Roots of Ruin

By Amber Mitchell

They did the impossible, but their problems are far from over…

After freeing the Delmarion empire, Rose and Rayce must go to Varsha, the desert home Rose fled when she was a child—the country she’s meant to rule.

Rayce is the new emperor of Delmar, Varsha’s longtime enemy, but that won’t stop him from assisting the girl he loves. Armed with the brute force of Rayce’s military, Rose sets out to free her people from the oppressive rule of the usurper king who killed her father.

But even if they win, how can she be queen to her homeland and in love with the man ruling its bitter enemy? With her loyalties split between heart and crown, Rose must find a way to do the impossible again…unite two kingdoms at war, or sacrifice half of herself to save the other.

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: Aug 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649370020

Book preview

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To my Grandma, whose love of books fostered my love of books.

Chapter One

No matter how many times I run as far and as fast as I can, until my blood burns through my veins and my lungs constrict in pain, I will never grow tired of being free.

Ironically, though, today my goal is to trap another being. While I was once the prey, now I am the hunter.

The thick forest treetops rush by in a blur as I follow the pounding echo of soldiers’ boots from high above them. Raindrops leak through the leaves, soaking my robes down to my skin and hindering my view of the chaos on the ground. I chart every soldier as they hurry along, each trying to guide the pack of boars we pursue.

A flash of grayish-brown peeks through the thin birches that surround Imperial City, pulling my attention. My gaze zones in on the flash, and I catch another and another, then a glistening ivory tusk. Guttural growling rumbles in time with our hurried footsteps, and the air feels electric, like I’m back on the battlefield.

I’ve never seen a boar up close, but I will today, if everything goes well. And it has to go well or our failure will reflect on Rayce. A new emperor must produce a wild boar he caught for his coronation night as a gift to his subjects, or they will view it as the gods’ disapproval of Rayce’s ascension.

I don’t understand this tradition, and I hate how dangerous it is, but after seeing all the color drain from his cheeks in the last ten hours as we searched for a pack of wild boars without success, I’ve come to realize the importance of it. This single day will set up his entire reign, which is why he hand-selected fifteen of his best soldiers to accompany us, as well as Arlo, his right hand, Marin, Arlo’s sister and a scout, and their mother, Commander Darra Shing.

To be honest, I wish he’d chosen either Marin or Darra but not both. Ever since Marin found out that her mother was living in the neighboring country of Varsha all these years and in contact with her brother Arlo, even though she had been led to believe her parents were dead, she’s not been friendly with either of them. Not that I blame her. But it’s created tension that we could do without on a day like today.

Marin would be furious if she ever found out that I sympathized with her mother, but my feelings toward Darra are a little more complex. We are similar, Darra and I, both thrown into lands we weren’t from and forced to adapt. Without her and the small squadron of Varshan soldiers she brought here, we might not have succeeded in overthrowing Rayce’s uncle, the previous Emperor of Delmar, in our war to free the empire, and Rayce wouldn’t have been able to claim his right to the crown. We owe Varsha, and Darra in particular, for the prosperity that’s blossomed in Delmar the past few months.

At the sight of an entire pack of wild boars, the tension in every face lessens, weapons gripped tighter and at the ready, and a sense of calm comes over the small pack of hunters, showing in the lightness of their step. And here I thought killing the creature would be the hard part.

The tightness in my chest loosens a fraction, and I touch two fingers to my lips in silent thanks. Prayers go up to whichever of the gods are listening, but I’d prefer to give credit for this stroke of good luck to Oren, Rayce’s closest advisor, father figure, and the man who sacrificed his life so that this moment could even happen. I can almost feel his patient gaze looking down on this moment tucked away deep in the forest.

The taste of rot from wet foliage crunching below fills my mouth as I breathe in heavily, keeping time with the hunting party. Rayce moves beneath me like my own shadow, his long black hair slicked back by the rain and held tight in a bun on top of his head. His sharp gaze lies on our prize, a pack of boars that runs up ahead of us, trampling earth under hooves.

His form-fitting dark green robe clings to his lean chest, and water drips down the profile of his determined face, making its way over the bumpy scar that runs from his eyebrow all the way down his cheek. It’s been far too long since my fingers have been allowed to trace the mark he wears as a badge of honor.

