War of the Wilted

by Amber Mitchell

  The ending is something too big and too scary to fathom. Because if the rebellion reaches its end goal, then everything changes. Our lives change. And my biggest fear is that in this new life where Rayce becomes emperor, he will no longer be able to turn away from my faults.

  He clears his throat, banishing my fear for the moment. “I don’t have a lot of room to be wrong without dire consequences.”

  Blood tries to make my fingers slip, but I manage to pull the sharp piece of metal out of Rayce’s back. He lets out a gasp, his breathing racking his entire body as he tries to absorb the pain within himself.

  “For what it’s worth, I believe in you.”

  I pour the rest of the water on my hands to clean them and then pull out some clean bandages from a pouch attached to my hip. Though it isn’t much, every Zareeni guard always has one on them and I’m more than grateful for it right now. Pulling out some honey, a bag of medicinal herbs, and fresh gauze, I begin smearing the two wounds, first with the honey followed by the herbs.

  I clear my throat. “Oren would be proud.”

  His head hangs, concealing his reaction, but I hope he hasn’t gotten angry.

  “There, all finished.” My words nearly disappear over the rustle of the trees. “I’ll go get us more water.”

  The muscles in my legs scream at me as I begin to rise.

  “Wait…”

  Rayce reaches out, grabbing my hand, and I tumble back into him. My knees hit the ground, one on either side of his legs. My cheeks grow hot as he presses me to his chest, seeming unfazed by our current position or the river of his blood and water dripping off my hands. He wraps me up in him, in his scent, and even though he should be resting, I snuggle up next to him, starving for his nearness. I close my eyes, leaning into him, into the space that fits me like the home I never had and try not to focus on the fact that I might not get here again. All because of a little vial.

  “I miss you…” I whisper into his chest. “I miss us.”

  He lets out a shuddering sigh, but words don’t escape his lips, leaving my heart to pound out the long, lonely seconds.

  Above us, the sun has almost disappeared, suspending the world in the violent struggle between day and the rapidly approaching night. My life has been an endless dance between splashes of light and the empty, terrifying dark.

  “I miss this, too.” His voice sounds scratchy. Maybe from blood loss or the ordeal we just went through. Perhaps from my statement. “The quiet moments, the way your hair smells, the feeling of your fingers curling around the back of my shirt.” He rests his head against the top of mine and pulls in a deep breath through his nose. “Everything that makes you…you.”

  He grimaces, leaning forward off the tree trunk that has been supporting him. My fingers twitch to keep him nearer, the need to keep him close nearly painful at this point. I can’t stand the sight of his back anymore. Especially right now, with everything that happened.

  His hand slides to the back of my head, his fingers gently diving into my hair, and he pulls me slowly toward his frowning mouth. Our lips meet in an embrace, light and soft like the tickle of the powder brush the Wilteds would use on my face before a performance. This isn’t a kiss to get lost in. There is no reckless need to get closer, to explore more. But it makes my heart pound as if it were. Because this is a kiss for finding. His lips move tenderly against mine, searching for the missing piece that will bind us back together.

  Our mouths part painfully slow, each inch a new rip in my already threadbare heart. He leaves his nose resting against mine for a moment longer. Maybe he’s afraid, too.

  Finally, he leans back against the tree, suspending me somewhere between his warmth and the cold air that replaces it.

  Was this enough? Am I enough?

  His eyes bore into mine, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Not right now.”

  His hand slips from my bloodstained ones.

  My head feels too heavy to keep up and I don’t fight the feeling, clutching his robe as if I just keep hold of him, I can stop us from splitting apart. What do you do when your heart wants to two different things and in order to achieve one, you must lose the other?

  Hope used to be a blossom I would stomp on before it could take root and grow. It’s the most dangerous feeling in the Garden because there was no one was coming to rescue us.

  But the rebellion thrives on hope.

