Arlo runs straight for me, his arms extended, and nearly knocks me off my feet in an embrace.
I stiffen in his arms but don’t pull away. He isn’t an enemy just because he’s a man. He’s been just as much a friend to me as Fern or Marin.
“I can’t even tell you how happy I am to see you safe,” Arlo says. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for not being able to help you in the imperial dungeon.”
The sincerity in his voice reaches my heart, and I return his hug for a moment.
“It’s okay,” I say.
He kisses the top of my head and pulls away from me, straightening his vest. The glee on his face drains as he turns to Rayce. “Word came in that your uncle’s forces aren’t far away.”
“Then we need to hurry,” Rayce says. “The rest of you, split up in pairs and start breaking into the carts. If you get in, escort the girls you find to the edge of town and stay with them, no matter what. Arlo, I need you to find Oren.”
Arlo and the others nod, spreading out on Rayce’s words.
I pull out the set of keys I pilfered from Shears and start working through them on Juniper’s lock. Every time a key doesn’t fit, I hear Arlo’s warning about the emperor drawing near in my head. My hands tremble as I flip through another key.
“We’re going to get through this,” Rayce says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
The sound of the lock clicking open is almost more relieving than hearing my own cage open earlier. Rayce swings open the door, not even bothering for stealth anymore, and we peer into the yawning darkness.
“Juniper?” I call out, my voice sounding small.
No answer.
My bones turn to lead as I move to step into the cage and I remind myself that Rayce holds the door open. He won’t close it on me. I wade through the dirty straw of her cage, willing my eyes to adjust quicker but all I’m met with is empty space.
“No one’s here,” I say, jumping out of the cart.
“Is that normal?” Rayce asks.
I shake my head.
“Let’s check the next one,” Rayce says.
We run hand in hand to the next cart, calling out Violet’s name.
Nothing.
Rayce’s brow furrows, and he looks at the other guards on the opposite side of us. Following his gaze, I see a Zareeni woman shrugging to the other guard holding open the door to Lily’s cart.
We both look at each other, and the same thought passes through our gazes: something is horribly wrong.
I turn back to my cart, the heads of the four Wilteds still shoved on pikes sticking out from the roof. Their dead eyes stare down at me, guilt swelling in my chest. I can almost hear their voices screaming to save my sisters, save who is left.
What’s the Gardener up to?
We run past the next two carts, where another two pairs of Zareeni guards are working on locks, and head for the last cart on the row. Behind the crumbling house at our back, the silky blue tent of the Garden looms overhead. The rising sun casts the shadow of the huge monstrosity over us, bathing us in a false darkness like everything to do with the Garden.
We reach Daisy’s cage, and I yell out to her, already knowing we won’t find them.
Rayce holds his hand out to help me down, and as my feet thud against the dead grass, my knees nearly give out. I look up at the five points on top of the tent, a large beam shooting up the middle. The fabric falls off the largest tip like the blue water of the sea, hiding the dangers that lurk below it.
My mind recoils at the thought of stepping inside that tent one more time. Everything about that vile place reminds me of the last ten years of my life. Besides Fern, it was the one constant in my life. My feet turn to stone at the thought of moving any closer. I know in my bones that is where my sisters are being held.
The Gardener’s final cruel joke.
I tighten my grip on my sword and turn to Rayce. “The girls are inside the tent.”
“It seems likely,” Rayce says. “You know it’s a trap, though, right?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“Can you do it?” he asks, his eyes flickering over my face.
Clenching my jaw, I slip my good hand in his, stealing some of his strength. He locks his fingers with mine, and our palms fit together like they were crafted with the same mold, though his are two times bigger than mine.
“I have to,” I say.
“I’ll follow your lead, then,” he says, turning around to signal to a Zareeni man at Calla’s cart.
The man nods his understanding and takes off running.