Three months and eight days to be exact. My skin craves his as desperately as a flower craves water. Rayce has always been my sunlight, the thing that makes me whole.

But ever since I saved his life and damned him at the same time by mixing Borenite, a glowing blue mineral from my homeland that was supposed to heal him, with the Zarenite tattooed into his body, it causes him to go feral every time we touch. A brush from my fingertips brings out the monster buried inside him, and only when I touch him again can I silence it.

I am Delmar’s worst enemy and only savior all wrapped into one. Even though Rayce tried to ignore the toxin now spreading through every one of our touches, it was ultimately agreed upon that until Piper can produce a cure, we need to keep our space. But how can a heart keep beating if it is wrenched from the cavity inside one’s chest? It feels like ages since Rayce’s lips have kissed mine, and the temptation to break our promise grows stronger every time he draws near.

Perhaps that’s why we can never find a moment to ourselves anymore.

Gritting my teeth, I touch the vial of Borenite sitting next to the one of Zarenite vials hanging from my necklace. Though Delmarian soldiers only carry a spare vial of ground Zarenite in case they need to refill their stunner, I have both. Borenite’s healing properties are useful—at least, they are for me. I spent the first half of my life around one mineral and the other half around the second, growing immune to the dangerous effects of mixing both.

Faster now! Rayce yells, strain tightening his voice.

His short command snaps me back to attention, gripping my grappler hilts tighter in each hand. Growls fly at Rayce’s words as if the boars can understand them, too, and the hunt is on.

Keep a tight formation! Arlo yells from the rear of the group, his short light-brown hair sticking to his face and causing his usually neatly trimmed goatee to appear straggly.

Their words stir everyone else forward, but I stop. Aiming the grappler in my right hand for a sturdy-looking tree branch up ahead, I click the trigger and feel the kickback as the three-pronged hook rockets forward. Another click upward and wire as thin as spider’s silk begins to retract, pulling me from the branch I was perched on.

Wind and rain whip across my skin in a flurry of cold, stinging my already tired eyes, but I focus on looking down. About twelve feet below, the brown-gray tops of the stout beasts we’re pursuing bob around the birch trunks like giant boulders with legs. I let out a long, loud whistle to alert the hunting party as the pack veers left. I glance back up, aiming the grappler in my left hand for a tree branch farther out. The hook flies toward its intended target, lifting me even higher into the air.

My momentum doubles as both wires try to reel me in, and I click the trigger of the first grappler all the way up. The wire goes slack as the hook retracts its spikes and falls loose, leaving me with only one now.

Shouts ring up from below, and arrows race one another through the thin trees. Arlo argued that incorporating stunners into the hunt would ensure victory, but Rayce insisted they stick with the traditional bow and arrow that every other emperor had used before him. Something about honoring the past.

We rush swiftly through the forest, the boars’ growls and the soldiers’ shouts filling in the spaces the rain can’t. My blood flows hot and excited through my veins, spurring me on. My grappler moves me from tree branch to tree branch, while I whistle out the direction of the pack. Once for left and twice for right.

Though I don’t have a bow, my job is just as important. I’m the hunt’s eyes, and one wrong move will give the boars enough time to escape.

Up ahead, I see the rocky start of the Shulin mountain range and a decent spacing among the trees. I’m surprised we’re so far out. Every time we went back to the rebel base after another unsuccessful hunt, we’d go northwest the next day, but this time we head east.

This is the perfect place to surround the pack and pick off a boar for the ceremonial dinner tomorrow night. I let out a quick, loud whistle, causing the party to turn more eastward. Arrows fly, low enough not to pose a threat to me, but still make the boars squeal as the soldiers lead the pack in the right direction.

The hunting party races forward until the boars near the edge of the mountain, and with nowhere else to go, the beasts slam to a panicked halt, scattering like dropped stones.

Soldiers fan out to surround them, bows taut as they shoot their prey. I perch on a nearby tree branch, right above Rayce, and watch the hunt below. Though I’ve become good at fighting, I’m perfectly content just observing as they collectively take aim at the largest boar in the pack—a big, ruthless, gray-furred thing. There are plenty of scars on its body where hunters have tried to get the better of it before, but judging by the sharp points of his tusks, it’s clear why it still stands tall.

