War of the Wilted

By Amber Mitchell

Like flowers denied water, people are wilting under the emperor's tyranny.

Rose will not rest until the Gardener is dead. But there are bigger battles to fight, and Rayce—leader of the rebellion and the only man Rose has ever loved—believes their best chance at winning the war is to join forces with her sworn enemy.

Saving innocent people is more important than her quest for revenge. But their new ally can’t be trusted—and he knows her darkest secret. One betrayal could leave the war and Rayce’s life hanging in the balance, and Rose will need to make the ultimate sacrifice to save them all.

The Garden of Thorns series is best enjoyed in order:
Book #1 Garden of Thorns
Book #2 War of the Wilted
Book #3 Roots of Ruin

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Oct 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781640636804

Book preview

To Ashley, we might have been born flightless, but we have found other ways to soar.

Chapter One

The stars burn cold and bright, strewn across the charcoal sky of the Zaina Desert…the sands of my home. I breathe in deep, filling my lungs with the clean, untouched air, and try to forget that I’ve crossed the Blue Gate into Varsha and traversed these sacred lands with a small pack of rebel Delmarions who know nothing of its splendor or beauty. Forget that I’ve already given away many of the secrets that have helped my people survive in the harsh desert and protected Varsha from attack by Delmar for generations. If any of the ways we map the endless sands or conserve water fall back to the emperor’s ears, then the long-stalled war between Delmar and Varsha is as good as won, cementing his place in the eyes of the people and snuffing out the rebellion’s spark once and for all.

But I guess it’s a fair trade, since they’ve come all this way to keep the secret of my survival from reaching the Varshan traitor king’s ears. Trading secrets for secrets. It’s all my life has ever amounted to.

If Zareen’s intel is correct and the emperor is really trying for a temporary treaty with Varsha to crush the rebellion by offering up my head, then there isn’t time to waste. If the traitor king finds out that I survived when he betrayed my father and overthrew him, my days would slip like sand through my fingers. Which means that the caravan rebels spotted a few days ago leaving with the emperor’s letter cannot be allowed to reach Varsha, or it could mean the end of the rebellion as well as my life. Even if I was able to convince the king that I’m not interested in the throne, that I would never be interested in it, it wouldn’t matter anyway. I still plan on killing him as payment for my father’s life. I grit my teeth. The Delmarion emperor, too. My list has grown.

My heart pounds against my rib cage as the thought settles on my shoulders, its weight threatening to crush me.

If you keep frowning like that, your face will get stuck that way, says a familiar male voice behind me. And that would be a shame, because you’re so beautiful when you smile.

Rayce’s voice calms my nerves, and I turn toward him. Before I’m even able to swivel around fully, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me to him. In the several months we’ve known each other, I’ve barely ever seen him out of his long black vest and dark pants, but at my suggestion, all the Zareeni guards have traded their dark clothing for light tans and whites so they can better blend into the sands. Rayce is no exception, his ivory robe molded to his well-sculpted arms and chest. His dark hair falls over his forehead, begging my fingers to run through it, and his brown eyes sparkle with mischief, burning bright like the stars above our heads.

I wonder if things had gone according to plan and we had been married, before my father was murdered by the usurper that now sits on the throne, if he would have dressed in the colors of the desert more often. If the fabric of my home would look like it was woven into his blood. But if that dream were true, then we would both also be ruling by now, and that is not the life I see for myself. Perhaps a soldier or owning a small bookshop, but not a queen. The strain of leading people always lies heavily on Rayce’s shoulders like a cloak, one I’m not strong enough to wear.

Despite my nerves, a smile slides onto my lips. You know that’s just something mothers tell their daughters to keep them from frowning too much, right?

He shrugs, resting his chin on the top of my head. I let out a sigh, my breath a puff of steam, and snuggle closer to his warmth.

It got you to smile and that’s all I was aiming for. His stubble tickles my skin. We don’t have much time before we need to get into position, but I wanted to see you. Once the caravan arrives, things are going to get dangerous, quickly.