Rayce and I duck around the one-story house in front of the tent, the dirty white side of the long-abandoned building providing very little cover as we run past it. The wooden shutters are thrown back, and I peer inside as we move. Weeds poke through the wood lining the floor, and a table is thrown on its side. The remnants of a clay pot litter the floor, the shattered surfaces reflecting the rising sun.
I lead Rayce around the house, peeking out from the corner of the building for any sign of movement. A small patch of trampled grass leads up to the looming beast of a tent. The large flaps to the Garden are pulled back with golden ties, but the inside remains dark.
“We could try to sneak around the back,” Rayce whispers in my ear. “But he’s likely expecting something or he wouldn’t have taken the others inside the tent. Time is of the essence, so I think we should just go through the front.”
“I don’t like this,” I say, trying to articulate the panic flooding my system.
“Whatever happens, I’m with you.”
Though his words bring a tiny smile to my lips, a tinge of guilt settles over me. I was going to leave him, not willing to even try to trust him, and here he is, willing to risk his life to help me. I will tell him who I am as soon as we rescue the other Flowers and Oren, when all this horror is behind us and we can move forward together. I can give him the same trust he’s willing to give me.
The seven guards from before lean in, and Rayce updates them on our newest mission. They each pull out a stunner, positioning around us.
I touch the base of my own stunner, feeling heat slip into my cheeks.
We move across the open grass between the small house and the tent on heavy feet. Every step takes great effort, and my heart hammers against my rib cage. A bead of sweat drips down my forehead, and I swipe it away.
The opening of the Garden looms ahead of us, resembling the entrance to a cave filled with angry bears.
The sunlight fades as we step past the heavy curtains. White glass beads dangle in the entrance, swishing to give away our position as we push through them. The air inside the tent tastes stale and is infused with a musky, floral scent of burning incense and the smoke of torches.
Three beams of limelight shoot down from the top of the tent like the beginning of my routine, all shining on the Gardener, who lounges on a specially made metal chair with a young Seedling on each side of him. A little blond Varshan girl, likely plucked as my replacement, struggles to wave a large plum fan to cool his plump form. I wonder where he was able to steal her. Was he given access to new girls, thanks to his deal with the emperor?
The other girl clasps a golden bowl spilling over with chocolates. A smear of melted chocolate already crusts the Gardener’s chin, and his kohl-lined eyes are trained on us as we walk in.
Behind him stands a flock of at least forty lackeys all armed with swords and knives—one even clutches a wooden hammer. They don’t move for us as we hold up our stunners. A muscle-bound lackey in the front flips his sword back and forth, his one good eye never leaving us.
And in the very back, tucked behind the Gardener and the men who torment them, are my sisters, huddled together. Calla and Lily sit in front, clinging to each other, but instead of shivering they remain upright. When our eyes meet, the intensity of their fury gives my feet courage.
“That’s far enough,” the Gardener says, tossing up his chocolate-smeared hand. “Come
any closer and one of them dies.”
The myriad of rings clinging to every available space on his fingers twinkles in the lights.
Rayce puts a hand down, signaling the small troop walking in our footsteps to stop. The odds don’t look very promising—almost four to one, even with the stunners.
“Why don’t you let them go?” Rayce asks. “If you do, I can guarantee—”
“I don’t bargain with ratties,” the Gardener cuts in.
Rayce’s hand falls to the hilt of his bloodied sword. The seconds tick out long in the all-encompassing silence, and I worry he might attack, risking my sisters’ lives in the process. But finally, he nods.
The Gardener’s beady eyes slide to my face. “You’ve put us all in quite a position, my leetle Rose,” the Gardener says. “Unfortunately, we can’t both get what we want. But even you aren’t stupid enough not to realize your ratties are outnumbered. If you bow to me now and plead for their lives, I might be persuaded to let them go.”
Part of me knows he won’t keep his word, and yet, my legs long to fall to the ground, my head already moving toward it. I glance at Rayce, his jaw clenched tight, like whatever he wants to say is burning him from the inside out. The knuckles around his stunner have turned white, and his hand shakes, ready to spill more blood.
