Garden of Thorns

by Amber Mitchell

  “Don’t!” he screams.

  I shove the tip of the blade lightly into the skin of his throat and watch as a thin line of blood trickles against his pale skin.

  A glint of ruby catches my eye—the necklace he took from me years ago. I lean down and, using the tip of my blade, fish the necklace out from underneath his shirt. The large gem sparkles the color of blood in the spotlight. I rip the chain from his neck and wrap my fingers around the surface of my mother’s necklace, the cool jewel a balm in my hot hands.

  I rise, ready to feel the sharp edge bite through the Gardener’s throat. All the years of abuse will end with this final swing.

  He throws up his chubby hands to push the blade away.

  “Wait, Rose!” Rayce shouts behind me. “Don’t kill him.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as his familiar voice drips down my back. I look over my shoulder and see Rayce reaching for me. His forehead crinkles in panic as he takes a cautious step toward me.

  Most of the other lackeys have been downed now, and many of the Zareeni guards and my sisters are watching us. I can almost hear the other Flowers’ thoughts, shouting at me to avenge their stolen years.

  “What?” I snap.

  “We need him alive,” Rayce says.

  I clench my teeth and tighten my grip on the sword’s handle. I have to keep the other girls safe, and the only way to ensure that the Garden doesn’t sprout again is to chop it off at its very roots. He needs to be clipped. A drop of sweat drips into my eye, blurring my vision.

  “He has to tell us where Oren is,” Rayce says, taking another step toward me.

  “Yes,” the Gardener shouts. “Of course I’ll tell you.”

  His voice ignites my fury, and I whirl around to face him, pushing my blade farther into his skin. He lets out a little moan and tries to press himself closer to the splintered wood of the pole behind him to escape the sharp bite of my hungry blade. Heat clings to my body, and I recognize the same intense buildup as the first time I ingested Zarenite.

  “We should just kill him and find Oren ourselves,” I say. “It’s the only way I can be sure nothing like this happens again.”

  My hand shakes slightly, but I steady it. I can’t give up this chance.

  “We don’t have time,” Rayce says, his voice wavering. “I won’t stop you if you feel you have to take revenge later, but right now, I need you to think this through. He’ll be more use to us alive. Think about Oren.”

  Fern’s dying screams well up inside my head.

  Following on the heels of her death shrieks is Oren’s rattled cough bouncing in the small space Fern and I used to share. I can still feel his shallow breathing underneath my cheek and the pit of emptiness I fell into the moment he was snatched away from me.

  We have to save him.

  Rayce’s fingertips brush my good shoulder, his sudden nearness accentuating his words. The heat of Zarenite courses through my veins, burning me from the inside. The other Zareeni and my sisters are gathering around us. Calla and Lily have their arms looped around Dahlia, while Marin works at patching her middle.

  Rayce is right. There is no one left to fight here. All that the Gardener ever had has been mowed down by the strength of our combined families. Now we have to save Oren.

  “Okay,” I whisper, closing my eyes against the revelation that I have to let him live a little longer. But that doesn’t mean his life can’t be filled with the pain he inflicted on us. I swing around, bringing the tip of my sword straight through his foot into the ground. He lets out a scream that pierces the quiet.

  I leave my sword stuck in his foot, all the anger and strength evaporating from my body as my fingers slip from the hilt.

  “Thank you,” Rayce whispers, tucking a sticky strand of hair behind my ears before walking up to the Gardener.

  He squats next to the trembling wreck of a man who used to be my master, sword extended at the Gardener’s bulbous belly.

  “Ready to talk to this rattie yet?” he asks, tilting his head to the left.

  The Gardener trembles under Rayce’s long shadow. “Of course. Yes, anything you ask.”

  “I’m going to be asking a lot of you, I’m afraid,” Rayce says, touching the tip of his blade to his finger. “And I’d better like your answers.”

  While Rayce speaks, Calla dances up to me and wraps her arms around my middle, resting her head on my good shoulder.

  “You came back for us,” she says.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long,” I say.

