War of the Wilted

by Amber Mitchell

  My eyes widen when she says that, my stomach churning. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t make that guarantee. I can’t be everywhere at once and—”

  Calla stands up before I can continue rambling, leaving her food abandoned where she was sitting, and marches off to her tent. Lily frowns at my response and runs after her sister.

  If Rayce or Arlo were faced with the same situation, they would have made some grand speech about protecting each other; if it were Oren he would have had the perfect words of wisdom to impart. But I’m not either of them, and all I managed to do was let them down when they needed me. This is why I’m much better suited tucked away with Oren’s treasure trove of books.

  I can’t stop the rebellion from moving forward, Rayce from marching toward an ending that might not include me by his side, but I should prepare for what comes after.

  My head totters, too heavy to hold up, and I let it sink into my hands.

  Oren, give me the right words. Please, help me figure out a way through all of this dangerous terrain, because right now, it feels like I can’t do anything right.

  I move my arm to brush against my necklace, trying to connect to Oren in the only way I know how anymore. Perhaps he hears me. I like to think he does anyway. Raising my head, my gaze falls back on Rayce’s tent. Beside me, footsteps alert me to Clover’s movement. She’s probably grown tired of me, too. I wait for loneliness to set in, but then I see her pick up Calla’s abandoned food.

  “You can’t do everything,” she says, her voice raspy from disuse.

  My eyes widen and I turn to look at her, trying to verify what I heard was real. I’m fairly certain she talks to Juniper, who she has always been close with, while they are back at base, but she hasn’t ever said much more than necessary to me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s just scared.” She shrugs, taking another bite. “But it isn’t your responsibility to keep us safe. You’re doing okay.”

  With her final statement, she heads for her own tent.

  Grabbing a pail of water beside me, I throw it on the fire, watching the smoke waft up into the sky until my eyes grow accustomed to the darkness. I head back to the tent Marin and I will share when she gets back and curl up in the soft cotton bedroll on the ground.

  Tomorrow, everything could change. If Rayce is correct, then the war between the rebellion and the empire will finally be over. I’m not sure what that world will look like. Part of me expected this war to last forever, that Rayce and I could continue living the life we carved out under the mountains, dreaming of a time when we were both ready to rule an entire kingdom but never reaching it.

  Now everything my life looked like could change again tomorrow. The home I’d worked so hard to find and protect just a few short months ago could be forgotten. The next time Rayce walks through Imperial City’s gates, it might be as their ruler.

  Last time we were this close to Imperial City, all we hoped to do was rescue Kyra, Piper’s sister. That night, I’d had Rayce to keep me company in the long lonely hours before our mission.

  I close my eyes, giving myself permission to go back there, to the night it rained and he sat near me on my cot, lending me his body heat.

  Sometime later, rustling from the tent flap alerts me that Marin has returned. Sleep hangs heavy on my eyelids, trying to tempt them back into their closed position. I don’t even bother turning over.

  “Everything go okay?”

  She doesn’t answer me right away, leaving me to wonder if she has bad news. I snuggle deeper into my sheet.

  “Was the Varshan army near the gate? We need them to play distraction tomorrow. It’s the only way this plan is going to work.”

  Another long stretch of silence. I’m about to speak again when I feel her hand grip my foot. Except, it isn’t her hand at all. It’s far too large and callused to be Marin, but that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize it. I’d know the tenderness of this touch anywhere. Rayce. He came.

  A voice in the night. “Whatever happens, be careful tomorrow.”

  It’s only a whisper, the breeze in the night sky, but it sends a calmness through my limbs, lulling my worries to the back of my mind.

  Pushing up on my elbow, I swing around to spot him, the blanket falling off my head. I’m surrounded by darkness, the new moon providing no light, but my eyes are adjusted enough to see the flap of our tent moving in a wind that isn’t blowing outside. I crawl over to the entrance and can feel a warm spot where he kneeled for a moment in the dark.