Rayce moves forward on swift feet, letting loose an arrow at the monstrous beast. It squeals as the arrow finds its mark, and the boar disappears behind a thick patch of trees.

Keep your eyes sharp! Arlo shouts. Let the Shogun have the final blow!

Several soldiers rush into the tree patch, attempting to scare the creature out.

A wild snarl tears through the trees to our right. The gigantic beast barrels forward faster than I can blink, its tusks nearly as thick as the birch trunks surrounding us. I’m transfixed at the sheer size of it, watching every muscle ripple under its rain-slicked fur.

It whips its head back and forth in a powerful display as it rushes forward, and just as I wonder what it’s doing, I realize that its motions are a warning of the murder it’s about to commit. And the target is Rayce.

He stands his ground, nocking an arrow with swift hands even as the wild beast comes crashing toward him. The bowstring thwacks as the arrow flies true, landing in the boar’s gut. Another arrow hits from the side, and another, and another. Arlo lines up a perfect shot, hitting the creature right in the meaty part of its shoulder, while Darra’s arrow lands in the boar’s cheek.

Dark blood flows freely down the beast’s body, and still it charges as if drawn by some supernatural force.

Rayce strings another arrow, his hands moving as if in slow motion. The rain stops, the boar stops, my own breathing stops. Only Rayce possesses the power to move, carefully aiming his shot for the large head. He takes in a sharp breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, and lets his arrow fly once more.

The boar is only twenty feet away now. Rayce’s arrow finds its mark, a killing blow right to the chest where the creature’s heart should lurk, but this otherworldly boar keeps charging for him, destined to collide with its target no matter the cost.

If Rayce dies on this hunt, everything we bled for will have been for nothing. The future we are still fighting for will vanish. He starts to load another arrow, though it’s clear he won’t be able to shoot in time. Shouts ring out all around, urging him to run, but he doesn’t move, locked in a battle to the death for some ridiculous, outdated custom. Arlo runs toward Rayce, but he’ll never beat the boar.

Everything inside me screams, and I jerk forward, intent to put myself between the beast and the man.

Princess, don’t even think about it! Darra shouts, her voice piercing through the rain and my single-mindedness. My hands tighten around the tree branch as her words keep my body in check. In the short time she’s been here, she’s already figured out how deep my devotion runs for Rayce. Varsha needs you alive!

But I need him alive more. I’ve almost lost him too many times, and now that he’s so close to accomplishing everything we dreamt of, I won’t allow it to be taken away in one swift blow.

With one touch, I can move him out of harm’s way. With one touch, I can also turn Rayce into a monster, raging like the one staring him down. With one touch, I can save him…but the risk is just as deadly. Even so, if my touch brings out the worst in him, makes him uncontrollable, at least he’ll be breathing. It’ll be worth it.

There’s no time to aim my grappler, so I dive from my tree branch, allowing the air to embrace me.

I collide with Rayce in a tangle of limbs and rain and flesh and blossoming pain. My world tilts as I push him out of the path of the wild boar. I land squarely on top of him, my thirsty skin finally sated after months of not touching him outside of the controlled experiments in the lab. My head rattles from the impact, and the pain echoes in my shoulder that took the brunt of the collision.

Cold air whooshes past my legs as the barreling wild boar misses its intended target, unable to change course at the last second. Overhead, the whistling of more flying arrows fills the forest.

Are you okay? I whisper, blinking rapidly to clear my vision. I didn’t hurt you, did I?

Rayce’s arms envelop me in answer as if he’s trying to remove the throbbing pain pulsing through my body. The tight pants and tunic made specifically for me to use my grapplers make it feel almost like there is nothing between us, and I breathe in his forbidden scent, a delicious concoction of spices and rain. I wait to feel the rumble in his chest as he responds, but after a second of silence, I lean up on top of him to look him in the face.