Though I could listen to him speak all day, his words sink into my chest like sand piling on top of my body, and fear clouds the edges of my mind. I peek around his shoulder and toward the small squadron handpicked by Rayce and Arlo, his second in command, for this delicate mission.

A man to our right checks the barrel of his stunner, making sure it’s filled with the green powdered mineral called Zarenite that makes the weapons fire. It reacts to his body heat, making the tattoo on his arm glow bright green in the night air. Farther out, Arlo talks rapidly in hushed tones, with his hands moving like he’s trying to conduct the air, and Marin, his sister and the first person to help me believe in the rebellion, politely nods, her dark-blond curls bouncing. When she notices me staring, she sticks out her tongue.

All around us, the other dozen guards talk quietly among themselves, but tension shows in their nervous fidgeting, the tightness in their eyes. They’re out of their element, used to fighting in the forests, not the deserts.

But so are the Delmarion Sun soldiers we’re waiting to ambush, I remind myself.

And you’re sure that the caravan came through the Blue Gate? I ask Rayce again, for what must be the hundredth time.

Positive, he repeats, not a trace of impatience in his voice. I saw it with my own eyes. He pulls away just slightly so we are staring at each other. The warmth of his body lingers against my skin, but the chill in the air fights to replace it. I’m taking every precaution. If my uncle succeeds in a treaty with Varsha, it won’t be long before he has the resources to find the rebellion, and that will mean the end for us.

I don’t trust my voice not to shake when I speak, so I nod instead.

He cups my cheek, his callused fingers rubbing rough against my face. "I also know how hard you’ve worked to keep your own secrets, and I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power not to let either of those men hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you, if I can help it. He cracks a smile. Judging by how proficient you’ve become with a sword these past few months, I’m pretty sure you won’t need much help from me, though."

I let out a raspy breath. We’re about to put all of those new skills to the test.

If the ambush works like it should, there won’t be much of a reason to fight. You remember your part in this?

Yes. I need to recover and destroy the scroll before either side can read it.

You have to, he corrects, his voice growing softer. He scoots closer until our faces are inches apart. We’re taking a huge risk by only telling the others a half truth. It keeps your secret safe, but it also means that no one can help you with your part. I’ve alerted Arlo, but—

I know. I touch the back of his hand. Trust me, I can do this. I’ll find the emperor’s decree and destroy it.

Please, just stay safe, he says, resting his forehead against mine. Everything else is important, but I’ll work out what I need to as long as you stay—

A spray of sand cascades from the ground between a pair of towering sand dunes. After setting up here, we buried a long rope fifty feet back and placed scouts in ten-foot intervals along it. As soon as the first one caught sight of the caravan, he yanked it up from the thin layer of sand covering it to alert us that our target was in range, without having to speak a word. An old Varshan trick I told the Zareeni rebellion about before we left. Sand writing is the best way to send silent messages in the desert where the wind flings voices flying farther than they should reach. It’s how our people have managed to defeat the Delmarions every single time they tried to march on our capital.

The scouts have spotted the caravan a couple hundred yards off, Rayce says in a loud whisper. Quickly, into your positions! He turns back to me. Remember what we talked about.

He gives me a quick kiss on the top of my head and darts off for a group on the opposite dune as me.

It’s almost time.

Shaking out my hands, I take a deep breath, aiming to calm my racing heart. To keep my mind off what’s about to happen, I grab the altered stunner at my side, my fingers so slick with sweat, they slip off the handle. I rub them against my pant leg before trying again. I readjust my grip on the instrument I’ve dubbed a grappler and hold the machine up to examine the thin silver wire strung around the back like an endless thread of spider silk. A thick, sharp hook sits in the barrel, waiting to be shot outward the moment I pull the trigger.

Calla and Lily, former Flowers that danced with me when we were all slaves in the Garden, walk up beside me, their feet moving in unison. Both girls wear their long, raven-colored hair in matching ponytails, and if it wasn’t for the tiny beauty mark on the left side of Calla’s hairline, I’d never be able to tell them apart.

