“I know. I just…can’t believe it’s really over. I’m worried about the others and about my brother. Have you heard anything at all about his whereabouts?”
Looking back out the window reveals a slew of people in chains. A flash of purple catches my eye, and I make out Piper’s short black hair. Seeing her here makes my treachery all the more real.
I shake my head. “There’s been no mention of him. Even the emperor doesn’t seem to know where he went.”
She sighs. “I’m not sure how you managed to strike a deal with the emperor. He isn’t exactly known for listening to anyone, especially a woman. How is it that we’re sitting here while the others are in chains?”
Her question surprises me, and I realize that she still doesn’t know who I am. Perhaps this is the same question on everyone’s mind. Before, I was terrified the Zareeni rebellion would use my right to the Varshan throne as leverage against the emperor. It’s ironic then, that in the end, I was the one who did that very thing.
After tonight, everyone will know. But Marin doesn’t deserve to find out the same way as everyone else. From the beginning, she’s been my friend. If she’s going to learn who I am, it should be from my own lips.
“About that.” My hair slides over my shoulder as I look down. Scooting around on my pillow so we’re face to face, I sit cross legged in front of her, taking both of her hands in mine. “There is something I should tell you and I should have told you a long time ago.”
She bites her bottom lip, her brow furrowing at the weight in my voice, and she won’t meet my eyes.
“I’m trying not to think the worst here, Rose. But the way you’re talking makes it seem like you did something unforgivable.”
I clear my throat. “This has been a secret I’ve kept from everyone besides Rayce. Not even Calla and Lily know.” I take a deep breath, trying to draw on a pool of courage I no longer have. “Rose isn’t my real name. My real name is Arianna Vasile. I am…the heir to the Varshan throne. That’s why the emperor accepted my terms of surrender. I promised him my hand in marriage in order to keep you all safe, and with it he will have a claim to the Varshan throne.”
She doesn’t move. Her usually expressive face stays frozen in a pale mask as my secret hangs in the air, a heavy swath around us. All I want is for her to speak. I couldn’t stand it if she decided we could no longer be friends because of something I can’t control.
“Please, say something,” I whisper. “I know I should have told you, but understand, I never told anyone really. The only people who knew were the Gardener, because he stole me when I was very young, the emperor, whom the Gardener told, Oren, and Rayce. I told Rayce before I joined the rebellion so he could understand why the emperor kept trying to steal me away and what it would cost if he did.”
My heart holds my chest hostage, pounding away like a wild thing while she continues to remain silent. The air fills with the sound of thick raindrops splattering on the windowpane.
“So you’re a princess?”
Her eyes comb over my features, almost as if it’s the first time she’s ever really looked at me. She’s hugged me maybe a hundred times at this point, but with this new information, she looks at me as if I’m a stranger.
“Yes, I guess at one point in time, I was. But I have no desire to claim my throne. I don’t want that kind of responsibility.”
“But with your claim, you could change the world. Set things right. I’m sure if we told the right people, we could make a case. The rebels will still rise up and fight.”
I shake my head. “Right now, the only thing I want is to save Rayce. You weren’t there, so you didn’t hear the emperor’s threat. If he catches a single echo of rebellion, Rayce will pay that price.”
“How do you know he won’t pay it anyway?”
My breath catches in my chest, hearing her question. There is no guarantee. All I have is the emperor’s word that Rayce will survive if I keep playing the part of the submissive little princess and say all my lines right. Spill every secret I’ve been sworn to keep, break every promise I’ve made.
“I…I don’t…”
The emperor has never proven himself to be a merciful man. Anytime he had the option to spare lives, he’s chosen against it.
A knock sounds on the door, breaking the silence that has settled over us, and I swing my head that way. Marin’s arms wrap around me, her curly hair pressing softly against my cheek.
“We’re going to figure this out together,” she whispers. “Just like we always do.”
“We are…” I say, hugging her back. “Because tonight, I’m going to kill the emperor.”