  And it’s the last stitch holding Rayce and me together. A fragile thing… Burn it or stomp on it and it splits apart, but give it water and sunlight and watch it grow. It’s something we both need to want, and judging by the weariness behind his voice, I’m not sure if he can anymore. I run my hand over his cheek gently.

  I’ll hold onto us, until he can see we’re only whole when we’re together.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After setting Rayce up in the small cave, I pull the saddle off his horse to get him situated as best as possible for the night. As I place Rayce’s bag down and start to fish through it for anything we can eat, coolness seeps into the back of my hand.

  Looking for the culprit sends my heart thumping in my chest. The pale blue liquid is unmistakable even in the weak light. Arlo’s poison. No, my poison.

  I could pocket it right now and finish the task I started. A few more drops and the Gardener would finally be dead.

  I lift up the vial, studying the milky liquid as if seeing it for the first time. Rayce’s mouth clenched in a tight line, the feel of him pulling his arm away from my grasp, the loneliness his broad back brought on every time I turned his way fills me, and I realize that the Gardener isn’t worth losing Rayce for. Rayce might be the only thing for which it’s worth letting the Gardener live.

  Tucking the vial back where I found it, I head into the cave and pull the blanket I found in his pack over him so he can rest easier for the night.

  Sleeping beside Rayce, feeling his warmth inches from me, his arm so close all I’d need to do is roll over to accidentally brush him is a new kind of torture I’m not equipped to endure. I spend most of the dark hours staring at his sleeping face, the moonlight seeping in through the cave’s mouth illuminating the white bandage poking out of his tattered robe.

  There has to be a bridge between a fake apology and betraying him by sneaking around, but if there is, I can’t find it here in the darkness. Watching him sleep, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath he takes, the way the moonlight highlights the long scar crawling down his face that he wears with pride because it reminds him why he fights, it all tempts me into giving up on my revenge. But my sisters’ faces, Fern’s face, won’t allow that.

  I sit up on my elbow, staring at the bridge of his nose, the gentle way his eyelashes meet his soft cheeks, his hard jawline and the splash of shadow creeping over it. It would be so easy to lean over and kiss him right now. Remind him why I could be enough. But what’s broken between us isn’t so easily fixed. I turn over, facing away from him, curling into myself to find a little more warmth.

  I feel the blanket drape over top of me, his warmth still clinging to it, as if he’s trying to tell me without words that we’ll find a way back to each other. If only there was a way he could share with me his ability to lead. Then I would truly have nothing to fear.

  Morning breaks too quickly, my eyelids drooping heavily from exhaustion. I don’t have time to be tired, though. We need to meet the others at the rendezvous point.

  Rayce stirs when I rub his shoulder to wake him, the smile that plays over his lips when he sees me looking down at him nearly enough to make me collapse. I check his bandages to make sure he hasn’t bled through them, help him out of the cave, and untie the large steed.

  We ride for another hour until the scouts find us and usher us back to the rebel camp. Of the thirty rebels that started with us, a little more than half made it back. Considering the barrage of arrows raining from the sky yesterday, that’s a larger number than I was expecting.

 
Arlo bursts through the woods from the other side of the site with three guards while two men help Rayce off the horse

  “I saw Rayce get shot and I feared the worst when I saw you galloping away,”Arlo shouts. “And then neither of you showed up at camp last night.”

  “We had to stop for the night so I could treat his wounds, and he needed rest,” I say.

  Rayce winces, his boots hitting the hard ground. “She took good care of me.”

  Arlo comes to a halt a few feet away, taking in Rayce’s tight face and the tattered state of his uniform. “I’m relieved you both are okay. Lang, we need you over here to look at the shogun.”

  His call summons a woman, her graying hair hanging in a loose bun at the base of her neck and the sure hands of someone who has seen injury, judging by the way she doesn’t shake when she touches Rayce’s shoulder.

  Arlo holds up his arm to help me off the horse, and knowing Rayce is in good hands, I take it. My feet barely touch the ground when I see a blur of curly light brown hair running for me. Marin crashes into my arms, knocking me back into the weary horse.