If I bowed, maybe he could make a run for it. He could live. The girls would be spared.
The glow of Zarenite beaming through my fingers sends a surge of adrenaline through me.
No, I didn’t want to trust Rayce back at camp, and that’s what got us into this situation. I have to trust him now, as Oren told me. As Rayce has been telling me from the beginning. I have to have faith that we’ll get through this, together. The warmth of his touch pulses in my skin.
I shoot my head back up and stare directly into the Gardener’s empty eyes—a forbidden gesture.
I will never look away again.
“Odds didn’t stop me and Rayce from killing Shears a few minutes ago,” I say. “And they won’t stop us from killing you, either.”
The giant lackey at the lead takes a step forward, dragging the tip of his blade across the ground. The sound cuts through me.
The Gardener puts both hands on the sides of his chair and tries to lift himself out of it. He gets stuck about halfway and has to slide back down. With chocolate and spit still coating his fingers, he flicks them up to stop the approaching lackey.
“I’ll give you one more chance,” he says, sliding out one of his feet. “Bow down and kiss my shoe, or everyone here will suffer the consequences.”
A ripple in the back curtain of the tent catches my eye. From my vantage point, I can just catch a halo of tight curls duck into the tent behind the Gardener and his lackeys. Marin! She stands on her tiptoes and waves, signaling for us to stay quiet.
“Well? We haven’t got all day,” the Gardener says. “The emperor will be joining us any minute.”
Marin holds up the curtain, and about seventeen other Zareeni guards flood into the tent, not making a sound. Everyone’s gaze holds on me and the Gardener. Fine—if he wants one final performance, I’ll give it to him.
“If I do this,” I say, bowing my head, “you have to promise to release the man you picked up with me and hand him back over to the Zareeni rebellion.”
“You don’t get to make demands,” the Gardener says.
I relax my fingers, the stunner grip slipping from my grasp. The booming sound it makes hitting the hard-packed earth echoes in the cavernous space. I take a step forward.
Rayce catches my arm, and I turn to face him.
“Don’t do this,” he says, his voice strained. I tilt my head at him, and he gives me a subtle wink. “I won’t let you.”
“I have to,” I say, following his lead. I yank my arm from him, his grip loosening as he plays along with me.
With every step I take toward the Gardner, my world shrinks down to the point of a knife. There is only me and the former master who haunted my every waking thought for ten years. A smile slides onto his face, his yellow teeth coated with chocolate. Even though I know Rayce watches my back, my heart still flip-flops in my chest with every movement I make.
Someone sneezes in the back—likely from the nauseating scent of incense—and the largest lackey’s head snaps around.
“There’s more of them!” he shouts, breaking up our fake display.
The Gardener’s face twists into a snarl, and he points a shaky finger at me.
“Get her!” he yells, spittle flying through the air.
“Calla, Lily, everyone, fight now!” I shout out to my sisters. “Save yourselves!”
The tidy line between rebel and lackey shatters at our screaming. The thunderous sound of swords unsheathing fills the air. Half the lackeys turn toward Marin’s group. Marin tosses her sword to Calla and shoots a nearby lackey in the same swift movement, filling the space with bright green light. Her jaw is set, determined. She won’t be bested by the Gardener and his thugs again.
My sisters burst into action. Calla swings her sword for a younger lackey’s neck while Lily jumps on his back.
Two men take this chance to charge me. I unsheathe the sword at my hip and dispatch the first one with a swift swing to the gut. The other takes advantage of my momentum and nicks my shoulder with a knife. I spin around, letting the knife dig deeper into my shoulder and turn my blade toward him, but he falls to the ground before I can swing, twitching from a stunner blast to the back.
Rayce appears in front of me, a grin on his face, and throws me the stunner I’d dropped on the ground before he rushes for his next target.
Above his head, I see a lackey running for him, and I raise my stunner. Rayce doesn’t flinch at the barrel of my weapon pointing his way, not even when my finger pulls the trigger.
