you understand?”
I lick my chapped lips, still not finding my voice.
“Please,” he says. “We can’t help Kyra without you.”
As he speaks, a man walks out from underneath the purple-and-white-striped tent set up in the middle of the carts. His quick steps and jerky movement shake me to my core.
Shears.
My fist feels like lead. He hasn’t seen us yet, but if we don’t move, it won’t be long before he does.
I can do this.
Rayce put himself at risk in order to give us this chance to save the rest of my sisters and Kyra. I have to do my part. The wind changes suddenly, hurtling the noxious song of the flute away from us.
“You’re right,” I say, focusing on Arlo. “Let’s go.”
He nods, and we hurry through the courtyard, once again leaving the Garden at my back. The deeper we wade into the palace grounds, the less populated the areas become. We pass a blur of serenity ponds, large open pavilions honoring shrines that look like they’ve never been used, and buildings laden with lace woodwork growing more intricate with every step. We walk until the sun disappears behind the looming palace walls and my legs burn from exertion.
Finally, we reach the two innermost buildings. Both pale blue towers shoot up, almost like they aim to scrape the bottoms of the clouds, and eight silver roofs wrap around each level. Lurking on one of those floors is the man who started this war, who has been hunting me.
“I never thought I’d see these towers up close in my entire life,” Suki says, shaking her head as she continues on with the rest of the small guard.
We head for the east tower, coming to a halt at the base. While Suki counts out paces with her feet, all I can focus on is whether Oren has led the attack on the Garden yet and if Rayce is okay in the middle of the courtyard. The last time I saw him, he was locked in a fight with a Sun soldier, his face twisted up in rage as he pushed him back with his sword.
Suki’s pace count reaches eighty, and three guards rush to help her pry up several artfully placed stones. Every rock they uproot reveals the shiny metal surface of the long-forgotten entrance of Imperial City’s dungeon.
I lean down and trail my finger along the cool surface that was sealed off ages ago. A thick metal chain with links as wide as my hand coils around the door handles.
Suki’s shoulder brushes mine as she leans down next to me and yanks on the chains. The links are welded together, with no lock and no hope of ever coming apart.
“How are we supposed to get in?” I ask.
“With this.” Arlo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a square-shaped metal contraption that fits in the palm of his hand. Pointing one end at the metal, he flicks a switch, and flame begins to eat away at the chain. The moment the halves clatter onto the metal doors, Arlo holds the device out to me. “You may as well keep it. You’ll need it to cut the bars off Kyra’s cage.”
I study the device, turning it in my fingers until I find the small switch, and then I shove it into my pocket. Suki and I work on opposite ends of the chain, unlooping it from the handles.
“Thanks.” I give her a grateful smile.
Two of the other guards grab the handles to the entrance we just unlocked and wrench t
he double doors open, revealing a dark hole in the ground, gaping wide like a mouth.
“We’re going into that?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“Sadly,” Arlo says.
“Why couldn’t they have kept her in a field guarded by puppies?”
“That’d be worse.” He shivers. “I don’t trust puppies. Shifty eyes.”
“You’re very odd.”
“Thank you.”
Suki volunteers to go first, leading our group into the endless darkness. Once we’re inside, I untie my sash and rip off my robes, revealing the skintight gray suit underneath.
I leave my robes on the first step and hurry to catch up with the others, who have already faded into the darkness. No one speaks, but the stale air fills with the constant tap-tap of our boots.
The farther we go, the heavier the rock feels above us. It’s like my body can sense every inch we drop. After several minutes, a small orange flame bursts to life up ahead from a metal contraption that Arlo holds, illuminating the cave. I blink through the brightness, my shoulder brushing against the bumpy tunnel walls. Water oozes down the rock, staining the stone black. The air is damp, and every breath leaves a moldy taste on my tongue.
Before we came here, I didn’t believe that any place could be more depressing than the inside of my cart, but the dungeon entrance proves me woefully wrong. Even with the light, the walk takes forever. My heart beats out the seconds, and the full magnitude of what we’re attempting hits me hard.
A five-hundred-foot drop over stalagmites to rescue a little girl, guarded by who knows how many soldiers.
My stomach churns, my food threatening to come up for the second time today. I try to stanch the panic by recalling Kyra’s face from the picture Piper gave me. She’s counting on us.
A door comes into view, cutting off my thoughts. Arlo moves the meager light near the door, and my heart drops. A thick line runs down the metal doors where they’ve been welded shut.
Arlo turns, the light moving with him to illuminate his face. “All right,” he whispers into the darkness. “Tāng, Shĭ, get to work on the door.”
Garden of Thorns Page 21
