Garden of Thorns

by Amber Mitchell

  A soldier blocks my way. I hold up my stunner, firing before it’s even well aimed and scurry forward. The green bolt never comes. I look down in a panic and realize the stunner barrel is empty. I’m out of Zarenite.

  From behind him, I see Arlo shoving Kyra into Suki’s hands and aiming his stunner. Even injured, he refuses to give up on me. One of the other rebels grabs him before he can shoot, pulling him through the exit as a large cluster of Sun soldiers rush toward them.

  “Rose, look out!” he yells, and then he’s gone.

  I glance up as the soldier’s blade swings at my head, but I lunge back, tripping over the wood. Then the butt of his sword falls heavy on the top of my head, pain exploding from the impact like the bomb on the door. For a moment, all I can hear is the unrelenting squeal of the siren, mimicking the pain surging down my body, and then arms wrap around my middle. I throw my head back, trying to break the hold, but it tightens around me. Tiny rivets of his metal uniform dig into my back. Pain sparks all down my body, and white spots bloom in my vision.

  “Nice try, Flower,” the soldier says, his voice sliding around my neck like a noose. “I know who you are, and when the emperor gets here, he’s going to give me a huge reward for finding you.”

  Icy dread floods my limbs, sending my head spinning. The emperor’s eyes crawling up my skin as he judged me during the night of my last performance mingles with the stories Rayce told me.

  “And here he comes now.”

  My body seizes up at the soldier’s words, and I follow his gaze toward the stairs. At the very top of the stretching stone staircase, a tall figure descends, his arms tucked into the long sleeves of his sapphire robe and his train flaring unceremoniously behind him as he moves. His long iron-tinged hair is tied back at the base of his neck.

  The emperor’s sharp eyes flick my way, and I’m pulled under the weight of his gaze, recalling the wanted posters plastered in Dongsu. The steep reward. He knows who I really am. The sound of his measured footsteps echoes in the stilled air, drowning out the sound of my own racing heart.

  A few moments pass as he takes his time down the staircase. Reaching the last step, he sweeps over the scene in front of him, the cold expression on his face unchanging as the stone. On the side of his robe, woven just over his heart, is the imperial emblem—a white dragon snaking around a blue sky. Three captured Zareeni guards are forced to their knees in front of him, blades digging into the backs of their necks.

  The emperor parts his hands. “Kill them,” he says in an uninterested voice. “Now that we have her, we have no use for any more captives.”

  “No!” I scream, thrashing against my captor.

  But it’s too late. The sound of metal slicing through flesh and bone fills the air.

  The emperor meets my gaze, the sight of him blurred through tears, and all I can see is the jagged scar running down his nephew’s face.

  Rayce’s lament echoes in my head: I used to believe my uncle wasn’t a bad man. But I was wrong, and it nearly cost me my soul.

  If this man will kill three people without a thought and permanently scar his own heir, what does he plan to do to me?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Leaving the three lifeless bodies of my Zareeni comrades on the floor, the emperor turns to head back up the stairs. I stare down at their unseeing faces—a woman maybe only a few years older than I am and two men—and try to recall their names so I can tell Rayce whom he lost…if I even see him again. Blood pools from their wounds, staining the stone floor.

  “Bring the girl,” the emperor says without turning his head, and it’s clear where Rayce got his knack for giving unquestioning orders. “Throw the others into the pit.”

  A short soldier twists rope around my wrists, pulling so tight that my hands turn pale as the scratchy strands dig into my flesh.

  The soldier holding me slings me over his shoulder like I’m a sack of grain, and I come face-to-face with my reflection in one of the soldier’s shiny armor plates.

  He follows a few paces behind the emperor, my face bumping into his back every time he takes a step. I kick out at him, and using his other hand, he pins my legs to his chest, twisting them until I can feel my tendons straining against the resistance.

  The sound of Arlo screaming my name bounces around in my head, the fact that they left me here appearing quickly after. What are they going to tell Rayce? Will they come back for me like they did for Piper’s sister?