She stiffens in my grasp when the meaning of my words washes over her, pulling back to look at me with wide eyes. Placing a finger on my mouth to signal her silence, I walk over to the door to stop the banging. The tight fabric of my under robe restricts my movement, keeping my knees pressed together. It takes me longer than it should to reach the other side of the room.
Opening it a few inches, I peek my head out to see three Sun soldiers. A fourth soldier stands right in front of the door, a gloved hand poised to knock again.
Their decorative helmets block any facial features from view, so it’s impossible to tell what expressions they wear.
“What?” I ask, not bothering to hide my annoyance.
“Your presence is requested in the throne room,” the Sun soldier in front of the door says. “We’re to escort you there now.”
Something about his voice sounds vaguely familiar. Perhaps this was the same one who captured me last time I was here? I pause, staring at him closer, but his identical uniform doesn’t reveal any hints as to whether that’s true or not.
“Give us a few more moments,” I say.
“If you want to risk the emperor’s wrath, take all the time you need,” the soldier says.
Unsure whether he’s warning or threatening me, I close the door.
“How?” Marin asks.
I make my way over as she prepares the lavish robe, gathering the folds of fabric from the wooden hanger.
My voice is barely a whisper. “Tonight, when he’s on stage, I’ll take one of the guard’s swords and run him through while he’s distracted.”
“You’ll be surrounded by guards, Rose,” she whispers, her hands shaking. “They’ll kill you.”
I knew that when I told her my plan. There wasn’t even a part of me that clung on to the hope that I would survive an attempt on the emperor’s life. But hearing her say it out loud rattles me to the core. There’s still so much I want to do, so much I want to learn and experience. It’s hard to believe that my future might end here tonight. My heart hammers in my chest like it knows it might not have that many more beats left in it.
While I stay silent, she begins to wrap the three other layers of my grand robe around me. She tightens the large white-and-golden band across my waist and begins to tie the back. Each roll of fabric adds more and more weight on my shoulders until the entire outfit feels like a physical manifestation of the pressure threatening to drag me under.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to stop living now that it feels like I’ve just started. But if I don’t kill the emperor while I have a chance, Rayce will die in that cell, the Gardener will walk free and the people that bled for a new world will be stomped back into the ground. The Wilteds of this world, the ones the emperor feels he can beat down, will wither away in the ashes of a dream so beautiful and so full of color it couldn’t survive.
The thoughts swirl around in my head until it’s too loud to bear, shaping and solidifying into Rayce’s soft eyes, the way my heart flutters every time he touches me. He wanted to build a better world for everyone…for me. But I realize now that the only way for him to do that is for me to pave that path for him.
Determination weighs heavily in my gut as I take a deep breath, letting the goal root so deep inside me, we are one. I will kill the emperor and truly end the war, so that a new world can bloom.
Whatever happens afterward, whether I see it or not, I will give Rayce this chance.
I link my hands in front of me. “Perhaps, but then they’ll need someone new to take his place and there is still only one person who is eligible to inherit the throne.”
“Rayce…”
Knocking sounds on our door again.
“When the chaos begins, head down into the dungeons and release him,” I whisper.
“I’m not leaving you alone.” Marin jerks the fabric, attempting to straighten the huge bow she’s crafted and accentuating her point in the same motion. “I told you, I’ll follow you until the end.”
Reaching out, I grab her hand still clutching the bow in both of mine. “And I want you to be able to see the end of everything. You are our only hope. I can survive for a little while, but I’ll need the rebellion’s help. Go to Rayce, he’ll know what to do.”
“Whatever happens tonight, I’m going to be right behind you,” she says.
Though making a move against the emperor will probably get me killed, at least I’m not alone. If it weren’t for Marin, I’d be a mess. My hair is long and loose over my shoulders, not at all in the Delmarion fashion, but like with the Gardener, I’m not meant to be Delmarion at the celebration. My foreignness will be displayed. My tan skin looks even darker set against the white fabric, my curves highlighted with the wide cinched strip of fabric over my middle. Everything is wrong about the way I look according to their society.