The rebels tried to put us on the opposite side of you, Calla says.

But we told them they couldn’t, Lily adds. We don’t answer to them.

They’re providing us food and shelter, I say. We should at least try to respect their wishes.

Clover, another of my sisters from the Garden, walks up behind them. I can only catch the top of her head as the twins have a few inches on her.

We take our orders from you, Clover says, her voice raspy. Her long dark hair flows in front of her face, barring me from seeing what she’s actually thinking.

No, I say, forcing my tone steady. I’m not the one giving orders. I don’t know the first thing about leading people.

I’ve told them this more times than there are grains of sand surrounding us, and my words still haven’t sunk in. Though they’ve been looking to me for guidance, I’ll never take charge of them. Accepting that responsibility means their lives are in my hands, lives I cannot possibly hope to spare from the ruthlessness of war. If Rayce can’t save all of his own people being as skilled as he is, I have no hope.

I must admit, though, having my sisters near me makes it easier to breathe.

Arlo runs over, but his gaze remains locked on Marin, who has gathered around Rayce along with the rest of the troops on that side.

Everyone, pack in tight, he says. We only have one shot to get this right.

Arlo and I move to the nearest sand dune and lie flat on the ground. He unholsters a pair of stunners, setting one in front of him, and wields his grappler in his left hand.

I shift in the chilly sand and feel it moving to conform to my body as I lie on my stomach, grains slipping into my robe’s long sleeves. The hilt of my grappler feels solid between my hands, and I keep it trained on the only space between two sand dunes that is big enough to fit the Delmarion caravan.

Puffs of gray clouds smear over the moonlight staining my world in a sickly blue color, making it nearly impossible to see much farther than the sand mountain’s base glittering in the dim light beside me. If I can’t see much lying still, our target won’t be able to see anything while they’re moving.

When the fighting starts, stay near me, Arlo says. His gaze remains trained on the sand dunes. Whatever happens. That’s an order. I’m not losing you.

Even now, the memory of him screaming my name as guards pulled him away a few months ago when we’d infiltrated the underground prison in Imperial City echoes through my head. Despite my nerves, his concern makes me smile.

You won’t, I say, suddenly very fascinated by the grappler in front of me. I trust you.

He touches my forearm in thanks, gently clasping it before letting me go. There was a time when I would freeze under that type of touch, especially from a man, but months with the rebellion has begun to reshape the way I think about friendship.

It has reshaped the way I think about almost everything, and that has so much to do with the man who would normally be right beside the rest of us, who gave his life so that my sisters and I could have our freedom.

Oren.

My fingers wander to the thin golden chain around my neck, and I feel the comforting crunch of parchment against my fingertip. Even though I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of me desecrating the book he wrote, I ripped out the page he’d bookmarked for me, the one that finally let me accept my own destiny, folded it up and tucked it into a tiny leather pouch around a spare bit of chain Rayce lent me. It doesn’t come close to the comfort Oren’s presence always gave me, but it’s one of the last pieces left of him. A surge of strength rushes through me.

Right on time, too.

As I let out my held breath, a horse whinny pierces the air and the sounds of men shouting at each other fill the clearing.

On the other side, the remaining Zareeni rebels mirror us as they clutch grapplers in their hands. My heart beats wildly, trying to break free as I run through the plan one last time.

This has to go right, we only have one shot. Otherwise, Rayce risked his troops, we crossed the Blue Gate, and I gave away the survival secrets of my people…all for nothing.

Panic pumps chilly through my veins, threatening to freeze me in place, until my eyes find a pair of dark ones that seem to know me better than I know myself twenty yards away, piercing through my confident mask into the turmoil that rages inside.

I’ve got you, Rayce mouths, a smile slipping on to his face. It’s the same one I saw the first time we met, the one that I knew would get me in trouble, and here I am, facing danger once again with him.

Despite my sweaty palms and the worry that all of this could come crashing down, a calm washes over me. This is the man who keeps his promises. The man who loves me. I nod and turn my attention back to the space between the towering sand dunes, just as two black horses come into view.

