“I know,” he whispers into the side of my face. “There isn’t any other way to end this war, but it doesn’t make it any less difficult. Whatever he’s done, he’s still my family, my own flesh and blood, and I know there’s a small part of him that’s still good. I—” His voice catches and he grimaces. Clearly whatever he’s trying to say takes everything out of him. “I don’t want to kill him unless there is absolutely no other way around it.”
His stories make it easier to understand his reluctance to kill his uncle and harder for me to hate him so cleanly. Doubt isn’t something we can afford right now. Neither is compassion for the only man who could ruin everything we’ve been working for. These are things that will cause mistakes, things that will kill. But I don’t have it in me to fight with him, especially with my own guilt threatening to drown me. I’m already going against his orders; I won’t destroy the sliver of hope he still holds in his heart, pure like a child.
“If that’s what you believe, then how can I argue with you?”
Even though I won’t ever agree with him and I can’t see a way around killing the emperor, his optimism is one of the things that drew me to him in the first place.
“It’s late,” he says, fighting to keep the tightness out of his voice. He presses a kiss to my forehead and moves to the side, grabbing the dough we’d abandoned. “Perhaps you should let me finish up? We leave for Huidezen first thing tomorrow. Tell Marin, if you would.”
I keep my eyes closed, trying to trap the gentle feeling of his lips brushing against my forehead even though it’s already fading. The chilly base air sends goose bumps down my skin now that Rayce’s warmth isn’t there to combat it, and I’m left feeling empty. Hollow.
Did I say something wrong?
Peeking open my eyes, I catch sight of Rayce’s face drawn in the same serious line I’ve grown so accustomed to as his hands work without thought to cut the dough in small circles. He doesn’t even glance my way, clearly lost in whatever thought forces him to rip into the honey crisp batter as if it personally offended him.
“I’ll let her know, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
He responds with a grunt of acknowledgement. The things I want to say stay locked inside, the only key I’ve ever known growing further away with each step I take toward the door. My legs are shaky as I stop near the entrance and turn around, hoping to meet his gaze. I used to hate all eyes on me and now it’s like I can’t breathe sometimes when I don’t feel him.
He has a tray in his hand, heading for the small oven I’d lit a while ago.
Come on, Rayce. Turn around.
As if he can hear my thoughts calling out to him, he looks over his shoulder, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. The tension in my stomach loosens as I return his smile and head out the door until I process what I need to tell Marin.
Tomorrow morning, we head for the town the Gardener told us about. Perhaps even into a trap. All of the relief I felt vanishes, fickle like the sunlight, fading at the first hint of a storm.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning comes faster than I’d like, and with it that same dread that kept me up for most of the night. Between replaying in my head the sweet moments stolen with Rayce in the kitchen and the conversation with the Gardener, it’s a wonder I found sleep at all. The more I thought back to what the Gardener told us without anger clouding my judgement, the more fear grew like a weed in my chest. He gave in too easily. Something isn’t right about all this.
Marin mentions we should be going soon, and we begin to get ready. I pull off the wrinkled robe I slept in and hastily jump into my uniform. The crisp brown pants still feel strange separating my legs, but freeing at the same time, and the green robe, cut short in the front right above my hips and flowing out long in the back, feels like a second skin. The bumpy embroidered golden sun sits just over my heart, a sign that I will live or die by the rebellion. I roll the long sleeves up just below my elbow, a few dormant vines of Zarenite from my tattoo snaking out from underneath. Kneeling by the bed, I check my pack and peek over my shoulder at Marin.
When she turns around, I stick my hand under my pillow and I pull out the bottle of desert rose poison, contemplating where to stow it while we’re gone. The Gardener’s nightly meals will have to wait, but I don’t want it to be found.
“Are you ready to head out?” Marin asks.
Her steadily approaching footfalls shoot spiky fear down my back, and I shove the bottle into my pack before pulling up the drawstrings tightly.