Another loud series of knocks brings my gaze back to Marin and I force a smile I don’t feel on my lips.
She nods back, sadness dulling her eyes, and runs over to the door, her hair pinned up tight. Her light blue silk robe offsets her pale, creamy skin, though it isn’t nearly as lavish as mine. She looks more like a doll than I’ve ever seen before, and I can picture her clearly in her role before joining the rebellion as the dutiful daughter of a wealthy merchant.
She opens the door and gathers my train in her hands, the lead in my stomach heavy as I move toward my fate. As Oren said, a leader must face what they fear the most. I thought that was leading people. I didn’t think there was anything more terrifying than having an entire people turn to you, but as I walk for the door slowly, I realize that isn’t the case. Right now it feels easy. The thing that truly scares me is a world without Rayce in it, a world where the Gardener gets to win. I will not allow it. I will face this fear with a sword in my hand and the emperor’s blood drenching it, so Rayce never has to.
“You really shouldn’t have taken so long,” the solider from before says. “Now everything is behind schedule.”
“I don’t care about your schedule,” I say.
He might have laughed, but it’s impossible to tell from behind his helmet.
The soldiers escort us quickly down the ornate hallways, their hasty pace suggesting that they actually were on a time limit. Looking up, I realize the detailed pictures adorning the ceilings and sky-blue wooden awnings every twenty paces have been retouched, vivid colors bursting from the wood into a life of their own. The lacquered cherrywood floors shine my reflection back up at me, and gigantic elaborate vases overflow with fresh orchids, peonies, and chrysanthemums on small tables in between each awning.
It’s clear by the polished and clean state of this inner wing that this is one of the few areas of the palace regularly kept up. After a long blur of hallways, the shrill sound of Delmarion instruments floats out to greet us behind a series of twelve sets of silver-painted double doors that reach high to the ceiling several stories overhead. Blue carpets are laid across the polished wood floor like strips of river running into the throne room.
The four soldiers boxing Marin and me in move past the doors, taking us down a separate side hallway. A chorus of voices and the winding of a flute sound dull behind the thin wall revealing that this hall skirts the throne room. But the sounds of the party have nothing on the hectic thumping of my own heart. I keep my hands linked in front of me to stop them from shaking as we continue to walk.
Though soon it will be less of a celebration and more of an assassination.
Going this way, instead of through the doors meant for guests, reminds me of how I would always enter the Garden’s tent. Then they only wanted to see me when the timing was convenient for the show. Before that, I was lugged around like a prop, kept out of view of wandering eyes so I didn’t break the illusion of perfection.
Up ahead, lit by glowing sconces, stands the emperor, his back turned. The silver strands in his black hair seem to glow in the dim lighting, tied in a low ponytail at the base of his neck, and he wears an elaborate sapphire robe, threads of silver carefully woven through to depict long serpentine dragons flying down the fine silk. His hands are looped behind his back as if he had been pacing a few seconds before we saw him, and a tall, thin hat sits atop his shiny hair, adorned with shimmering white beads that catch the light.
Our footsteps reverberate down the hall and he swivels his head to glance behind his shoulder, his eyes glowing deadly in the darkness. His sun-worn face has been freshly shaven for the occasion, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth accentuated by all the shadow in the room.
“You’re late,” he says.
I don’t bother to hide the irritation in my voice. “You can’t rush perfection.”
The emperor’s gaze roams over my body, taking in every stitch on my robe for deficiencies. Once again, I am a piece of meat that he must appraise.
“Then I should see perfection,” he says. “However, it seems we will both remain disappointed.”
I grit my teeth to keep my reply to myself. My entourage comes to a stop a few feet away from him. He turns around, somehow managing to make movement in his long robe look easy. Marin drops my train in a wave of cool air.