  “I was so worried about you both!” She squeezes tighter. “We looked for you all night long.”

  “We?” I hug her back.

  Before she can answer, two more bodies topple into us, joining in our hug. Calla’s hand guides my head to rest on hers and Lily laughs.

  “You shouldn’t scare us like that, Rose,” Lily says.

  Even Clover stands a few feet behind them. Her long hair hangs loose in her face and her left hand is wrapped in white gauze, a red stain blossoming through it.

  Marin squeezes me for a moment longer then finally lets me go. “Don’t ever disappear on us again.”

  “Consider us even for the time you got captured at Dongsu, then.”

  She shakes her head, but it doesn’t wipe the smile from her face. For a moment, it’s easy to pretend that everything is right in the world.

  The seriousness of Rayce’s voice pulls me back toward their conversation. He stands without any help, letting Lang redress his wound. He’s in full shogun mode, his face drawn into a tight line as he listens to Arlo, whose back is turned to me.

  “I’m not sure this is the wisest course of action,” Rayce says.

  Arlo moves his hand up toward his face, likely running it through his beard like he does when he’s uncertain. “I don’t think we have any other options. We were able to hold off the attacking Sun soldiers with Fa, and he promised to look into whoever revealed our location, but that doesn’t solve the Varshan issue.”

  That word catches my throat. “What problem with Varsha?”

  Arlo looks over his shoulder, his eyes tight as they meet mine. “Whether they’ve invaded Delmar. We’re getting more reports of a large army moving for Imperial City. If they’re true and they’d be willing to agree to a temporary truce, this might be the ideal time to launch an attack that would end all of the fighting.”

  “And how do you plan on verifying the reports?” I ask.

  “By confirming them myself,” Arlo says, turning back to Rayce. “I’m not asking for any men. I’ll go on my own and report back my findings.”

  Rayce grits his teeth as Lang ties fresh gauze around his wound. “How do I know I can even trust you?”

  Silence hangs in the air between them, so thick it feels like I could choke on it. I understand that Rayce is mad, but Arlo was just trying to help me.

  Arlo speaks through gritted teeth. “Because I’m the best chance you have at gathering this information and you know it. I can take care of myself, and it will be easier for me to do this without anyone else to worry about or slow me down.”

  Rayce studies Arlo for a long moment, only breaking to nod his thanks to Lang.

  “Very well,” he says. “Go find out what you can and report back.”

  Arlo nods curtly. “I’m glad you’re back, shogun. Get well while I’m gone.”

  Marin looks between Rayce and Arlo, narrowing her eyes at Rayce before running after her brother. “Arlo, wait!”

  My heart slams in my chest, watching Arlo march off toward a horse by himself with Marin chasing after him. One thing we should have learned by now is that just because someone leaves doesn’t guarantee that they’ll be coming back.

  “Are you really going to let him go off on his own?” I ask.

  Rayce will not meet my gaze. “I simply allowed him to do what he requested. He’s perfectly capable of seeing this mission through.”

  “Then you should have at least told him thank you. You’re better than this, Rayce.”

  I don’t wait for his answer, running after Marin and her brother. She has him stopped about twenty steps from the edge of the forest, her hands waving wildly in the air. He says something in response to her, earning himself a punch in the shoulder.

  “Then go be stupid!” she yells. “But you better come back or I will kill you.”

  Arlo says something back to her, which she promptly ignores.

  She walks past me, fuming. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

  Arlo must have heard his sister, because he stuffs his hands into his pockets and turns around before I can reach him.

  I run to keep up with him as he heads for the woods. “Wait, you can’t do this.”

  “Discovering the truth behind Dongsu is important,” Arlo says. “I figured you, of all people, would want some answers, since it seems Varsha is responsible.”

  Expending the last of my waning energy, I run ahead and hold out my hand to stop his single-minded march. “You can’t just leave me here,” I say. “Rayce is already mad enough. Maybe we could try apologizing to him.”