  After everything I’ve learned about Rayce, I’m inclined to believe he won’t. This mission was already too dangerous, and he made it clear his rebellion can’t afford to risk losing people or assets. Every time I blink, I see him sitting next to me, his face bright as he describes what the rebellion wants to accomplish, and my gut twists. Will I ever be that near to him again?

  As we walk, the walls change from crudely carved stone to lacquered wooden panels detailing ornate scenes of cherry trees dripping with delicately carved petals, of birds in flight and long, twisting dragon tails. Reflected from the glistening white tiles that line the floor like snake scales are exposed beams in the ceiling, painted in bold patterns in a myriad of colors with jewels dotting along the dizzying pattern like stars. Though the surroundings are elaborate, the paint looks sun worn, and each panel on the wall is in need of a thorough polishing.

  Everything sparkles with cleanliness but lacks the love of something truly cared for, like a beautiful face without paint.

  My thoughts wander back to the Garden and Oren. I hope they were successful and the others have been freed from the Gardener’s rule.

  My captor takes a sharp left and enters through a pair of large doors. We walk into a room lined in dark blue wallpaper dotted with clusters of yellow, red, and white flowers and intricate depictions of bugs. Large beams break up the room, the silvery length of a dragon carved into the wood to look like it’s wrapped around them. Tucked in the corner is a small seasonal shrine, with the jade figure of the goddess Lin clad only in leaves, surrounded by artfully placed stones. The sky-colored prayer pillow underneath it shows no knee indentations.

  I wonder how many times Rayce stood in this very room when he lived at the palace. Is this where the emperor permanently scarred him?

  “Set the girl down,” the emperor says.

  The soldier who’s been carrying me grabs me by the hips and swings me onto a bench, slamming my knee into an oversized wooden desk on the way down.

  “That’s attached,” I say, glaring up him.

  He ignores me, placing his hands on my shoulders and proceeding to pat me down. I try to get away from him, but the back of the bench pins me in place as his hands grope. He removes the book Oren gave me, setting it and my stunner on the corner of the desk.

  “Sir, I’ve placed the items recovered from her person on the de—”

  “Cut her wrists free,” the emperor snaps.

  The soldier looks down at his helmet.

  After a short pause, “That wasn’t a request.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The soldier produces a serrated knife from his boot. He yanks my hands up by the rope and shoves the blade through my bindings. A sharp prick pulses from my wrist as the knife nicks my skin, and blood trickles down my extended right arm.

  “Now gather the instructions for the journey to the wall and get out,” the emperor orders, pointing to a towering stack of parchment on the corner of his desk.

  “But sir, are you sure it’s safe to—”

  The soldier’s questioning finally warrants a turn from the emperor. The muscles in his jaw twitch beneath his impeccably trimmed goatee.

  “Right away, sir,” the soldier stammers, snatching up the papers and taking a step backward. He stumbles over the edge of a blue rug, nearly dropping the parchments.

  The door behind us clicks shut, signaling that I’m now completely alone with the ruler of Delmar.

  He moves away from me toward the left side of the room. I follow his movement, my eyes widening a
s I see what he’s gazing at. Covering the entire wall is glass, blocking out the expensive wallpaper. Enclosed in the square cases of glass are over thirty different sections filled with white sand. Running through the grains are tiny rivulets, snaking all the way up the cages like branches on a tree, with red, brown, and black ants of varying sizes.

  “Over here, Flower.” He motions next to him.

  I cross my arms over my chest and lean back on the bench.

  “I’d like you to get one thing straight,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “You’re sitting here as a courtesy. I could just as easily be talking to you three days from now after you’ve had no food and plenty of time to reflect on your attitude. It would behoove you to be civil. Now, come over here.”

  Gritting my teeth, I rise from the bench. My feet feel like rocks have been tied to them as I cross the room, standing as far from the emperor as I possibly can. He touches the hilt of his blade, and I wonder if it’s the same one he used to carve into his nephew’s face.