The determined slant of his brow has been replaced by a flash of bright blue through his usually serene brown eyes, and his grip grows tighter around me. His jaw snaps shut, primal rage pulsing through his body and robbing him of any rational thought of friend or foe. Though I’ve seen this happen to him more times than I’d like during experiments to provide a fix, I jerk back, trying to pull myself from on top of him.

The Borenite.

Rose, get out of there! my best friend, Marin, shouts from behind me.

Our only choice now is for me to break contact and touch him again, bringing him back to himself, but that’s much trickier than it sounds since he doesn’t want the same thing. His arms form a steel band around me, crushing my body to his.

Let go! I gasp as his fingers dig into my skin. You aren’t yourself!

His cold gaze slips over my head at the commotion behind us, and his arms loosen just as quickly as they tightened.

What? He’s doing as I asked without a fight. That’s never happened before. Something close to hope swells in my chest.

Very well, Rayce says in a voice I don’t even recognize.

No. That was too easy—

He sits up, pushing me off him in the process. My head slams against the ground, and my vision grows white. The bottoms of Rayce’s boots come into view right before he rolls out of the way, and I suddenly understand why he was so agreeable in his altered state. He wasn’t trying to protect me from himself; he was trying to kill me so he’d never have to worry about my touch again.

Ivory tusks flash through the downpour a few feet away as the boar pivots and sets its murderous gaze on me.

Chapter Two

As the wounded boar charges for me, aiming its tusk to gore my stomach, all I can think about is how I always thought I’d die by a sword. Not from something of nature. I curl into a ball to try to protect my soft middle even though my arms won’t stop the boar.

I’m not ready to go yet.

I have so much left to do. I need to stand beside Rayce and see him crowned emperor, Varsha waits for its true queen, I must avenge my father, and the Gardener still breathes. There is too much still waiting for me in these last seconds.

Behind me, I hear Rayce’s enraged screaming and can’t believe this is the last sound I’ll ever hear him make.

And yet I don’t regret my decision to save him.

The boar rushes forward. I blink. Ten feet away.

Seven.

I suck in the taste of rain heavy in the air.

Five.

A thwack fills the silence, ringing loud in the hollow space in my head. The next second, the boar lets out a horrible screech and drops with a thud to the ground. Its momentum causes it to skid forward, and the carcass crashes into my leg.

The killing blow was a perfectly aimed spear to the creature’s eye, lodged so deep that it had surely punctured its small brain.

It would have taken something at close range to hit that hard. Following the trajectory, I see Darra Shing lowering her arm from near her face. Her usually tame ebony hair sticks to her face in unruly wet strands, and her dark brown eyes look as if they could kill on sight alone. It isn’t hard to see why she was chosen as commander of the Varshan army.

Please tell me you aren’t hurt, Princess. Though her words sound harsh, her voice is full of worry.

Before I can answer her, a pair of arms wrap around my front from behind. Instinctively, I throw my arms out to break the hold.

It’s me! It’s Marin! she yells, keeping her hold on me.

I relax into the softness of her grasp, tears filling my eyes. She kisses the back of my head, but a piercing scream from behind doesn’t let me rest on her.

Twisting around causes my stomach to drop as I see what my decision cost. Three soldiers are on the ground, one not moving—hopefully not dead—while Rayce is on top of another, punching him. He reaches for the sword attached to his waist, but Arlo plows into him, knocking the sword from his grasp. They both tumble onto the muddy ground as Rayce lets out a savage cry, grasping for his sword.

I have to change him back! I yell.

Princess, I advise you to stay back until they get the Shogun under control, Darra says.

But she doesn’t understand. All of this is my fault, and if anyone dies, I’m not sure Rayce or I will ever forgive ourselves. His fingertips graze the hilt.

I’ll help, Marin says, glaring at her mother before rushing forward.

I dig my boots into the soft ground, ready to run, but a hand touches my shoulder.

Please, you need to think of your people, Darra says.

Arlo throws himself on top of Rayce once more, yanking his arm back before he can grab his sword. Both men are covered in muck and slipping as they claw at each other. Rayce’s hand wraps around Arlo’s neck.

Rayce, stop! Marin shouts as Arlo begins to gag.

I wrench away from her grasp, everything inside me yelling to rush forward, but her ominous words hold me back. "I am thinking of my people. These are my people."

