“I can’t promise you’ll make it out in one piece, though,” he says, banging on the side of my cart. “But how pretty will you be lying on the grass in chunks?”
His manic laughter floats away from my cart as he leaves me in the darkness to picture his last statement. The banging of the stage being built mixes with the sound of Fern’s final screams in my crowded head. I throw my blood-soaked hands over my ears to block out the noise, but it follows me behind my eyelids.
Oren will die if I can’t figure out a way to stop it.
…
The sunlight disappears from the floor of my cage, draining the last of my hope with its fleeting fingers. The emperor will meet with the Gardener tomorrow, and Oren will die. The sun might as well stay set, because if that happens there will be no light left in the world. Last I checked, the sliver of a moon was already high in the sky, casting the world in a sickly blue tinge.
I run my fingers through my hair, trying to mimic the way Fern used to, but I find no comfort in the jerky movements.
The construction of the platform stopped sometime around sunset. I thought the constant banging would drive me mad, but the silence cuts sharper. This deafening quiet means everything is prepared for the Gardener’s sickening performance tomorrow.
I close my eyes, rocking back and forth in the darkness, my chest swelling with emptiness.
Knock, knock, knock.
My eyes snap open, and I reach instinctively for my sword. My fingers grasp hay instead. Has Shears come back to haunt me in the night like a ghost? I still, drowning in the silence that follows as I listen for some other movement.
“Rose?” comes a familiar whisper near the front of my cart.
I wrap my arms around my shoulders and shake my head. Have I finally lost my mind in the solitude of my cage? Because I almost recognized that voice, the same one that painted a future I wanted to live in, that brought me back to life after escaping the Garden the first time. I can almost feel the strength of Rayce’s embrace surrounding me, the scents of honey and spice tickling my nose.
“Rose, are you in there?” comes the same voice again.
His words break through the fog in my mind.
I scurry across my cart, rustling the hay to the side, and press my ear to the splintered surface of my door. Placing a trembling hand where the voice came from, I take a deep breath.
I utter the name that’s been stuck on my lips for the past two days. “Rayce?”
My heart slams in my chest, hope bursting through my veins, as I wait for a reply.
“Yes, it’s me,” he says, his voice muffled by the door. “Hang on, I’m going to get you out.”
He came back for me. Even though I left him, he came back.
The realization floods my body, pumping blood back into my veins, and my lungs restart, filling with fresh air. Light explodes in my mind as bright as the green Zarenite cracking to life in the dull walls of the rebellion base.
“Okay,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
I listen in the silence, each tinny sound of metal clinking sending a wave of panic swirling in my stomach. But when he grows quiet, I worry he might have given up—or worse, I imagined the whole thing. The seconds multiply.
Finally, it gives way underneath my cheek. I reach out and catch the widening opening before it can swing out too far.
Through the crack, I make out a strip of Rayce’s scarred face. His dark eye meets mine, concern pooling through its depths. My fingers shake, longing to reach out and smooth the anxious crinkles of his forehead. A moment ago, I was sure the only things I’d ever have of him to hold to were memories, and now he’s inches away.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“The door squeaks,” I say, sliding my legs out from underneath me.
He nods, stepping to the side, leaving nothing blocking my escape but a thin strip of night sky. Holding the door in place with one hand, I slide sideways through the opening, contorting my body until I’m in a C shape to slip through.
My bare feet touch the prickly grass, and I straighten, closing the door behind me. A slight breeze caresses my face, blowing away the stagnating heat that clung to my body inside the cart. From where I stand, I see the abandoned houses continue down the faded main road, debris and piles of rotted wood littering the streets.
And in front of them is the man I thought I needed to run from.
Tatters creep up the bottom of his long black vest like unruly vines, and his stubble has grown into a small black beard covering his chin. His dark hair hangs wild over his knitted forehead, and his lips are parted ever so slightly, like he can’t quite believe what he’s looking at. The moonlight cast him with a grayish-blue tone—every hard edge of him in perfect detail. He’s so exquisite standing here in the middle of this horror show that it hurts, but I can’t keep my hungry eyes off him.
