Page 106 of The Verdant Cage
The naked anguish in his eyes is too much. I can’t play this out any longer. “Come here,” I say, trying to lead him to the shelter of the large rock I’d woken up by. I hold him with one hand. The other dips into my medical kit, years and years of training guiding me to exactly what I need. “I have to tell you something, but you should be sitting down for it.”
He won’t budge. I look back at him, squeezing his hand for all I’m worth. The moon outlines the strength of him. “Please,” I beg.
With a torn expression, he finally lets me guide him to the rock. “You’re not going to convince me to let you run into the arms of the Verdant Beast,” he says as he drops heavily onto the ground next to me, “so don’t even try.”
It occurs to me he hasn’t slept in at least a day. How’s he still going?
“We’ll think of an alternative,” he says. “There’s an answer for every question, I swear.”
“There is,” I agree, trying to capture every angle of his beautiful face as I lean in for another kiss. He feels the sting of my needle before the touch of my lips, but the liquid Veranol is quick. He barely has time to pull away.
Betrayal etches his features.
It’s the last image I’ll see of him.
66
The glow from the village outlines the trees in a soft light that grows stronger the nearer I get. Soon, I hear the yell of angry voices, the clash of swords—Guardians fighting Guardians? Am I too late with my plan to unite the village against the Verdant Beast?
I redouble my efforts. I must reach the square before Jarek does more harm. The only way to save my friends and family is to turn myself in, and the only way to save our society is to demonstrate the real danger we’re up against right after.
Gryphon will understand in time.
I’ve loved you every minute of every day since, Rosie.
I toss the stabbing pain into a compartment and lock it tight. I can’t think of Gryphon, or even Jonas. I can only think of my community. I’ve ignored our problems, but Gran was right about our strengths. We’re good people. We were born of rough beginnings, and we overcame, together. We take care of each other through thick and thin. That’s worth everything.
I break into the square, expecting chaos, heart pounding like a war drum in my ears. The twilight sky is smeared a deep violet. My gaze is drawn immediately to Eden’s Gate. A handful of Guardians cluster fifty yards or so in front of it, breathing heavily as if they’ve just battled.
A pile of bodies rises up behind them. My hand flies to my mouth. Am I too late?
“Rose!” Misia calls out.
I drag my eyes to the right. Across the empty square, she has my eighty-seven-year-old gran tied to a whipping post. Sojourner and Aunt Florence are on one side. On her other are Meryl, Eero, and Oscar. They’re still alive! But then I notice Guardians holding their swords out, ready to strike them down if I make a wrong move. Augustus, kneeling in front of an angry-looking Tomris with her blade at his neck, looks like he’ll be the first casualty. The rest of Noah’s Valley is gathered behind them, a few hundred people, their faces haunted, some of them wearing tunics drenched in blood.
“You came,” Jarek says, stepping down from the stage and walking past the whipping posts. He’s gripping the tablet in one hand and the back of little Marie’s neck in the other. Tears stream down her face.
I hurry forward until I’m close enough to smell the sourness of Jarek’s sweat. He’s afraid. Of what? Has he finally realized the Record Keeper is pulling his strings?
“It’s going to be okay, Marie,” I say. I’m lying. Her brother is a murderer and she’s lost her mother. But I can’t look at her sweet face, her buck teeth biting her trembling lips, and say nothing. “Everything is going to be all right, honey.”
I hear Misia’s snort.
“You can make that true, Rose,” Jarek says, stepping even nearer.
The villagers begin whispering, their eyes blazing when they meet mine. Are they thinking of people we used to be? Now that they’ve had a front-row seat to Jarek’s evil, now that they’ve seen the bodies of their neighbors stacked like firewood, are there more than a handful willing to rebel?
“You’re already dressed for your wedding,” Jarek is saying. “We can locate your groom and see it through to the end. Everything in the Valley can return to normal. Whatever this has been”—he waves his hand to indicate all of me—“can end. We can have our lives back.”
I glance down at my dress. Many of the beads have been ripped away, the lovely lace hem is torn and dragging, and the front is darkened with blood—maybe mine, maybe not. My hair has come loose from its elaborate ribbons.
“My friends and family are innocent,” I say clearly.
Jarek’s mouth twitches. “They are not. They’re traitors. They’ve worked against their community, tearing the fabric of the Valley.”
I lean forward, pitching my voice for Jarek’s ears only. It takes everything in me not to glance over at the Verdant Beast, gauging the distance between me and it. “My mother wrote about you. In coded notes in her journal. Messages only an Apothecary could decipher. I didn’t think you deserved to hear them, but I might be willing to trade.”
Jarek blinks, his words stolen from him.