“There is no changing you, for better or worse, you are what you are.” It’s clear how much of a disappointment I am by his tone. “And after tonight, all that you are will belong to the Delmarion Empire. You will either be looked at as the most influential woman in all of Delmarion history or the one that brought ruin to us. To want anything but the first means to ensure my own failure, but I can’t help but feel you are the second.”
The fact that none of what he says will matter in a few short minutes doesn’t stop the anger from coursing through my veins. I grip the layers of silk cascading long past my hand and keep my gaze averted. At least it makes what I have to do next easier. I can’t think about the man that helped Rayce turn a caterpillar into a butterfly, who seemed to actually mourn the loss of Oren. I have to focus on the man who carved into his nephew’s face without second thought and who burned down an entire town because, to him, it was an acceptable loss.
The emperor’s sharp eyes cast me off and then he flicks his hand toward the wall. The two soldiers closest to him open a small door that was hidden, letting in the blaring sound of string instruments and whispered chatter that all comes to a halt once the emperor takes a step out onto the raised stage where his large throne sits. From my place, I get a clear view of the ornate back of his throne, the flowing pattern carved in silver somewhat familiar. My eyes widen realizing that same windlike pattern graces Rayce’s arm. He must have used the Delmarion throne as inspiration for his Zarenite tattoo.
The soldier who spoke to me places a hand on my back, scooting me forward toward the small crack left open in the wall, spilling a slice of warm orange light over my robe so that the golden threads shimmer.
“You’ll need to be on time for when the emperor introduces you,” he says. “Hopefully you can manage that, at least.”
The thin wall dulls the emperor’s voice, but I can still hear the roar of it, booming above all else. His threats from the past few days swirl around in my head. If I mess up, someone I care for will pay the price, just like in the Garden. This is just a larger version of the life I left behind. The palace may be much grander and more beautiful than my cart, but I’m still trapped. A cage is still a cage, no matter the size.
“Chin up, girl,” the soldier says, walking in front of me to grab the door as applause fills the air. I make note of the hilt of his sword, fastened to his side. I’ll have to find a way to get it. “You just need to find out the best way to remind them why you’re useful.”
That sounds just like what Arlo said before he…
I look away from the sword, momentarily forgetting my plan, and try to peel back the armor of the man before me. But I’m blinded as that slash of warm light turns into an entire world bathed in it. Someone behind me slaps me forward before I can respond, nearly causing me to topple headfirst into the throne room.
For a moment, there is nothing but dazzling white light. I can barely hear my own thoughts over the roar of clapping that fills every available space in my head. I hold up my hand against the bright light, trying to see through it, and it begins to lessen the longer I’m in it.
Could that have really been Arlo? My heart stops for a beat. Because if it was him, then perhaps there is a reason to rejoice.
A rough hand locks around my elbow before I can process what Arlo’s presence might mean. I turn to see the emperor at my side, his strong fingers clawing at the sleeve of my robe like he aims to tear it off. He yanks me forward into the opulence of Delmar’s throne room, revealing it to me as hundreds of eyes rake over my body. But he also reveals something I was too busy sizing him up to see before, something that will make my task so much easier. A long white scabbard suspended from a thick band around his waist, an elaborate hilt sticking out with a black gemstone set in it. The same sword he used to kill Oren and that he pointed at Rayce on the battlefield.
The same sword I will use to stop his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The throne room glitters like something straight out of the Gardener’s mind, from the immensely detailed tiled ceiling, with every single palm-sized tile mimicking the sky detailed with silver dragons and inlaid with sparkling diamonds, to the streams of tiny paper flowers dangling from the ceiling resembling the heavy laden cherry blossom branches outside. These flower arrangements drip white and purple from the sky, some so long they sag to the ground like a waterfall of petals. Dotted in between them are tiny glass bubbles suspending flickering flames that lend warmth to the room.
War of the Wilted Page 27