  My hand goes to rip open the thin fabric keeping us apart, but pauses against the tough, scratchy material.

  If he wanted to talk more, he would have stayed. He said he needed time.

  But at least, he came. It might be for only a few minutes, in the dead of night. He might have taken away my chance to respond, but he did show up. It isn’t nearly enough, but it will hold me over for the rest of the night until we meet in the middle of Imperial City. Until I can watch him claim what is his, and everything about our lives changes.

  My mind flickers back to the moment I ripped the arrow out of his arm, how he admitted that he didn’t think he’d ever be ready to be emperor, but that he would find a way to step up to the challenge when the time came.

  He’s always been willing to do what it takes to reach the future he dreams of. But I will never be able to stretch out far enough to grasp onto the world he wants to create.

  Tomorrow, he might not just be our shogun. If we all do our parts correctly, he might become the new emperor and take his first giant step away from me.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The next morning, I awake with my stomach in knots, knowing what we plan to do today. Getting dressed, I fumble with the tie on my robe, with the holster for my stunner, with my own hair, and pray to whichever of the five gods is listening that I’m getting out all my mistakes before the battle starts. Outside my tent, most of the campsite has already been broken down, and rebels are checking their stunners, their Zarenite reserves, and armor for any last-minute changes.

  Calla, Lily, and Clover are gathered around already, Clover readjusting her boot when I walk up. Lily nudges Calla with her shoulder when she turns and sees me.

  Calla doesn’t meet my gaze, tucking her hands in her long-sleeved navy robe. “Lily and I were talking last night and I just wanted to say…I’m sorry. Like I said, I was nervous.”

  I frown. “I know things have been strange lately, for all of us, and I’m sorry for that. I’m doing my best, but I’ve never claimed to have all the answers. I know you sometimes rely on me because I was here first, but I’m really not meant to lead.”

  Liar should be stamped on my forehead. Even as I say the words, I know they aren’t true. I was born to rule, born to be the queen of the Varshan people and potentially unite both kingdoms through my union with Rayce. But that was a girl from a long time ago. Life and circumstance has robbed me of that destiny, and now all that’s left are the messes I keep making. Everything I’ve tried in order to become the woman Rayce deserves to have rule by his side has ended up in a disaster. I’m not meant for the pressures of leading people. All of Rayce’s tireless nights, the decrees he agonizes over signing, the time he puts in to knowing each of his people individually. I’m not capable of that kind of dedication.

  “Even so.” Lily walks up beside me and leans her head on my shoulder. “We will happily follow you today. We’re family, and that’s what family does.”

  Calla nods, her long black hair held tight in a perfect bun on her head. “Until the bitter end.”

  I ignore the part where they admit they will follow me and let their words be a balm against my bruised skin. The past few weeks have worn me down finer than the Zarenite and Borenite powders hanging around my neck. I link my arm around Lily’s shoulder, and she hugs me back, Calla walking over to the other side of us to join in.

  “Thank you,” I breathe into Lily’s hair. “I needed to hear that. But do me a favor and
let’s skip the bitter part.”

  Marin walks up behind us as we part, and we all turn toward the front when Rayce starts issuing his commands.

  A bright patch of the white bandage covering his shoulder peeks out from his robe, reminding me that it hasn’t been long since he was injured and he’s still compromised. Last night comes rushing back to me, the moving tent flap, the rough whisper of his voice lighting up the dark, his words. Everything about that moment tugs on my chest until it feels as though it will shatter.

  You be safe, too, Rayce.

  The ache inside me grows with every step we take toward Imperial City, sharpens as I study his black hair gleaming in the sunlight, and the graceful way he walks, the commanding set of his shoulders.