Chapter Two

The entire world halts except for the twin horses pulling the caravan through the gap between those two sand dunes in slow motion. Worry for what could go wrong, fear for my fellow Flowers, fades to the back of my mind as our target comes into view. Even my lungs forget how to take in air, all of my energy focused on Arlo as I wait for him to give the silent signal for us to begin. I throw myself into this state of hyperawareness, anything to quiet the all-consuming fear that if anything goes wrong, my secret could be revealed, the two kingdoms could unite to stamp out the rebellion, or one of my friends could die in this struggle.

Come on, Arlo, let’s start this already, before my heart explodes.

As if he can hear my pleading, he moves his finger in a tight circle and my own presses down on the trigger before my brain can catch up. The contraption in my hand kicks back in reaction, the hilt burying itself in a few inches of sand. All around me other silver threads shoot out, glistening like a spiderweb, grappling hooks embedding into the wooden side of the Delmarion cart with loud thwacks.

The two horses rear up, spooked by our sudden appearance. But they aren’t nearly as scared sounding as the chorus of shouts coming from inside the cart. With his free hand, Arlo takes aim, a green bolt shooting out from the tip of his stunner. His shot finds its target, and the soldier holding the horse’s reins drops them as he goes limp.

Somewhere near a dozen Sun soldiers pour out of the white-and-blue covered cart, clutching long swords as their helmeted heads look about wildly between our two groups of rebels. I push up and scurry to tie my grappler around a boulder to keep the cart from moving alongside the other rebels. Though I can’t see through the cart to the other side, I know Marin and the others are doing the exact same thing, rooting the cart in place.

Pulling the rope taut, I swing back around just in time to catch a Sun soldier’s blade coming straight for my neck. My hand automatically reaches for my own sword strapped to my side as I duck, but I’m not skilled enough to slow these moments down like I can when I aerial dance.

The wind from the blade swinging brushes against my skin, but the man falls forward without ever making contact. I search for what incapacitated him and follow the barrel of a smoking stunner up to Rayce’s smirking mouth. He tips his head in my direction, his hair falling over his eyes, and swivels around to parry an oncoming Sun soldier with his sword.

All around me, the sounds of fighting fill the night—men grunting, shouts of pain as a blow lands, the sharp zip of stunner bolts—but I do my best to block it out, letting the soldiers and guards alike fade into the background. My gaze falls back on the caravan just as a Sun soldier slips out of the covered portion of the cart, shielding a scroll with his arm.

Moonlight illuminates the Delmarion emperor’s blue seal holding the envelope closed. That’s the letter we’re here for.

The soldier takes off east, toward Varsha, stumbling in a spray of sand to avoid the fighting surrounding him. He lurches forward, scrambling in my direction, eyes set on the horizon behind me. If he disappears into the night, all hope is lost. I won’t let the emperor win or endanger the rebellion…and I can’t let the people lying motionless in the sand be felled in vain. I’d rather die.

The sand slips underneath my feet as I sprint in the same direction as the soldier, keeping pace with him. He rushes for a large sand dune farther away from the fighting, his armor glinting in the moonlight like a beacon. The desert air picks up around me, Zaina herself urging me onward. This man clutches my entire life in his arms.

I pump my legs harder, swerving around a rebel and soldier’s swords clashing mid-battle. The screech of blades colliding fills my ears, but I keep my focus on the retreating soldier carrying a package meant for the Varshan king.

The rustle of sand shifting behind me signals that another person has fallen.

Please don’t let it be Rayce.

Fear for my fellow rebels urges me on faster. The soldier glances over his shoulder, and his eyes widen as he realizes I’m trailing him. This is the one arena where the Delmarions won’t be able to match me. The corners of my mouth tilt up as he climbs the large dune in front of him with a jumping start. It would be almost funny if he wasn’t someone that could potentially ruin my life.

As he lands a few feet up the mound, he sinks up to his calves and sand spills free from the pile. He tries to move forward, wrenching his boot up from underneath only to slip farther into the mound. Realizing his mistake, he spins around and jumps out. But this momentary lapse in his judgment gives me all the time I need.