Rising to my feet, I shoulder my bag and nod at her. “Yes, let’s go.”
We hurry through the tunnels, my anxiety rising with every step, and meet our small platoon of thirty guards near one of the entrances of the base. These are the men and women that could get hurt if the Gardener is leading us into a trap. If the person with the lotus brooch ends up being someone who is in league with the emperor, there isn’t much we can do. We spot Calla and Lily and head over to them. Clover stands silently a few feet apart from us.
The sound of hurried boots announces Rayce’s entrance. Arlo walks beside him, whispering something. They both pass by and Rayce gives me a small, tight smile, nerves showing in his wrinkled vest and the heavy dark marks under his eyes. They stop close enough to our little group that I can catch what they’re discussing and stare at the wall, pretending I’m not listening.
“I had the physician check up on him because of that cough,” Rayce says.
Why would they be discussing the Gardener right now?
Moving closer to Marin, I pretend to pick something off her shoulder.
“And? What did they conclude?” Arlo asks.
“The cough isn’t natural. He might have picked up it up from the cold, but they felt like it was from a foreign cause. Like poison, potentially. None of the poison you own is missing from your collection, is it?”
My heart practically rips from my chest, listening to Rayce. The skin on the back of my arm prickles at the word and I sneak a glance over my shoulder. Rayce looks intently at Arlo, but Arlo’s face remains smooth, as if they were talking about the weather.
“Not that I know of, but I’ll double check when we get back. Have you tightened patrols and checked to see if he had any unauthorized visitors?”
“Of course.”
Panic floods my senses, making me feel small and out of control. I walk over to them quickly, hoping to lessen some of the dread clinging to me like a wet blanket, but the closer I get to Rayce, the more my stomach starts to roll. My mouth goes dry as both of their gazes flicker toward me. Arlo’s eyes hold a warning, questioning why I would decide to approach now, and I have to admit that I’m wondering the same thing. While I turn to Rayce, the moment he smiled at me last night before I left flashes before me.
“Did the honey crisps come out all right? I’m sorry to have left before they were finished.”
Rayce pulls out a small pack from his pocket and opens the drawstring, the sweet smell of honey tempting my nostrils. He pulls out a golden cookie and pops it into his mouth, holding out the little brown bag to me. “Your half of last night’s haul. Minus one for a delivery fee, of couse.”
Even with worry threatening to topple me to the floor, I can’t fight the calmness that washes over me at the familiar sight and smell. This is the Rayce I’ve been longing to see, one who tastes like honey and always has a snack ready in his pocket. I accept the bag from him.
“Thank you,” I say, grabbing a treat of my own and savoring the burst of honey on my tongue.
“Also, I believe you’ll need these back.” He pulls loose my sword and stunner from his belt, handing me those as well.
The weight of them is almost more comforting than the honey crisps.
“You’ll need some way to protect yourself on this mission. If something goes wrong, I don’t want you to be unarmed.”
With their leader now present, the nearest guard opens the tunnel, letting us out into the world aboveground.
Even in the Garden, I craved the moment when the lackeys would open our cages, releasing us into the sunlight. The same feeling overwhelms me as I climb up a wooden ladder into a field of tall grass.
Bursts of yellow and red flowers dot alongside the well-worn path we traverse, the give of the hard earth welcome after walking on stone for the past week. The road cuts through the thick forest that edges right up to the base of the mountain range the Delmarions refer to as the Yinshan, the same mountains that keep me from feeling the sun on my face far more often than I’d like.
A strong, warm breeze blows through the canopy of trees high above my head, bringing with it the echoing call of wild birds, the constant rustle of leaves like the thrumming heartbeat of the woods. On days like this one, when sunlight streams through the thick, greedy treetops to cast patterns on the ground, it almost has a sound like a soft buzzing.