  “That’s what you’re so worried about?” His voice rips out of his throat, his eyes boring into me. “You’re trying to get me to stay because you’re worried about your relationship with Rayce? Are you really that selfish?”

  His words cut me to my bone, and I stutter. “I-is his opinion of you really that unimportant?” I ask. “Because what he thinks, his emotional state on the battlefield, it all matters. Are you really going to just ignore what happened and let it weigh on his mind? On your mind?”

  “No.” He steps around me and continues walking, checking that his stunner hilt is full. Forcing me to once again trail him like a lost child. “I’m going to do what I’ve always done. I’m going to serve the rebellion the best way I can. We were in the wrong for hiding our plan from him, but he was in the wrong for forbidding the Gardener’s death in the first place. Until he realizes he’s also at fault here, there will be no reconciliation.”

  He unties his mount from a nearby oak tree, clearly unconcerned about my worries.

  I grit my teeth. “That isn’t good enough for me, and it shouldn’t be for you, either. He got shot twice yesterday. He could have died. Any of us could have. Is this really how Oren would want you both acting?”

  Reins in his hand and foot up on the stirrup, he pauses.

  “Maybe not.” He shakes his head and boosts himself onto the horse. “But either way, the only thing I can do right now is to answer this question for the rebellion. I suggest you find a way to do the same and make yourself useful. Make him remember why he wanted to trust you in the first place.”

  I falter. Was aiding Rayce by fleeing from the battlefield after he was injured and taking care of his wounds last night not useful enough? Has respecting his need for space not already earned me that right?

  Behind me, shouts from Marin coordinating the troops to get back on their horses in her brother’s absence ring out. I need to get going or they’re going to leave me behind.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go figure out if Varsha has really invaded Delmar.” He snaps the reins and the horse stomps its foot on the ground. “Good luck.”

  I wish him the same and watch him ride off, his words filtering through my head. I have to find a way to remind Rayce why he can trust me.

  That’s easier said than done, but it won
’t stop me from trying. Nothing will.

  …

  We ride south for two days, steadfastly avoiding the charred remains of Dongsu. I keep my horse close behind Rayce’s so that I can watch him. The ride wears on him, but by the dawn of the third day, when we are back underneath the shade of the Shulin Forest, he seems to travel a little more comfortably.

  The guards move through the forest with the ease of familiarity in their steps and we make it back to base just as the sun sets. We leave one darkness to dive into another, but at least the underground base has veins of Zarenite to light our way.

  I’ve barely had time to set my pack down when I’m summoned to the kitchen to prepare dinner for the Gardener. After Rayce found the poison, I thought this little tradition would be put to rest, but clearly that isn’t the case.

  The kitchen has been cleared out for the night. A few pots sit out on the counter near me, along with a large tray. A pot of water boils over a large fire popping close enough to me that it fights back some of the chill in the base’s air. No sound besides my spoon scraping the bottom of a pot breaks the quiet, leaving me entirely to my own thoughts and sore feet.

  White rice sticks to the large spoon as I splat it into a small ceramic bowl and set it next to thinly sliced pieces of salmon. The Gardener’s requested meal for the night. It makes my stomach churn, thinking about going back down there.

  But I will do this, if for nothing more than to prove to Rayce that he can trust me.

  I reach for the small kitchen knife that I’d placed near the cutting board and begin to chop ginger into small slices. The door behind me opens and the knife comes down unnervingly close to my pointer finger. Turning over my shoulder, I watch Rayce walk into the kitchen, coming around the long wooden table I stand at to rest on the opposite side of it.

  The right side of his robe hangs down, his bandaged shoulder and arm on full display.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to show up,” I say.

  The corner of his mouth tips up into a smile that doesn’t find his eyes. His gaze remains trained on the food I’m preparing. He slips his hand into his pocket and produces the vial of poison, as if to reassure himself that I hadn’t stolen it from him.