“Are you injured?” he asks, his voice scratchy.
“Not too badly,” I say. “Shaken but not really physically hur—”
Before I can finish my sentence, his strong arms embrace me, folding me into his chest. His beard tickles my neck as he pulls me closer, like his touch can erase all the pain and hopelessness that have plagued me since I left the camp.
Helpless against his warmth, I wrap my hands around his neck, his silky hair soft against my cheek, and lean into him, every hint of worry I had falling away as I fit into the flexed muscles of his chest. His hand makes a slow circle on the small of my back, and he lifts me an inch off the ground, the tips of the grass kissing the bottoms of my feet.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be able to find me this time,” I say.
“I will always find you,” he whispers, nuzzling the tip of his nose into my exposed neck. “When we found your pack, I rounded up as many people as I could and tracked you into the plains. The moment I saw wagon tracks, I knew who had captured you, but I feared we might be too late.”
At the mention of time, I stiffen in his embrace. Rayce pulls his head off my shoulder, setting me back on the ground, and frowns slightly at my sudden change in mood.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“We have to find Oren and free my sisters. The Gardener said your uncle will be here in the morning, and they’re going to execute him.”
The relief shining in Rayce’s eyes fades, and he lets go of me. The moment we part, my skin longs for his again. A week ago this need to be near him would’ve bothered me, but after believing I might not ever get to see the way his scar ripples over his skin when he’s worried or to feel the weight of his kind eyes on mine, I welcome the need that rises in my chest.
We both look at the night sky, and my stomach drops. The stars have faded back in their blankets, and the moon has fallen from its perch in the sky. At best we have an hour until dawn.
“We saw two sets of footprints,” Rayce says. “And Oren was missing in the morning, too, so we assumed both of you had been taken. I have others swarming the camp looking for him.”
I twirl the end of my braid, looking down in thought.
“I have to free my sisters,” I say, “but you should find Oren.”
Glancing up, I see the indecision weighing the corner of Rayce’s mouth down. He rubs a hand across his chin, the scratchy sound of his beard scraping against his palm filling the silence in the air.
“I trust my people,” Rayce says, but his voice wavers with uncertainty. “They will find him and report back to me. I’m going to help you like I promised.”
Knowing I won’t have to run through the Garden by myself steadies my pounding heart, and the relief of not parting with Rayce after finding him again washes over me as tenderly as when he bandaged my wound. I know there are things I have to tell him, hard things that will test us both, but right now I’m just happy he’s staying by my side.
“You forgot this back at camp,” Rayce says, pulling the sword I’d been using out of a second scabbard strapped to his side. “I figured I’d hold onto it until I could return it to you
.”
My fingers wrap around the familiar hilt, the leather squeaking its recognition underneath my grip. Power surges through my body like wind through a tunnel, and I grit my teeth, ready for whatever lies ahead.
I open my mouth to thank Rayce, but another voice cuts off my own.
“I see a snake’s snuck into our little Garden,” Shears says from behind me.
Rayce and I both spin to face him, toward the center of the small circle the Garden carts make. Shears walks forward, his hands tucked in his pockets and a pleasant smile on his face. His teeth practically glow in the dim light. Flanking him are four other lackeys brandishing moonlit swords, except for one in the back who aims a crossbow at Rayce’s head.
I clutch my sword tighter, moving back until I touch the door of my cart.
“Be careful,” I whisper to Rayce.
He takes a step in front of me, hand falling to the grip of his stunner.
“I didn’t think I’d get to see blood until morning,” Shears says, twisting to pull out his cutting blades.
His movements are methodical, ordinary, unafraid, like he’s reaching down to tie his shoe instead of getting ready to fight for his life.