There are more that depend on you than just in this clearing, Princess, she says.

Even though I haven’t decided when I’ll accept my crown, the weight of it already feels stifling. Especially if it means I can’t protect those I love for fear that my death will doom an entire city. I’m beginning to understand the responsibility Rayce always felt and why his gaze always hides a secret sadness.

Another soldier topples over them, pinning Rayce’s free arm to the ground while Marin grabs onto the one holding her brother, and she tries to pry Rayce’s grip off Arlo. Several other soldiers rush in to assist while Rayce growls, nearly as wild as the boar that almost killed us. My fingertips long to touch him and bring back the gentle man trapped underneath all that savagery.

There, it’s safe, I say, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice. I motion toward Rayce as he struggles to break free. They need me.

Her gaze locks with mine, her sharp eyes clearly displaying no regret at stopping me. Since she came here, she has declared it her responsibility to keep me safe until we travel back to Varsha, my homeland, and I’ve never really minded until this moment.

I hate that she may have been right.

My legs shake as I drop beside the pile of soldiers in the mud, and the last meal I had twists around uncomfortably in my stomach.

A little hustle, will you, Rose? Arlo says, gripping Rayce with both hands even as fresh welts begin to bloom on his neck.

He strains to keep Rayce’s arm pinned to the ground, the sword gleaming in the brown muck, just out of reach. All it would take is a single slip and Rayce wouldn’t hesitate to slice him in two. My intention wasn’t to stall, but seeing Rayce up close like this stays my hand.

He looks at me with his unnatural blue eyes, so bright they rival the stars. They would be beautiful if there was a soul behind them. His mouth twists in a snarl as he tries to reach for his sword. Even in his enraged state, he knows that if I touch him, it’s over.

I should be scared, but right now all his anger does is beg me to release him. He’s in a prison of our own making. If I hadn’t attempted to use the healing properties of the glowing blue Borenite from my city, he would have never developed this strange split in personality. But he would have also died from his war wounds. It saved his life but has robbed us of a future together if we can’t figure out how to stop these effects.

My touch sends him spiraling, but it is also the only thing that brings him back. It’s alarmingly like being in love.

Rayce’s thrashing grows violent as he claws the ground. Let me go! I demand it! I’ll kill all of you!

Don’t worry, I whisper reassuringly. I’m going to release you.

His screams are blocked out by my heart breaking as I reach out to touch his face. He thrashes around like a wild thing, trying to keep away from my caress, but Arlo and the others hold him steady. It feels like a lifetime before the back of my hand grazes his stubbled cheek. The moment we come in contact, he goes limp under the pile of men.

The eerie blue in his eyes disappears right before he shuts them.

When he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible over the pitter-patter of raindrops. The anger has passed, he says. You may let me go.

My lungs tighten, and I clench my eyes shut for a second, letting his words banish the tension from my limbs. I’m glad to be already kneeling. I’m not sure my legs could take the stress leaving my body.

It’s my Rayce, back from whatever prison my touch locks him in, but he sounds defeated. It echoes the aching in my own heart. The men hurry off him. Arlo is the last to let go, and he offers his hand to help Rayce up, but Rayce doesn’t take it.

I stay perfectly still, keeping my fingertips on his cheek. He presses his free hand to mine, breaking whatever is left inside me, and looks at me. Staying attached, he sits up and pulls me into him. If we don’t let go, the effect won’t change. He’s so warm and solid, his embrace almost dampens the doubt in my heart. Almost.

I grip onto his soaked robe, clinging to him as if he gives me life, and tuck my head underneath his muddy chin. The sound of his breathing, the beating of his heart on my cheek, the whisper of his lips against the top of my head all feel familiar and infuriatingly foreign at the same time.

We can only steal moments like this with an audience to witness, and though my cheeks heat with the intimacy of it all, I don’t dare pull away.

I’m so sorry, Rose, he whispers into my hair. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt you. Forgive me.

I shake my head against his chest. There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t do that. I know you would never intentionally cause me harm.