The second his feet hit the ground, I lunge, angling my body to get the most distance I can, and collide with him. For a second, we’re both standing upright and I can see the fear in his brown eyes as he begins to tip over. Then we’re tumbling downward, a tangled ball of arms and legs scrambling for the same thing.

The emperor’s scroll looses from his armor and soars through the air, sticking into the dune ahead of us. He lands with a thud and I crash on top of him, letting him break my fall. I push off his stomach, jumping for the scroll. His arms wrap around my waist and he yanks me down on top of him again, his muscles solid like iron around my back. The small plates of his metal armor dig into my skin, leaving the scaly pattern pressed onto my flesh.

Let me go! I gasp, jutting my elbow into his face.

I reach down for the stunner still attached to my belt when he flips to the right, throwing all of his weight on top of me as he slams me into the ground. Air rushes out of crushed lungs and white spots flit around my vision, blocking out the stars above. He sits up, pinning my hand to my side, and removes a dagger attached to his belt. He holds it up in the air, filling my entire world with the edge of that blade. I dig my free hand into the sand, balling it into a fist.

And then the knife comes down, slicing through the air with ferocious hunger, aimed for my heart. I wrench up my free hand, throwing the grains of sand I’d grabbed into his face, and twist to get out of the way of the knife.

Sharp pain blossoms from my left shoulder where the blade plunges through my flesh easier than if it were water, but at least he misses my heart. Not that it’s much consolation as tears fill my eyes. He growls in frustration, clawing with one hand at his eyes, and blood spills hot onto my robe as he pulls the blade free. A fresh wave of agony overtakes me and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. He won’t hear me scream. No enemy of mine will ever get the pleasure of knowing he hurt me again, not if I can help it.

I clench my eyes closed as a wave of dizziness crashes over me and fight to stay aware. Focus on the pain but don’t give into it. Not when the soldier’s scrubbing at his eyes desperately.

Mustering up whatever strength I have left, I kick my feet forward, making contact with the back of his head, and use the momentum to sit up. The knife fumbles from his hand a few inches away from us. I dive for it, clenching my teeth as I reach my left hand forward, my shoulder stretching the gash open. My vision grays, but I snap back to reality as the man’s crushing weight smothers me again, sending needlelike pain rolling through my body.

My fingertips brush the cold blade as he reaches to pry my arm back, and with no other choice, I wrap them around the sharp edge, feeling it bite into my flesh for a second time. The soldier squeezes my arm like he’s determined to break the bone underneath, trying to force me to drop it. I tuck into the sand, spinning the blade around in my hand. The silver metal now permanently stained red with my blood.

Gritting my teeth against the fresh pain that surges through me, I flip over, sand crunching against my open wound, and stab upward with everything I have, right into his neck. Warm blood splatters from the hilt into my face as I pull it out and stab again. I watch in horror as realization dawns in the man’s eyes, turning from determination to fear to nothingness.

His body goes limp, his forehead cracking my chin as he slumps over lifeless on top of me. I breathe through my nose as my heart rattles against my chest. Everything in me hums with pain, with adrenaline coursing through my veins, but a fresher emotion wars to take the place of everything else.

I just…I just killed a man.

The weight of my action presses on me as heavily as his corpse. Tears stream down my cheeks as I slide out from under him, reliving the second his eyes widened just slightly as he realized he was dying. I know my sword has sliced through others before this, but I’ve never actually watched the moment their soul returned to Yun or whoever it is that lays them to rest. My wound throbs as I stumble to my feet.

Deep breaths, Rose. Take a deep breath.

Using the back of my good hand, I swipe the tears running down my cheeks and notice that my shaking palms are covered in blood. My stomach twists at the sight and I have to bend over to keep my food down, sucking in air through my nose.

I can’t crumple under this burden. The entire rebellion is counting on me to complete my mission, and finishing what we came here to do is the only way to stall this war long enough to give the rebellion a fighting chance.