  “Don’t worry,” Juniper adds, following her. “We knew you would.”

  The other Flowers rush up, wrapping arms around arms, sharing in my trembling. We’re all strung tight like strings on a lyre, humming the notes of our sadness, our rage, our exhaustion, and our elation into the air.

  I just never imagined freedom tasting so bitter. How can I feel the warmth of my sisters again and yet, everywhere I turn, someone I love bleeds? Dahlia holds a hand over the cut in her belly, Violet has a deep cut over her forehead, and blood drips from Saffron’s mouth.

  “Yes,” the Gardener says, pulling my attention back to him. His eyeliner runs down his chubby cheeks in streaks like he’s crying tar.

  “I’m only going to say this once,” Rayce says, his words stilted. “Where did you hide Oren?”

  The Gardener opens his mouth like he’s going to answer, but a loud horn drowns out his voice from somewhere outside the tent. The blaring note skates over my body, sending goose bumps down my arms. All the remaining Zareeni guards glance at each other, the confusion on their faces mirroring my own.

  My attention turns back to the Gardener as the fear on his face drains, replaced by the same pointed smile I’ve seen a million times before during his performances. He sits up against the pole and laughs, the chilling sound shaking me to my core.

  “You’re already too late, rattie,” he says. “Do you think all of this was just for fun? I gathered everyone here to waste your time. I knew that Flower”—he looks at me and spits onto the ground—“wouldn’t be able to resist saving the other girls, and all I needed was to keep you here long enough for the emperor to arrive. If your friend isn’t already dead, he will be very shortly.”

  My breathing stops.

  Rayce moves in a blur, whipping out a stunner from his belt and shooting the Gardener point-blank in the stomach, stopping him midlaugh. I wish his aim were higher. A shot to the heart or head would have killed him instead of knocking him out. Chocolate spittle drips out of the Gardener’s mouth as his body goes slack against the pole, and he begins to slide back toward the earth.

  “You four,” Rayce says, pointing to the four nearest Zareeni guards, “bring the women we found back to camp. Don’t stop until you get there, under any circumstance, am I clear?”

  They nod their understanding as the zap-zap of stunner bolts outside the tent sounds in the cavernous space.

  “Shing and Che you two stand guard over the prisoner,” Rayce says, motioning to Marin and a short-haired man. “If he wakes up, blast him again.”

  Marin grabs her stunner, glaring at the unconscious Gardener. “With pleasure.”

  A stray arrow rips through the far side of the tent, rocketing over our heads. The sounds of metal clanging together mix with a woman screaming.

  Rayce turns to me. “Help the others get your friends to safety.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m staying with you.”

  He grimaces, turning back to the remaining unassigned guards. “The rest of you, you know what to do.”

  They salute and race out of the tent toward the sounds of war.

  Rayce grabs me gently by the arm and pulls me away from the small crowd. His eyes flick over as the guards empty out of the tent, but he shakes his head and focuses on me. A lock of his dark hair covers the top of his scar, and his earthy eyes radiate an intensity I haven’t seen from him before.

  His blood-soaked hand on my arm trembles slightly.r />
  He whispers so only I can hear him. “Please go with your sisters,” he says, his voice catching. “If my uncle is really out there, I’m not sure…” He takes a breath. “I’ve never been able to best him in a fight, and with the meager amount of people I was able to gather for this mission, I don’t think we can beat him.”

  My heart sinks as his words sting me. I reach up, clutching his hand. He was nervous the night before our last mission, but right now, he remains completely sober.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?” he asks, his eyes desperate. “If you stay, I’m not sure you’ll survive to see through your goal, and I want that for you, Rose.” His voice catches. “Even if I can’t, I want you to live.”

  A few weeks ago, I would have sprung for the chance to stay with my sisters and live. All I dared to dream about was freedom for everyone in the Garden. But then Rayce burst into my life, assaulting my senses, tearing down my walls, filling me with light and awakening a piece of me that I never knew dwelled inside. What I want is to be with him, even if it’s only for these last few minutes. As much as I know I should, I can’t abandon him any more than I can quit breathing. He sent me away last time, but I will remain with him until the end. Now. Always.