  “Do you know what I appreciate about ants?” the emperor asks, leaning down to look into the nearest terrarium. He nods for me to follow his lead.

  I don’t oblige him with an answer, choosing instead to focus on the spot above his head.

  “They’re orderly,” he says. “The workers work without question because that is what they were made to do. The soldiers defend their colony because that is what they were made to do, and they all understand that their place is underneath their queen. Ants have mastered the perfect social order. There is no argument, there is no disagreement. Just work that benefits everyone.”

  His explanation loosens my tongue, and I clench my hands into fists, blood dripping out from the nick on my wrist. The bodies of three Zareeni guards now lying broken in the bottom of the pit turn my blood cold.

  “Does killing innocent people benefit everyone, too?”

  Emperor Sun clicks his tongue. He turns and picks up a long, thin utensil from a table lined with strange-looking metallic instruments. For a moment, my heart stops as his finger trails over the pointed tip, and I wonder if those might be torture devices.

  “Your answer lies here,” he says, spinning around and pointing to a spot on the glass.

  My gaze flickers to his finger, and I see a single ant splitting off from the steady stream of his brethren, heading up a different path on its own.

  He sticks the wiry instrument into the sand, putting it in the way of the lone ant. It takes the bait, stepping onto the metal, and the emperor fishes it out.

  “If the people are already ruined, yes,” he answers, holding out the utensil between us. I can just make out the tiny ant crawling around on the stick. “Sometimes even ants don’t fall in line, preferring to go on their own path.”

  He holds up his thumb and forefinger, smashing the ant on the wire.

  “And if you don’t eradicate the problem quickly, other ants will follow the scent.”

  Despite myself, my attention falls back on the ant farm in front of me. About ten others have broken from the path and are marching in the tunnel their now fallen comrade chose, forging their own way.

  “Now the entire colony is ruined,” the emperor says with a sigh.

  He takes a bucket of soapy water sitting on the edge of the table and pours it into the ant farm, flooding the sand routes as the ants scramble to move away from the water. After emptying the bucket, he wipes his hand clean on a silk towel and moves back across the room.

  The ants squirm, trying to survive the flood, climbing on top of each other in their desperation, and I’m reminded of the twisting tunnels of Zareen filled with people who have fallen out of line. Is this the emperor’s answer for them, too? A shiver jolts down my spine.

  “Would you care for some tea?” the emperor asks, stepping behind his desk.

  “No.” I purse my lips. He can offer me the entire world and I still wouldn’t accept anything, not from the man who allowed the Garden into his city. The man who nearly stole Rayce’s soul… I fist my hands in my lap, happy to feel the bite of my fingernails on my palms.

  “Sit.” He nods toward the bench.

  With stiff legs, I do as he says.

  Emperor Sun takes a seat in a high-backed chair, and I have to squint against sunlight filtering in from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. The middle one hangs open to a marble balcony. A cool breeze blows in the scent of freshly cut grass. If only I could dive into that open space and disappear. Maybe…

  My gaze falls from him to my stunner sitting on the edge of his desk.

  “I wouldn’t even consider it if you value your life,” he says, taking a parchment from his desk and rolling it up.

  He opens a drawer in his massive desk and drops the parchment inside. I can see from here that every spare quill, ink pot, and fresh piece of parchment is meticulously placed in its own spot. He pulls out another scroll and rolls it flat on the desk. I recognize my face on it and realize he’s sliding a wanted poster between us.

  “You’re a hard girl to track down, Rose,” Emperor Sun says.

  “That wasn’t by accident.”

  “And yet, here you are.” He sits back in his chair and steeples his fingers. “I knew taking that child would convince my nephew to rescue her eventually.” He drums his fingers together. “He’s always been soft. What I didn’t expect was for him to give me you in exchange.”

  I watch his face, waiting for some hint to help me figure out where this is leading.