“Stand down and we might spare your lives,” Rayce says, pulling out his sword instead. I already know Rayce’s words will fall onto deaf ears, but he hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting the very worst the Gardener has to offer. Shears will always choose blood.
As if he can hear my thoughts and wants to prove me wrong, Shears holds up his hands in front of him, his double blades hanging slack, like he’s going to surrender. I blink back my surprise. The four lackeys behind him look at each other, wondering if they should follow suit.
Then Shears swings his hands back up and smiles. “I wonder what her scream will sound like this time when I cleave you in two, snake.”
An arrow whizzes in the air next to Rayce’s cheek, and he jerks out of the way to avoid it. Shears charges at the same time, blades aimed at Rayce’s middle. I see the blade coming for Rayce, trying to take away the one person I’ve come to truly care for, and the fear in my heart vanishes. I wasn’t able to keep my promise and save Fern, but Shears will not touch another person close to me.
I lash out in front of Rayce, my sword singing as it collides with Shears’s double blades. His smile widens, seeing who he’s caught.
“So you’re going to fight me, huh, little Flower?” he asks, his hot breath washing over me.
He pushes against my blade, the muscles in his arms flexing, and I strain against him, throwing all my weight forward. My arm begins to buckle, and I jump back.
As I retreat, Rayce swings at one of the lackeys coming for him, his clean blade now slick with blood. The lackey falls to his knees behind Rayce as he hammers toward the crossbow shooting at him.
Stay with me. Stay safe.
Sensing my momentary shift in focus, Shears lunges after me, his hand catching my wrist. His fingers clamp down on my bone, and he yanks me toward him. I throw my weight behind me, but my bare feet slip against his might. With his other hand, he swings his shears at my waist.
I flick my sword up, catching the first blade.
The second blade frees itself, slicing through the back of my hand. I stumble back, blood sprouting from the gash, and suck in air through my teeth to keep a scream trapped in my throat.
I readjust my grip, pain shooting up my arm.
Shears brings the blades up to his face and touches the sharp edge, pulling back some of my blood on his fingertips.
“You certainly bleed a pretty color,” he says. “Let’s see how beautiful the rest of you bleeds.”
He charges toward me, but this time I’m ready. I jump out of the way, throwing my fist into his face. The bones in his nose crunch against the back of my fingers, and for the first time in my life, I hear Shears howl in pain. Blood pours from his nostrils, streaking down his face and into his mouth.
Shears’s muffled cries pump adrenaline through my body, and I pull back for another punch.
He drops his signature blades, his hand lashing out to wrap around my neck, then he yanks me to him, pinning my back to his chest. His fingernails dig into the side of my neck, and precious air slips out of my lungs.
My sword falls from my fingers as he lifts me off the ground. I kick out behind me, but I can’t get enough thrust to make it hurt.
Shears twists us around as the sun begins to reveal its pink center over the horizon. I catch sight of Rayce’s back bathed in the soft light as one of the two remaining lackeys nicks him on the shoulder.
“You sure you want to keep a Flower, pretty boy?” Shears asks, raising his voice, his grip around my neck tightening. “They’re fragile.”
Rayce swings around, his blade flashing in the air, and our eyes connect.
“And they die very easily,” Shears continues, nuzzling his nose across my cheek.
My lungs scream for air. I reach up, using my fingernails to try to claw his hand off my vocal pipe, struggling to yank his hand down. Tears spring to my eyes as my vision begins to blur.
Rayce’s mouth twists in worry, his hand sliding down to his belt. I see the barrel of a stunner as white dots float in front of me, my throat seizing up. He aims it down, near my feet.
Green fills my world as I choke, my limbs too heavy to hold up any longer.
And then I’m falling toward the ground, air flooding into my lungs. I throw out my hands to catch myself and suck in the cool air, letting it slide down my pained throat. Shears falls a few feet next to me, clutching his leg in pain.