  “I’m staying by your side,” I whisper. “And we are both going to live.”

  He rests his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. He winces, sadness at my willingness to die passing over his face, followed by a calm that comes from knowing I’ll see this battle through with him until the end.

  “Okay then,” he says. “Let’s go save Oren.”

  He shouts for the rest of the guards to move, and we run for the far end of the tent, jumping over bodies littering the floor. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the price of war screams as I trip over a dead man’s hand, but I keep moving, trying not to think about what all this killing will cost my soul.

  Rayce swings his sword, ripping a slit through the blue fabric of the tent so we can wiggle outside. As we bust through the tight space, it feels like we’re stepping through a curtain to observe a reenactment of a famous war.

  The sun hangs much higher overhead than we left it, burning the sky yellow and orange. The heat hits me instantly, followed by the earthy scent of dirt mixing with the iron tinge of blood. About seventy Sun soldiers twist and turn in the throes of battle, their scalelike plated armor gleaming in the morning sunlight like fish in a stream. Four blue and silver flags emblazoned with the Delmarion dragon crest snap furiously with the wind on the south side of the town like they’re cheering on the violence ensuing below them.

  Green light fights against the sea of blue flooding the crumbling town, Zareeni guards shooting and swinging and blasting for their lives. Though each face I find grits in determination, it’s easy to gauge the numbers—and they aren’t in our favor.

  “Stay close to me,” Rayce shouts.

  He jabs the sharp edge of his sword through a nearby Sun soldier, hitting him in the sliver of unprotected space between his chest and helmet. Red blood spurts out of the wound.

  My attention flickers across the wreckage until I find the thing that kept me up last night.

  The wooden stage still stands in the middle of the small clearing. A group of Sun soldiers surrounds the platform, swords drawn.

  Above their heads, a figure looms over the carnage like the god of war. The emperor’s cold stare sweeps over the battlefield as his hand rests on the decorated hilt of a large sword. His armor is crafted almost entirely out of silver, each plate rounded at the end to make perfect half-circle scales. They catch the light, shrouding his figure in a hazy glow that makes it hard to stare directly at him. Like the sun personified. Intricate swirling dragons adorn the middle chest piece, the two flaps of armor covering his shoulders and his bracers. His gleaming helmet wraps around his head, and two horrible mandibles conform to the sides of his face, covering most of his beard.

  His free hand grips the back of Oren’s robe, who’s slumped near the emperor’s feet.

  My stomach drops, and I stumble toward them. A blade swings for my head, but Rayce jumps in front of me, parrying the attack.

  “What are you doing?” he yells. “Stay focused.”

  His worry snaps me back to my right mind.

  “Oren’s over there!” I shout, pointing toward the stage.

  Rayce follows my gaze, his eyes widening at the sight of his mentor held captive by his uncle. The muscles in Rayce’s jaw clench, and a fire ignites in his eyes. “Let’s go!”

  We sprint forward, Rayce running a little ahead of me. He swings his sword at every man in his path, cutting his way through the struggling bodies blocking him from the stage. Aiming the best I can, I shoot at anything silver, praying my shots aren’t wasted.

  The farther we move, the thicker the fighting becomes. I catch Arlo as he shoves his stunner into a soldier’s face and pulls the trigger before ducking to avoid an arrow.

  A Zareeni woman next to me crumples to the ground, life slipping out of her eyes as I jump over her. I don’t know her name, but I will learn them all when I go back, and I will follow Rayce as he meets with every single rebel’s family.

  Rayce moves even faster.

  “Don’t you dare, Uncle!” he screams over the sounds of men dying.

  The emperor’s gaze snaps toward Rayce’s command, and he points at us with the tip of his sword.

  The four Sun soldiers guarding the stage rush for us, surrounding Rayce. He shoots the first one and spins, guarding against an oncoming sword attack.

  “Go!” he yells at me, spit flying from his exertion. “Save him!”

