Chapter Sixteen
Marin doesn’t ask me what goes on between Rayce and me, as if she can sense that it would open a flood of emotions I’m not even remotely capable of dealing with. We make camp about an hour’s travel north of the town, farther away from the watchful wall of the emperor. Rayce continues to ignore me now that we’re through with our mission, and I continue pretending it doesn’t bother me.
The night passes by slowly, sleep playing a complex game with me that I can’t keep up with, and by the time we’re supposed to rise, I don’t feel any more rested than when I lay down.
Riding over the tall grassy fields and hills of Delmar’s expansive plain offers little to see except for the occasional lone tree standing tall against the bright sky. Watching the wind-battered branches sway with the gentle breeze beats enduring the sweltering heat of the cart I was trapped in when we traveled between shows for the Garden.
The rolling hills in the distance remind me vaguely of the mountainous sand dunes in the Zaina Desert. All that’s missing is the unforgiving sun reflecting back from the grains of sand and the promise of a secret oasis over the next precipice.
The hills in the distance turn into a small forest. A few of the rebels break off toward where Rayce says we’ll rendezvous if something goes wrong, adding to the anxiety building in my gut like layers of sand.
The final hill looms overhead, testing the limits of our weary horses, and though the sun sits high, it hasn’t reached midday yet. I expect the valley to be empty, but a small cavalry of soldiers gather in the flat part, their armor bouncing the sunlight back into our eyes. There aren’t as many as promised, but between the forty-something soldiers that showed, there are plenty to put up a fair fight if they turn on us.
Rayce turns his black steed toward the troops. “Stay on guard, everyone. We’re only here to talk, so do not engage unless there’s no other option.”
Everyone around me salutes, though I still haven’t mastered the art of touching two fingers to my forehead every time Rayce finishes speaking. He turns his horse back around and begins to trot downhill.
“Keep a close watch on body language,” Arlo whispers, his left hand touching his stunner. “If you see anything out of line, don’t hesitate to protect the shogun.”
Normally, Arlo’s orders wouldn’t be a problem, but after what Rayce just said and how much we’ve angered him lately, I’m not confident I can go against Rayce’s words and withstand the anger that would surely follow. Snapping the reins of my own horse, my elbow brushes against the handle of my stunner, daring me to unholster it. The knot in my gut grows.
My heart pounds out every second it takes for us to traverse down the final hill. By the time we reach flat ground, my hands are so slick that the leather reins threaten to slip from my grasp. Though my eyes should be trained on the small pack of soldiers, I can’t look away from Rayce’s broad back. He carries all of his tension in his straight posture, but there’s a certain confidence in the way he refuses to look behind him. He knows his people will follow him through anything.
He stops about twenty feet from the pack and slides off his horse, preparing to meet them on foot. Now that we’re closer, I can see the bright blue details of the emperor’s sigil, signifying that these are Sun soldiers.
If this is a trap, it’s perfectly executed. Arlo hops off his horse and hurries to walk along Rayce’s right side. Without waiting for permission, I jump off my own mount, the impact of the hard ground rattling my sore legs.
“Rose, what are you doing?” Lily whispers.
I continue forward. “Just cover me.”
A man clad in full armor pulls his helmet off to reveal a head of black hair clipped close to his scalp and a scowl that could send even a well-trained soldier running the other way. This day just keeps getting better. His gaze combs over the pack of Zareeni rebels behind Rayce before flicking over me and resting on Rayce.
Rayce takes a step forward when I come up on his other side.
“I don’t recall giving the order for you to be here.” Rayce’s voice is smooth, unconcerned.
“I don’t recall giving you a choice,” I say. “We’re safer together, remember?”
Despite the seriousness of the situation and the rockiness of our current relationship, I swear his mouth tips up at the corners, but it’s too fast to be certain.