  But it doesn’t overwhelm me until I watch him lead his troops to the tiny gate tucked under the looming roofs of the Blue temple that sticks out above Imperial City’s imposing wall. Just as the guards reported, it’s nearly impossible to spot when looking straight at the wall becaust it’s tucked into one of the rounded parts where a guard tower sits. It only comes into view when you move to the side, and even then it’s hard to find, made from the same black stone as the wall it’s attached to. The only way to open the small gate, wide enough to fit about two men through it at a time, is a latch on the inside. Meaning that when they get inside, the rebels will be trapped.

  My role in this takes me up and over the large wall, to crank the main gate open and let the Varshan army sitting outside of it pour in to reinforce the rebellion’s attack on the inside. Two armies converging on the emperor’s forces should be enough to stop it completely.

  Rayce ushers in the rebellion, the bulk of the guards filing through the structure in their plain robes and wide-brimmed straw hats so they can stay hidden until the gate is open and everything devolves into war. It sickens me that it will be among innocent people, but hopefully it is the last battle Delmar has to witness for a long while.

  The other Flowers and I mount the horses provided to us so we can ride closer to the main gate. I grip the leather reins, remembering that the last time I was on horseback, Rayce could barely sit up on his own.

  The bottom of my chin brushes against the rough fabric of my robe as I look over my shoulder one last time at the gate, and my hands nearly slip. Rayce stands by himself, looking back toward me. We’re too far apart for me to make out what his eyes look like right now, but judging by the tightness of his stance, his message is clear. We’re saying the same thing. That this isn’t goodbye.

  “Rose, come on, we have to go.” Marin urges me to move, her large brown-and-white horse stamping its foot impatiently.

  Rayce proves stronger willed, turning away after another few seconds and walking into Imperial City through the gate I had to bargain my pride for. My heart and dreams for a future go with him.

  But I don’t have any more time to dwell on it. In an instant, my horse’s hooves pound against the hard, packed ground, surrounded by my four sisters. We barrel toward the entrance, wind whipping through our hair.

  Before I can settle on the task at hand and get my head focused, we come to a halt, my horse snorting its displeasure at the abrupt stop in our pace. The large rounded gate doors to Imperial City loom in the near distance, an enormous slanted roof hanging over it, gleaming golden in the sunlight. Crumbling dragons snake down either side of the curved roof, shooting their stone flames into the air. The last time I saw this side of the gates was through my little peephole sitting next to Fern as our cart bumped its way through them. The blue studded doors were thrown open so that the Garden could enter the city without hindrance. Now, they’re shut tight to keep out the Varshan army, but not for long if our mission goes well.

  We slide off our mounts into the tall grass coming up to my mid-calf, and walk up to the base of the ginormous gate, the earthy smell of mold on baking stone filling my nostrils. The sun sticks stray wisps of my hair to my neck from its place high in the bright blue sky. I lick my dry lips and turn to look at the girls lined up next to me. Marin gives me an encouraging smile, snagging her grappler.

  “Everyone remembers what we have to do?” I fight to keep my voice from being swallowed by the wind whipping around the plain.

  “We have to open the gates,” Marin says. “And let my brother and Varsha in.”

  Clover nods her agreement.

  “And not die,” Calla adds.

  Her words resound in my head, threatening to throw me off balance. I always have known that death is a possibility, but hearing her say it makes my stomach roll. All at once, I can feel their nerves as if they were my own. Even Marin’s smile looks a bit off.

  If Rayce were here, he’d know how to ease their minds, but encouraging people has never been one of my strengths. I’d read about it in one of Oren’s books, about the importance of morale. My gaze roams over each of their tight eyes, the faces of my sisters I love. They are always there for me, even when we disagree.

  “Whatever happens up there, do your best.” My voice sticks to my throat. “We all have to watch each other’s backs. Don’t let them sound an alarm. And know that I believe without a doubt that we can do this. There are no other people in the world I would rather be here with. I trust you all with my life as I hope you trust me.”

  They deserve to hear so much more than what I can give them, but it’s all I have in me and I meant every word.