  I shoot for one of the soldier’s backs and turn away before I see if my bolt landed. My heart hammering in my chest, I dodge around a Zareeni guard pummeling into another soldier, heading straight for the platform.

  The emperor’s gaze turns to me, and even through his helmet, I can see his mouth tick up in a smile. He drops his hold on Oren’s robe, letting him slam against the platform as I run for them.

  Another horn blast echoes through the town, and the emperor raises his sword. I’m close enough now to see the crusted blood coating Oren’s face, his long eyelashes touching his cheeks.

  I’m razor focused on saving him. I will not let Oren down.

  Even though I’m not a marksman, I pull out my stunner and aim at the emperor’s hand like I saw Arlo do with the Gardener. I take a deep breath, letting Arlo’s teachings flow through me, and my finger finds the trigger.

  A whimpering man reaches up from the dirt, grabbing my leg with a blood-soaked hand.

  The ground comes for me hard, the stunner tumbling out of my hands. My nose cracks on impact, and I taste blood. It’s broken, but that doesn’t matter now.

  I snap up and kick the man’s arm off my leg, crawling for the stage.

  Just a few more feet. Oren’s eyes snap open, processing everything. His gaze locks onto my face, his pupils as deep and solidly brown as the earth I’m crawling on, and the tips of his mouth crook up. Like the bright blue sky has come down already and whisked him up into the clouds.

  I reach out to him, my hand a trembling plea to stay with me, and the emperor’s sword falls. The sound of metal hitting sinew and muscle and veins and bone fills the air even as his words fill my head.

  “You are going to do great things, Rose, if you let yourself.”

  The way he ducked as he walked through the halls of Zareen without a single complaint, the smell of parchment and smoke always trailing behind him, the feeling of his bear claw-size hand ruffling my head before each battle swirls in my head as Oren fades.

  My body gives out underneath me, tears clouding my vision.

  “What’s your name, girl?” Oren asked me the first time we met.

  “Rose.”

  “After the rare Varshan desert rose,” he mumbled to himself. “It’ll do just fine.”

  Does he approve of my real name? Does he like it? I never got to hear the way it sounds co
ming from his mouth. And now, I never will.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  A soul-shattering roar rings out behind me, guttural, primal, deadly.

  Rayce appears in my peripheral vision, his long, tattered black vest flowing out behind him, the scarred side of his face caked in blood. His knuckles are white, straining against the crippling grip on his sword.

  His mood darkens the sky.

  Maybe it’s all the blood gushing from Oren’s severed head, or the fact that I couldn’t save him, that sends a wave of crippling anger searing through my veins. The sight of his headless body lying still on the platform mends my fractures and heals all the scrapes and bruises covering my body.

  The moment Oren’s soul left this world, pain and reasoning and logic left me. Even the complete devastation of watching him slaughtered like an animal evaporates in the fiery rage that rushes to my head. The only thing that matters now is making the emperor hurt the way Oren hurt, the way I’ve hurt for years.

  Oren’s words suddenly make perfect sense. I will play a part in the war, just not in the way he thought. All the things I’ve accomplished since leaving here were pieces building me new. I am not the same submissive little Flower. I will make them suffer.

  I jump up, wiping the blood and snot from my nose.

  My gaze narrows to the man in silver, the man whose sword is coated with Oren’s blood.

  I will kill the emperor.

  Rayce clearly has the same thought, because we charge at the same time, my feet pumping to keep up with his.

  The emperor jumps off the platform to meet us, carefully wiping his blade clean with his light blue cape. The battle rages on either side of him, but he seems wholly unconcerned. A Zareeni guard runs for him, but he cuts him down without even looking. The swift way his blade moves as if it’s one with his arm, striking fear like an arrow through my heart.

  Rayce confessed he’s never beaten his uncle in a sword fight. My feet slow, and for a moment a familiar sense of worry returns. But Rayce rushes his uncle with no thought for his own life, the fury of Oren’s death fueling him. Will he be able to finally beat his uncle? Because I will not watch another person I love die.