We walk to the halfway point in a V formation, Rayce a step or so in front of Arlo and me, toward the four soldiers holding their weapons tightly. He stops abruptly at an invisible line in the grass, crossing his arms over his chest. Arlo keeps his hand at the side, and though he isn’t touching his stunner, I’ve seen how fast his nimble fingers can draw it. If they attacked, two of them wouldn’t even get a sword swing in.
“You don’t have to keep your weapons drawn.” Rayce keeps his voice friendly. “We’re only talking, and I give you my word, my people will not attack unless you force our hand.”
The man without his helmet stops first, signaling the rest to follow his lead. Now that he’s nearer, the wisdom lines pressed into his sunbaked skin are a little more pronounced, and the beginning of a nasty-looking scar peeks out from the collar of his armor. His keen eyes pick us apart for any sign of weakness. It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes when his gaze lingers on me, but whether it’s because of my Varshan features or he thinks I’m the weakest is unclear. Either way, he’ll underestimate me, thanks to the general belief in Delmar that women aren’t meant for more than kitchen work.
“Can’t say the word of a traitor is that valuable to me.” The man’s voice rumbles across the open space between us. “But seeing as we both are considered traitors, I’ll say we don’t plan on attacking you. Understand, though, that we are in a particularly risky predicament here. This”—he motions between himself and Rayce—“is technically treason, and you aren’t the one who pays us. In fact, I don’t see our mutual friend anywhere.”
So he was looking for the Gardener.
“He’s otherwise occupied,” Arlo says. “But you have the honor of speaking with the shogun. Why worry about the middle man when you can speak with the person in charge?”
The Sun soldier spits on the ground. “I know who I’m speaking to. Your face is all over Imperial City. Hopefully what you have to offer us is worth a decent price. It would be a shame if the price on his head was worth more than what we make here.”
His unveiled threat sends my hand to my stunner faster than I thought possible. My arm glows softly through the light green sleeve of my uniform, and the soldier facing me chuckles as if even with a weapon drawn, I’m not a threat.
Rayce holds out both of his hands to calm everyone. “All right. Let’s not get off topic. You know my name, what’s yours?”
“Where are my manners?” The soldier’s mocking tone rubs me wrong. “The name’s Fa. Duifu Fa.”
Duifu?
That sounds vaguely familiar. The crunch of paper, a large book weighted against my crossed legs, the lingering scent of parchment, ink, and tea fighting not to disappear. It was in one of Oren’s books on war. This man isn’t just a soldier, he’s a leader.
Which makes me wonder.
“How did the Gardener get a Duifu to switch sides?” I ask.
A warm breeze sweeps down the hill, tearing at the grass between us and whipping out the long end of Rayce’s uniform toward me. My hair comes loose and flies out like it’s trying to greet the sky.
The solider in front of me sticks his sword in the ground and laughs, but it certainly isn’t with me. “Now the shogun has a woman speak for him?”
Rayce shifts next to me, his shadow blocking the sun from my face, and I loosen my grip on my stunner, my retort lodging in my throat. If he’s ever going to be able to trust me again, I have to respect his wishes.
“When she has something important to say, you can bet Yun’s beard, I let her speak for me,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Now answer the woman’s question, Duifu.”
&nbs
p; Fa holds his hand up, palm flat, to silence the snickering. “I’m here because I once belonged to Huidezun, and because of our mutual friend, I was able to join the army instead of being forced to work the fields under your uncle’s law.”
If the emperor had it his way, people would never look up from their work, marching in neat little lines until their bodies give out and they pass on while their comrades stomp over them. There’s no room for free will in the empire he oversees. He made that abundantly clear a few months ago in his office, when he likened Delmarions to ants and proceeded to drown the entire colony because a few started marching out of line. At one time, he might have been willing to help a caterpillar blossom into a butterfly, but those days have long ago passed.
So, Fa’s loyalty runs deeper than the gold the Gardener lines his pockets with.
Arlo’s voice remains smooth. “Then perhaps we can come to an agreement? We don’t wish for people to waste their potential, either. It’s what we fight for.”