A stunner skids across the ground, and I glance up to see Rayce nod before swinging around to attack the last standing lackey.
We’re a team. He knows just what I need.
I reach into my shirt and pull out the vial Oren gave me right before we were captured. I down the Zarenite as a hand grips my hair and snatch the stunner off the ground. The handle reacts to my touch, the powder coming to life under my fingertips, and I pull the trigger. Shears falls back as the blast rockets through him, and I snatch my fallen sword from the ground.
“This Flower doesn’t die easily,” I say, glaring down at him. “She isn’t fragile. Not anymore.”
He looks up at me, his nose still pouring blood from my punch, but instead of fear, his mouth splits into a grin, crimson staining his white teeth.
“It’s a shame I won’t be able to watch you die,” he says. “But I’ll be seeing you real soon.”
I slam the weapon down into his neck. The blade slides through the exposed skin, cutting out a crooked smile, but struggles against his bone, so I pull it out and swing harder.
His head comes off in a blink, and warm blood splatters my face, into my mouth, his bitterness mixing with my own.
All I can think as I look down at his detached head is that I’ve wasted ten years of my life living in terror of this man, and it took less than ten seconds to end his life. Ten more seconds than he would have afforded me.
A hand on my shoulder rouses me from my thoughts, and I look up from Shears’s head into Rayce’s eyes. He touches my cheek, wiping off the smear of blood and sweat coating my face.
His gaze dances over me, finally settling on my neck. I put my hands up to cover the red mark appearing in the dawning sunlight, but he catches them with his own.
“You fought well,” he says, the hint of a smile playing at his lips. “We need to hurry in case anyone heard us.”
I nod for too long, my gaze drifting back to the man I just killed.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he says, using the crook of his finger to tip my chin back in his direction. Warmth radiates out of his dark eyes, and I feel myself relaxing as we stare at each other.
“What about you?” I ask, standing on my tiptoes to check the cut on his shoulder. Blood stains his green shirt, but it doesn’t look too deep.
“I’ll be fine,” he says, cupping my face in both his hands. “Not to worry.”
He bre
aks contact first, turning to stare at the sky. My stomach twists as the bottom of the sun crests the horizon. Day is almost upon us and with it, the emperor’s reinforcements.
“We have to rescue the others,” I say.
He nods, his mouth drawn into a serious line. “And quickly. I’m not sure if I have enough Zareeni forces here to hold if my uncle shows up with Sun soldiers.”
His words send an icy shard of dread into my heart. I move toward Shears’s body and pat around his shirt, sticking my hands in his pockets. I touch cold metal and wrap my fingers around the circle, yanking it from him. Gleaming in the morning light are thirteen keys that will grant my sisters their freedom.
I turn to run for the nearest cart, but Rayce grabs my palm. Securing my fingers in his, he nods and we take off together—a flower and a snake fleeing from the impeding daylight.
Chapter Thirty-Three
As the sun’s rays touch down on the abandoned village where the Garden has set up, my legs pump to keep up with Rayce. He keeps his fingers locked with mine, our kissing palms giving me an extra boost of strength. We leave behind the bodies we laid to waste, and they look surprisingly natural among the patches of dead grass and houses falling into themselves.
Jumping over a large rotting beam in the road, we scurry to Juniper’s cart.
I glance over my shoulder toward the entrance of town. In the morning light, the silhouette of a head peeking out from the roof of the nearest building catches my attention.
“Someone’s over there,” I say, pointing to the house.
As Rayce follows my finger, thirteen Zareeni uniforms crawl out of a large hole in the side of the building like butterflies from a cocoon and fly toward us.
We stop in front of the large door to Juniper’s wooden cage, and Rayce holds me stationary.
The guard in the front pulls ahead of the pack, and I catch a patch of short, light brown hair. Arlo’s face splits into a large grin, which is so unlike the last time I saw him—panic-stricken and being pulled through the hole in the dungeon while I was captured.
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