And yet— His voice breaks, and he doesn’t finish his thought even though we both know where he was going with it. There is no intention when the Borenite activates in his blood, only primal, animalistic instinct. Piper, the Delmarion head inventor, says it has something do with the explosive nature when Borenite and Zarenite are mixed together. In their raw forms, they explode, but in a person, it causes them to become jumbled. I care less about the explanation and more about the antidote. So far, we’ve had little success with either one.

All around us, movement threatens to end our stolen moment. Men are loading up the large boar that nearly ended me onto a stretcher, in preparation for our long trek back to the castle, while others collect the salvageable arrows. Marin pretends not to look at us as she gathers Rayce’s sword from the ground, and Darra is whispering something to Arlo.

My hands ball into fists against Rayce’s soaked robe. Why can’t this moment be like when I used to fall from the sky during my old Garden act? I want the seconds to fracture like glass, multiplying until I have an endless amount that I can use to spend with him, but all too soon, I feel Rayce straightening up.

You’re sure you’re okay? he asks.

I look up into his warm, brown eyes. I’m fine. Just a little shaken, and my body hurts from lunging off that tree to push you out of the way of the boar.

His mouth twists into a sad grin. Well, I’ve always said you fell for me pretty hard. Just proving my point, huh?

Despite our situation, I can’t help but share his smile. He has a way of always making me feel at ease, even if it doesn’t fix our problems. Not that I should be surprised, he has always been able to inspire hope.

He kisses the top of my head, but the way he holds me tells me that if we didn’t have an audience, my head wouldn’t have been his first choice. My lips begin to tingle with the thought, aching for the feeling of his pressing against mine, something we’ve barely been able to experience in the last few months. Our love is a wilting flower beside a riverbed, surrounded by water but unable to reach it.

He pulls away, breaking our touch and with it any further contact until the next time we’re tucked away in the controlled safety of Piper’s lab for more tests that will bring no results.

Rayce grits his teeth as he rises, mud covering him from head to toe. Instead of heading toward the boar that is being loaded onto a leather stretcher, he walks toward a soldier struggling to help the unmoving man Rayce knocked down. The wounded soldier lets out a pained howl as he puts weight on his left leg, and Rayce rushes to the man’s other side to help steady him.

Please, forgive me, he says to the soldier. I’ll see to it that you get care as soon as we return to the palace.

Of course, Shogun, the soldier says, though he eyes Rayce’s presence warily. Thank you.

Rayce, are you going to help carry the boar into town? Arlo calls from behind us.

Rayce looks from the wounded soldier to Arlo, torn between his duty and his need to help the man he injured. Maybe I can help relieve some of that struggle, since I’m the reason this hunt took such a dangerous turn.

I hurry over to them, waving Rayce away. Go. I’ll wrap this soldier’s leg so you can carry the boar.

Rayce gives me a grateful smile, his hand moving to touch my cheek, but he falters, his face falling as he tucks it back at his side.

Yes, Rayce answers Arlo, though his gaze never leaves mine. Yes, I’m going to help.

I nod toward the boar, shooing him away. He hesitates a moment longer before hurrying over to the stretcher. Now that he’s gone, I don’t need to waste what little energy I have left fighting the headache building in my skull. If he saw any indication I was hurt, he wouldn’t have left me. I press my fingers to my temples for a moment, trying to relieve the pressure before dropping to my knees to examine the soldier’s leg. While I start to wrap it tightly so he can’t bend it, everything that just transpired replays in my head in a sickening loop. No matter how I look at it, I don’t see a different path I should have taken. I was always going to jump to save him, because he was too stubborn to move out of the boar’s charge.

I had to touch him.

And remind everyone why we can’t even be in the same room alone anymore.

Once I secure the bandage, the soldier thanks me and goes to rest while the hunting party finishes repacking.

I look around for how I can make myself useful. The mud has deep grooves where the boar finally fell and even stranger markings were Rayce and I wrestled after I pushed him out of the way.

The sun peeks through the trees, and something shiny in the mud catches my eye. My grappler. The empty holster at my side confirms my hunch. It must have come loose when I dove from the branch.

The mud sucks in my boots as I drag my sluggish feet through to retrieve it and labor to pick it up as a pair of soldiers skirt the tiny clearing, grabbing stray