“We know what you fight for,” Fa says. “But my men and I aren’t interested in your cause. Only what your cause can do for our gold pouches.”
Normally, I wouldn’t be eager to side with spineless cowards, but there’s something comforting knowing exactly where their loyalty lies.
“Whatever the Gardener was paying you,” Rayce says, “we will double it.”
This time Fa laughs with the men. “You couldn’t afford it, unless the rebellion is doing more than giving away free food and pestering your uncle.”
Actually, having raided the Gardener’s cart and confiscating all of the gold and rare trinkets he surrounded himself with, we can afford a lot more than we used to. Though the gold is there, Rayce chooses to live with the bare minimum. From the peeling and faded state of every surface in Imperial City, I’d guess thriftiness is something Rayce inherited from his uncle.
Arlo unhooks a plain brown pouch from his side and tosses it across the space between us. It lands with a loud crunch on the grass. Fa nods toward it, and the solider across from me bends over to pick it up, pulling the drawstrings open, then shows Fa the contents. The bright gold pieces gleam in the sunlight.
“That should satisfy you for now,” Rayce says. “I’m sure it’s much more generous than even our mutual friend was. Consider it the first installment.”
Fa’s large hands wrap around the pack and he tucks it underneath the sheet of leather connecting the tiny scales of metal protecting his chest.
“You have my attention, shogun,” he says, “and our swords for now. What do you require from us?”
Rayce scratches his chin. “I’d like you to fight beside us when the time comes. I will have someone from the rebellion contact you within the city walls with further instructions. Where can I find you?”
Fa nods back the way they came. “I’m stationed in the Temple Lin’s district. Large green-roofed barracks. Just ask for me.”
“Very well,” Rayce says. “Then I only have one more question for you right now. There was a small town outside the Shulin Forest, went by Dongsu. Do you know what happened to it?”
“I’ve heard whispers that it was burned down, although I—”
A peeling whistle breaks through the air from behind me. One of the rebels signaling the alarm. For a long second, the world is still. There’s nothing else besides the hectic thumping of my own heart. Beside me, Rayce tenses up, his fingers just wrapping around the thick leather hilt of his sword before the thwap of bowstrings fills the tiny valley.
A brief moment of horror while the soldiers in front of us look up.
At first they look like nothing more than black birds set against a blue sky until they arch down for our heads. The first arrow strikes the solider in front of me, right in the neck, a burst of blood spraying from the fatal wound as he drops to his knees. His death releases a flood as more arrows rain down, hitting soldier and rebel alike.
Rayce’s arm shoots out quicker than lightning, his blade flashing as he blocks an arrow whirling straight for my head. How close I was to a quick death sends my head spinning. My gaze floats up, ignoring the screams from all around me, and I catch the glimmer of metal before another wave of arrows arches down.
“Soldiers above us!” I shout.
Rayce’s free hand wraps around my forearm and he yanks me behind him, his wide back a shield as more whistling projectiles arc toward the ground. I clench my jaw, frustration pouring through my body. He’s the shogun. I’m supposed to be protecting him, not cowering behind his back like a child. I rip the stunner free from my side, the green Zarenite powder in the handle glowing as warmth shoots up my arm.
Planting my feet like Arlo taught me, I duck out behind Rayce, aiming high, and let a stunner bolt loose, the kickback of the weapon now as familiar to me as the powder within it.
“You betrayed us!” Arlo yells, turning his stunners on the soldiers in front of us.
“Did we?” Fa shouts back.
With a sharp flick of his hand, those remaining in his troop pull off their crossbows and swing around in unison, their backs to us as they kneel, making themselves smaller targets, and begin to fire in rounds on the Sun soldiers that crowd the crest of the opposite hill. Their arrows blend wood with mineral as they mix with the streaks of green Zarenite blasts already flying through the air.
A war cry joins the screams of the fallen, echoing throughout the valley as a stampede of horses races down the hilltop, using the string of another wave of arrows as cover. The attacking soldiers clash with the Sun soldiers in the valley in a blend of gleaming armor and blades, brown dirt, and bright red blood.