We walk under the shade and comfort of the forest for several hours, heading toward Dongsu to stop for the night. From there, we will be stuck in campsites since there are no other friendly towns on the way to Huidezen. Though there is some chatter around us from the other guards, most of them remain focused on the task that lies ahead. I, on the other hand, can’t seem to focus on anything besides the kiss Rayce and I shared last night. The ghost of his lips pressing against mine is enough to drive me mad. It makes the sunlight on my face even warmer than it should be, and I pull my uniform shirt away from my back to keep it from sticking uncomfortably. To keep my mind off the memory, I look around at the faces of the small group we travel with.
But of course, the first person my gaze falls on is Rayce walking ahead of us. He steps through a beam of light a little ways up ahead, leaning in to listen to something Arlo says to him. For a second, my gut twists and my pack becomes heavier than the ancient oak tree whose roots peek out of the ground.
“Care to tell us exactly what we’re doing here?” Calla asks.
I blink against the harsh sunlight, turning away from Rayce’s profile before I’m caught staring.
“Did no one speak with you?” I ask.
“Only a little,” Lily says. “That we were heading to some town.”
The explanation is on the tip of my tongue, but I stop myself, my gaze shifting to Calla. The last time we spoke about the Gardener, she made her feelings very clear about anything to do with the Gardener. At the time, I’d sided with her, but now her words about never being able to respect me again hit like a punch in the gut.
But I will not lie to my sisters from the Garden. We might not be related by blood, but our loyalty is bound by a deeper thread. They deserve to know the truth, even if I can’t give them the full extent of it.
“We’re heading to Huidezen,” I say. “It’s a small town to the north of Imperial City where the Gardener says the rebellion can acquire more men, if what he said has any truth to it.”
Marin moves closer beside me, lending me support. The smell of apples washes over me as she tosses her hair back over her shoulder. Lily turns to her sister, cautioning her with a look.
Calla’s voice has a bite to it. “So you’re serving him again? What was all that talk about not giving in last time?”
“I’m sure she has her reasons,” Lily says, trying to calm her sister.
“Of course she does.” Calla narrows her eyes at me. “And they all come back to the shogun. Perhaps we should go pledge ourselves to him, too, since we seem to be taking orders from him whether we want to or not. I promised to stand by you, Rose. I thought you were someone who could lead us.”
Her venomous words soak into my skin, shooting past muscle and bone to rot my core. The day I rescued them from the Garden, they would have followed me anywhere. How could I have lost that only a few months later?
We all survived together. I fought tooth and nail to free them, risking myself and willing to forgo a certain future to make sure we all escaped. But I never asked them to follow me. I’m certainly not fit to lead anyone, and if leading means all the sacrifices Rayce is constantly making, someone else can have it.
My disastorous visit to the Gardener the first time is a prime example of why I can’t be the person they want me to be.
“First, I’ll remind you that I never wanted any of this.” My voice shakes with frustration that I can’t quite snuff out even as I ball my hands into fists. “I never asked you to pledge anything to me, and secondly, if you trust me like you say you do, then have a little faith. Though it doesn’t seem like it, I do have a plan. I’m taking care of the Gardener.”
Even if Rayce won’t…
Calla glares down at the ground but won’t make eye contact with me.
“I’m not sure how we can trust you,” Calla says, causing Lily’s shoulders to slump. “I’m not even sure whose side you’re on anymore. Are you one of us or one of them?” She nods toward Rayce’s back.
Lily grabs her sister’s hand. “There isn’t a separation anymore. We are all working toward the same goal.”
“No,” Calla says. “The rebellion is working toward a future I agree with, but they aren’t going to make sure that we are cared for. We might be fighting for the same side, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t separate. No matter what happens, they will never understand us the way we can understand each other.”
The sunlight beats down on my face now, licking its burning tongue across my skin and causing beads of sweat to form behind my neck.
“I will always be one of you,” I whisper. “But as Lily said, we’re also part of the rebellion now. I don’t understand why there has to be a difference, but for what it’s worth, I haven’t forgotten where I came from.”
“You could have fooled me.” Calla packs her final punch, and pushes ahead of us.