My gaze falls on the sealed parchment sticking out of the sand, and I force my body to move to it. Every step causes my shoulder to pulse with pain, but I keep at it, stopping just in front of the yellowing parchment that reveals who I am. The sand around it sparkles like blue glitter in the moonlight, beckoning me closer. I reach out my blood-soaked hand and grasp the clean surface, staining the paper that crinkles in my fingers.

The emperor’s seal, a swirling dragon pressed into the blue wax, mocks me as I stare down at it. Using my teeth, I rip open the parchment, my stomach rolling as I see the emperor’s familiar handwriting in neat lines scrawling across the page. I find my name, see him not only confirming my whereabouts but also offering a temporary truce between the nations if Varsha will assist him in locating and squashing the rebellion… All of our fears inked onto a single scroll signing our deaths should Varsha agree.

And in the same neat script at the bottom of the page rests the signature of the man who murdered Oren, who welcomed the Gardener and his treacherous show with open arms, and who nearly stole Rayce away from me with a well-placed dagger.

I snarl down at Galon Sun’s name as my shoulder screams in protest, and ball up the page in my hand.

Retrieving another invention the rebellion created from my pocket, I click the trigger on the flicker and watch as fire shoots from the tip, burning away this desperate attempt the emperor made at securing allies. Flame eats through the balled paper, turning it to ash in my palm. The desert breeze steals the ashes, scattering them into a stretching chasm of sand where they won’t be able to hurt anyone.

Relief floods my veins as my portion of this mission concludes, and I smile, but it’s short lived. Pain pulses down my arm, blurring the edges of my vision. The wound stains my shirt dark with blood and I grit my teeth. If it isn’t treated soon, I have no idea how I’m going to stay conscious enough to lead the rebels back through the desert, and Varshans know that staying exposed to the sun and sand too long will turn Zaina into a death trap.

Chapter Three

My feet drag through the sand and I steel myself against the pain of moving, keeping my good hand pressed tightly on the knife wound in my shoulder. To my right, the sounds of fighting have slowed down, but my mind can’t expend the effort of turning my head to see how the tides of battle have ebbed. Instead, my gaze stays focused on a dim blue glow about forty yards off.

By the time a Varshan child turns five, they’re taught the tricks the Zaina Desert will play on a sunbaked mind, but they are also given the knowledge to survive: and one of the oldest secrets passed down is the desert rose. The flower-shaped crystal used to hold a beauty for me like no other, until the Gardener claimed me as his and forever ruined its enchantment.

But my time in the Garden hasn’t caused me to forget the rumors surrounding its healing properties, so I head for the dim blue light like a sunflower leaning toward the sun. The closer I move, the colder the air grows, sending shivers all down my body and causing the hairs on my arms to stand at end. My shaking knees give out a few paces away from the small patch of desert rose, and I crawl the last few inches to reach the glowing blue flowers of my homeland.

The long thin crystals jut up, spreading out into petal-like clusters at the top that imitate a rose. As I brush my finger against the edge of the mineral, a blast of cold shoots up, spreading through my body. Only the place on my arm where Zarenite is tattooed into my skin remains warm. The hard surface resembles the tip of a knife, and my blood smears onto the crystal, clouding it. Or maybe it’s the soldier’s blood. At this moment, they’re one and the same.

Summoning what’s left of my strength, I try to break off the piece between my fingers. My arm underneath me gives out and I fall face forward into the sand. My shoulder shrieks in protest as sand scrapes against my broken flesh, and my toes curl as blistering pain pours through my body.

Is this it? Will I survive an assassination attempt in Varsha, the harsh conditions of the Garden, and facing the Delmarion emperor twice, only to die here after finally finding a purpose? Will my quest to avenge my father and Oren end, floating away like ashes on the

Reviews for War of the Wilted

[Sasha Johnson · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a fun, quick-paced story that you will not disappoint. It’s a fun book to share with a special friend. ... If you have some great stories like this one, you can publish it on Novel Star, just submit your story to [e-mail] or [e-mail]