In the haze of battle, I’ve lost my real target. My eyes pick through the sea of men struggling, metal clinging with metal, and bright blossoms of red sprouting everywhere, until I find him.
He scrambles to pull himself out of his chair. I grit my teeth. Five lackeys have surrounded him, but they won’t be nearly enough with the rage welling inside me.
I lunge for him, the sounds of my sisters fighting for their freedom all around me. Some part of me feels the blood pouring from my shoulder. But that part is very far away.
I shoot at a man charging for Juniper but can’t react quickly enough to stop a blade from running through Dahlia’s middle.
The two lackeys on the Gardener’s right run for me. My stunner takes care of the first, but the other swings for me. Rayce parries his blade, kicking him away from me. Another lackey aims for Rayce, but I don’t stick around to make sure he’s okay. I’ve seen him in action and know he can take care of himself.
A few Zareeni guards attack the lackeys on the Gardener’s left, leaving him completely unprotected, and I refuse to let the chance slip through my fingers. I walk up to the man who robbed me of everything with the practiced grace he beat into me.
The Gardener stumbles back, but the large wooden pole holding up the middle of the tent blocks his exit. His collision causes a white ribbon to drop from the top of the tent. If this were a normal night, that same piece of fabric would catch me as I fell, but today I push it aside with the tip of my sword blade.
Another scrawny lackey with straggly black hair tries to rush me, but I see his hand coming in my peripheral vision and duck, cutting out a piece of his side on my way down. The man grabs at his ribs and falls to the ground.
I point my sword at the Gardener’s gut, the heady mixture of three different people’s blood dripping onto his ivory silk shirt, and aim the stunner at his face.
The Gardener’s beady eyes bulge as he picks through the crowd for someone to stop me.
“What are you trash doing?” he yells to his lackeys, losing his accent in his panic.
But he’s yelling mostly to their bodies. A sea of fallen men lies at my feet, the Zareeni guards much better at fighting than the m
en who were only good at fighting when their prey couldn’t fight back.
The Flowers, Wilteds, and Seedlings gather around me, our bond forged in blood, fear, and tears.
I have all the power.
My fingers tighten around the hilt of the stunner.
The Gardener reaches for two little knives strapped to his side, but as he tries to yank them free around his large belly, he trips himself, falling back into the pole and landing hard on the ground. He looks like an oversize baby as he rocks back and forth, trying to get to his feet.
“You bastard,” I say, taking slow steps toward the man who has ruined a thousand lives. My voice sounds like it comes from everywhere at once, backed by a million souls he’s silenced before me. “You took us away from our homes, from our lives, stole our futures, and ripped us from the people who loved us.”
The buttery leather of the sword hilt feels like it’s burning up in my hand, the anticipation of his blood running like a fever through me. “And now it’s time to pay.”
As I walk toward the Gardener, I realize these are the moments I will come back to: barefoot, broken, slight limp on the left side, and more powerful than I’ll ever be again. It’s this moment and these steps that define me.
“You can’t!” the Gardener yells over and over again, finally forced to look up at me.
And all I can think as I stop at his feet is that I can. For once in my life, I can.
For my sisters behind me.
For Fern underneath me.
For the blade he held against Marin’s neck.
With the Gardener’s death, my struggle will finally be over. I will be able close my eyes without fearing his face, and when I lay my head down on the soft pillow in the Zareeni base, I will finally be able to rest.
Chapter Thirty-Four
A slow smile spreads across my face as the Gardener trembles before me. The bright spotlight beams down hot on my face as if giving me permission to finally end this dance we’ve been performing for almost ten years.
“It’s over,” I say. “And there is nothing you can say to change that.”
I raise the sword, watch its shadow cross the Gardener’s body and the unbridled fear erasing every cruel wrinkle on his face. The fact that he can’t defend himself should slow my hand, but somehow it just makes me feel stronger.
Garden of Thorns Page 29