  Marin slips her hand into mine and squeezes it. Calla and Lily nod, wearing matching grim expressions, and Clover stays silent at the end, although I know from yesterday that she’s paying far closer attention than I give her credit for.

  Releasing me from her grip, Marin turns her attention to the top of the towering wall in front of us. A tickle of hesitation fills my limbs as I count out our mark from five, my hands straining for a tight grasp around the stunner’s handle. When I reach one, the whizzing sound of my wire releasing fills my head, followed by four more almost in unison. The sharp grappling hooks fly up into the air, projected by the power of the stunner, and dig into the top of the wall.

  When everyone nods, I click my grappler’s trigger back and it recoils in my hands. The muscles in my arm strain to hold on as the wire pulls me up the wall. Placing my feet against the stone, I begin to walk up to keep my weight from dragging me down. The higher we go, the more the wind whips around, throwing my hair into my face. Despite what’s at stake, a smile finds its way to my lips. The feeling of flying is as familiar to my body as breathing.

  After less than a minute, the top of the wall comes into view. Tightening my grip on the grappler’s handle with my right hand, I reach out with my left, wrapping my arm around the warm stone, and pull myself up into the small slit in the wall meant for crossbows to shoot through. I land on the wide walkway in a crouch, releasing my stunner from my belt. In front of me, Marin and the others all squeeze themselves through the slits and land near me, the slanted roof of the nearest tower gate a mere hundred feet off in the distance.

  We’ve all barely stood when shouts echo out from the tower, followed quickly by the whizzing sound of three arrows whipping through the air. I jerk my body back down toward the stone as wind from the arrow ruffles my hair, and jam my stunner forward, aiming at one of the shiny soldiers I see waving his arm toward us in mid-command. His shout cuts off as my bolt finds the place between his armor, dropping him. For a moment, all I feel is the rush of knowing that right now it is us against them, that they are the ones standing against us and our goal, but the realization that I took another man’s life dawns on me slowly.

  A man with a name, with a family, with people that will mourn his loss. This soldier might not have even wanted to be here today. They are as much prisoners of the emperor as everyone else, ordered into the army by his law.

  Another arrow zips by me, forcing the thoughts from my head.

  I don’t have time for mercy, for thinking about names and faces. The Sun soldiers sure aren’t.

  The girls scatter around me like p
etals on a breeze, filling the air with flashes of green light as arrows answer back. Clover runs forward, tucking her body low as she races for the tower swifter than rushing water. Her dagger blades flash silver as she lunges for the nearest soldier, knocking him to the ground.

  I wince, hearing the clatter of armor, seeing the flash of silver and blood, but push aside that sorrow for later.

  The other girls cover me as I run after Clover, my sword singing as I release it from its sheath. She dives from the soldier she downed to the next nearest of the six remaining. A bolt from Marin drops the soldier in front of me and I twist for another man, swinging my blade low, my braid beating against my back with the force. The sharp edge collides with the tiny plates on his armor, causing white sparks to fly out.

  The soldier swings his sword down hard, trying to catch my head, but I jerk my blade up, both weapons crying out as the metal collides. The muscles in my arms strain as he pushes forward and I realize he’s a good few feet taller than me. Arlo’s training plays automatically through my movements, and instead of trying to overpower my opponent, I kick low, hitting him square in the knee.

  His leg gives out and I take my opportunity, swinging down to finish him. Crimson blood spills dark on the stone floor and covers my blade as I withdraw it. Around me, there’s only silence and the bodies of those that tried to get in the way of our mission. The adrenaline of fighting to survive begins to deplete from my veins as I stare at the blood on my blade and the realization of what we just did settles on me. And with that comes another realization that sends shivers down my spine.

  As much as I should care about their blood, be horrified by it, I find that right now, I can’t. Their deaths mean our survival. This war is changing me with every scream, every flash of a sword. One day, I might look in a mirror and truly not recognize the person staring back at me.