Rebels thunder forward, still on their horses, stunners blazing to join the fight, but even I’ve already lost which soldier was on our side and which was attacking, thanks to their identical armor.
A Sun soldier breaks through the crowd, heading straight for us.
Every inch of my attention pulls to Rayce as he throws his sword out with both hands, his long vest flying out behind him as he parries the soldier’s attack. Their blades collide, the sharp sound of metal clanging filling my head as sparks fly. The muscles in his arms flex as he holds his ground against the galloping beast and the man on top of it, pulling the soldier off his mount as he rushes by.
Rayce’s sword comes down in a spray of blood, his face twisted up in determination as he hacks through the man’s shoulder.
This part of the rebellion I could do without. But I know it hurts Rayce, too. The man cries out, adding another scream to Rayce’s—and my—already overflowing memory of them.
Even worse than his cry is when it cuts off.
I avert my gaze for just a second, and by the time I look up, Rayce has disappeared in the chaos. My heart slams to a stop as I swivel around, trying to pick out his black uniform amongst the mass of swirling bodies. Clover appears behind a Sun soldier who falls to his knees, clutching his sliced throat, her dagger dripping red. Two rebels descend on a soldier kneeling over another, his hands held up as he waits for their final blow right next to a rebel woman with a blade sticking through her stomach and an arrow in her shoulder. Any of these people could be Rayce, could be Arlo or Marin or Calla or Lily.
Where did Rayce go?
Fingers wrap around my free hand as I twist again, meeting a pair of tight brown eyes. Rayce.Though his gaze is filled with concern, I can’t help the rush of relief that spreads through me, seeing him safe next to me.
He motions behind us. “We have to fall back! Get on the horses!”
My voice nearly gets lost over the zap of another stunner. “I’m right behind you.”
We lurch forward, each of us clutching a weapon in one hand while our other palms clasp each other. His hands are slick with blood and sweat, but his grip remains firm as he weaves us through the sea of twisting bodies.
We are safest when we are together.
No matter what happens or how much we disagree, we are drawn to each other, two souls intertwined.
Hooves
barrel behind my back, death filling my ears, and I twist around, catching the breast of a brown horse and something shiny aimed straight at me.
No, this soldier won’t take me away from this moment. He won’t take me away from Rayce. No that easily.
Drawing strength from Rayce’s tight grip, I aim my stunner at the galloping horse, jamming the trigger down. A green bolt releases from my barrel, slamming into the horse’s chest in a blaze of hot energy. Its front legs buckle underneath its strong body, causing it to fall face first into the grass as the soldier atop flies off it, landing with a sickening thud a few inches from my leg before skidding to a stop.
A few more agonizing feet puts us in front of Rayce’s black mount. Sweat pours down my forehead, sticking my hair to the back of my neck and obscuring my vision. The sharp scent of iron fills the air and I can almost trick myself into believing it’s from the blades and armor until another man grunts out his final breath behind me.
Rayce’s voice cuts through the horror. “We need to get out of here.” He drops my hand, both of his large ones sliding to grip my waist. “Get on the horse, Rose. Help me out. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
Focus!
The only way to ensure death in battle is to stop paying attention. That’s a lesson I didn’t even need to learn from Oren’s books, because it’s one I’ve learned from facing battles too many times before.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m ready.”
Keeping my stunner in one hand, I grab the saddle’s leather pommel and pull myself on top of Rayce’s giant horse as he boosts me up.
Lifting my leg around the horse’s large body, I turn back toward the battle, searching for my Flowers, Marin, and Arlo in the mess, but everything shifts and swirls around so fast, the only identifier I catch is the green of a rebellion uniform or the flashing silver of a soldier.
And red.
So much red.
It soaks the ground, stains every surface in sprays and puddles. Sticky on my hands, hot on my face, everywhere.
War of the Wilted Page 15