  He doesn’t. His steely gray eyes bore into my face like twin blades.

  “He didn’t hand me over,” I say. “I volunteered to come on this mission.”

  “He either placed too much confidence in your abilities or he didn’t know who you really are.” He leans forward. “So tell me…which mistake did he make?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I force my gaze to stay locked on his, try to forget about the blue sky beckoning me from just beyond that open window. He’s a trained warrior, with years of practice reading people. He can’t know I’m planning to bolt until I’m already out of his reach.

  “You can drop the act, Flower.” He spits out the word like it’s a weed. “I know your secret.”

  His declaration crawls up my skin like frost on a windowpane. The Gardener wouldn’t have gotten so much help from Delmar without their leader knowing what I’m worth. All those wanted posters. Of course he knew—and I knew he knew—but to hear him admit it stuns me.

  “I’m just a girl, a nobody,” I say, keeping my voice flat.

  He’s up before I’m through speaking. He slams his palms onto the hard wood of his desk, his mouth in a snarl. The parchment under his fingers crinkles.

  “Don’t you dare take me for a fool!” he snaps. “I know what that marking on your foot indicates. Why do you think you’re sitting here right now instead of lying in pieces at the bottom of the pit with the others?”

  He straightens, running his thick fingers down his robe to smooth out the wrinkles. Every bit of rage erases from the lines in his face, receding back into the fiery pit of his eyes. Back to blank. Back in control.

  “I understand what you’re running from,” he says. “Your master showed me your little trinket and told me all about your secret past, Princess. Why do you think I even considered his proposal?”

  “I know things, too,” I snap. “I know why you need the Garden here in Imperial City.”

  “Have you bought into my nephew’s rhetoric, too?” the emperor asks, his tone verging on amused. “Are you so quick to join a rebellion when it was that same thing that overthrew your father?”

  The way his voice flips around like two sides of a gold piece sets my skin on edge, and his mention of my father knocks the wind out of me. Talking with him feels like negotiating with a tiger that hasn’t decided if it’s hungry or not.

  “I’m betting my nephew didn’t know what he was giving up or he never would have let you come near the city. Would yo
u care to explain to me why you never told him about your birthright?”

  I stare straight ahead. My claim to the Varshan throne is still legitimate, even though the usurper sits on it now, but I can’t go back there. I can barely make decisions for myself. What qualifications do I have to lead an entire people? If I went back, it would be for revenge, not for power.

  “Well?” the emperor presses.

  He will not inspire fear in me. He can’t. Not if I hold any hope of escaping.

  My fingers itch to move, my feet begging to run, but I stay still.

  “No?” he asks. “Fine. That isn’t the important question, anyway.” He pours himself a cup of oolong tea, the thick, woody aroma giving away the flavor. “What we need to discuss is a trade.”

  “I’m not interested in trading anything with you.”

  “Is that so?” He sets down his teacup. “Pay attention. You might find Delmar has a lot more to offer you than some half-thought-out rebellion.”

  I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Think about it, Princess,” he explains. “If you combine forces with us, your enemies become our enemies. My army becomes your army. And with your claim to the Varshan throne, we could finally unite the kingdoms. All you would need to do is agree to marriage.”

  “To who?” For a moment my heart skitters, thinking he means Rayce, but then I remember: Rayce cut himself off from the royal line of Delmar. That only leaves— “You?”

  Emperor Sun nods.

  “I’m not interested,” I repeat, this time through gritted teeth.

  “Not even if you can end the Garden and free those still trapped in it?”

  His words cut through my resolve. I’ve been so focused on my own predicament, I almost forgot about the other two missions happening today. “What do you mean, still?”

  A predatory smile spreads over his face. “You didn’t think your little friends managed to bring down the Garden, did you? My nephew may have dreams of grandeur, but his rebellion is just a boy’s attempt at filling a man’s role.”

  My world shrinks. What happened to the other girls? And Oren? Marin? Was Rayce captured, too?