Lily frowns at me, opening her mouth to say something, but clearly thinks better of it and jogs to catch up with her sister, thwacking her on the shoulder.
As always, Clover stays quiet.
I rub my hand over my face, trying to wipe away her words before they can settle in. Is this what they’ll all think when this war is over and my secret past is revealed? That I’ve never been one of them at all? The thought is like a dagger to the gut.
“She’ll come around.” Marin knocks playfully into my shoulder. “And if she doesn’t on her own then I’ll make her. But try not to worry about it too much, all right?”
I give her a grateful smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “I’d pity her if she doesn’t, then.”
The road ahead slants upward, a sign we’re nearing Dongsu. No matter how much time or distance I place between myself and this hill, I will never be able to forget it. The last time I marched up it, we were scrambling to get into the town in time to save Marin. Without even thinking, I move closer to her.
Ahead of us, the small platoon has come to a halt, all gathered at the crest of the hill, probably awaiting Rayce’s orders. Several of the men and women at the top whisper to each other, and one man seems to have his head bowed in prayer. That’s strange.
“What’s going on?” Marin asks, rushing forward.
When she gets to the top, she covers her mouth with both hands and freezes like everyone else. Pushing my way forward, I stop next to her, following her shocked expression, and feel my heart seize up.
Below us, the small town of Dongsu should spread out like a spiderweb of happy little houses and buildings, with dirt roads cutting through them in a flurry of random lines. After we freed it from the Gardener’s occupation a few months ago, it has been thriving, even using some of the techiniques the rebellion shared with it to grow crops despite the drought.
Except now, there’s nothing to grow. The charred remnants of the buildings sit smoldering, burned mostly to the ground or having toppled over from a massive fire. The entire valley below is blackened wood and white ash piles where there were once brown houses, bright green grass, a large flowing fountain in the middle of town. All of it is gone, obscured by a giant smoke cloud that hangs over the wreckage like an omen of
doom.
All of those people…children, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters. My stomach rolls looking at the ashes of what they once were.
“No!” Rayce’s cry rises above the rest of the shocked chatter, and I hone in on it without even trying. “This can’t be. We just got reports in two days ago. Everything was fine.”
He spins around, finding me in the crowd as if drawn to me by something within. The wind picks up the tail of his long robe, throwing it back like it’s trying to pull him toward the wreckage. When our gazes meet, I can practically hear the women and men and children screaming behind his eyes, see failure threatening to crush him.
This is one of the many moments of leadership I would never want, when he has to stand up and take control even though the world shatters around him. He takes a tiny step forward like he’s stumbling on air, scrambling to make sense of the senseless act below us. Fighting back tears for all the lives that must have been lost in this slaughter, I press my hand to my lips and then bring it over my heart, holding it there, holding him there, keeping him from falling like he has always tried to do for me.
It takes him a moment to straighten his face, to lock away the rising tide of emotions washing over the rest of the platoon. A woman to my right falls to her knees, crying. But I stay with Rayce, my eyes never straying from his, my mind razor focused on keeping him rooted, because right now, that’s what we all need.
He takes a deep breath, standing up to his full height, his jaw clenching tightly. He transforms back into the shogun, the noxious cloud of smoke billowing up behind him, a constant reminder that as soon as my eyes leave him, the horrendous sight awaits me.
“At attention,” he says, his voice hard. Strained. “We need to find out what happened here quickly. There will be a time to mourn later, but right now, our first priority is figuring out what happened and locating any survivors. Split into groups of four and comb the city.”
Slowly, the guards rip themselves from their sorrow after he’s given his orders, dividing off into small sections without much conversation. I expect Rayce to head for the small group Arlo is in, but he marches straight for me. Considering he rarely acknowledges me during missions, his directness reveals just how much the sight has shaken him. My hands long to run through his hair, my lips yearning to whisper that everything is going to be okay against his skin as fervently as I wish to hear the same thing.
War of the Wilted Page 11
