The Hidden Twin by Adi Rule Page A

I’m realistic,” the woman says. “Look, the Commandant has no secrets, all right? Everything you see is everything that’s here. I’m telling you, it doesn’t exist.”
    There is a louder crunch of gravel now, and his voice turns severe. “Don’t be stupid. It is not your job to question its existence, it is your job to find it.”
    â€œBut they say the Black Thorn—”
    â€œIf he is real, he is a human being who pops when you squash him, just like everyone else,” he snaps. “We are getting impatient. If we don’t find the heart soon, the Beautiful Ones will. Or shall I report back that you are unfit? I’m sure the Empress’s son knows where it is, and I know someone who would be more than happy to squeeze it out of him.”
    â€œNo!” The young woman sounds nervous now. “There’s no need for that, please. No, I’ll—I’ll keep looking. I’ll find it.”
    I hear more crunching of gravel as the two people move off in different directions. Is Zahi in danger?
    When I’m certain they’re gone, I step out of the toad-hat and stretch my spine. I am still puzzling as I step off the path of brass stones and back onto the main gravel walk through the garden. Maybe that’s why I collide with a young man with puffy skin and watery eyes who looks like a turnip.
    â€œHey!” he growls, even though he is easily twice my size and I’m the one who was just bounced off into a patch of giant bluelets.
    â€œSorry,” I mutter, at least having the presence of mind to pull my goggles down over my eyes.
    â€œFrigging servants,” Turnip Face says, straightening his foppish blue waistcoat and feathered hat.
    â€œI’m not a servant, I’m a gardener,” I snap, even though it would be better to keep my mouth shut.
    â€œWell!” he says, “Isn’t that—? Hang on, it’s you. What the hell are you dressed like that for?”
    I turn away as though I have business on the other side of the garden. “This is my uniform, sir. Sorry to bother you.”
    I try to step away, but he grabs my shoulder and turns me around. “What are you playing at, Jey?” he says.
    Jey!
    â€œI don’t appreciate your tone. Or your hand,” I say coldly, shaking him off. Sweet Rasus, what is going on?
    â€œSneaking around in here, in disguise?” Turnip Face says. Sweat glistens at his temples. “What are you doing? Are you working with them ? Have you abandoned the cause? You little sneak!”
    He grips my shoulders and pushes them together as though the information he wants will come shooting out of my chest if he squeezes hard enough. It hurts my bones, and the scars on my back sizzle. My lungs yearn for that one decadent pull of air I won’t allow them, the one I know will release the power I feel writhing at my core. But I remember the bloody men in the alley and try to keep my breath shallow.
    â€œMol’s flaming socks, I’m not in disguise!” I say. “I’m a gardener, you featherless oaf!”
    â€œNo more of your lies, Jey!” he spits, smacking me across the face with an open hand.
    It stings. Even worse, it knocks my dark goggles to the ground. I scramble to retrieve them, but it is too late. The young man has frozen, his gaze transfixed on my face. “What the hell—?”
    â€œWhat’s going on? Is something the matter?” A voice speaks up from behind him. My back cools; my shoulders ache.
    â€œEverything’s fine,” Turnip Face says, though he looks a little shaken. He turns, and we both set eyes on Zahi Zan. “Your Excellency!”
    Zahi bows, Turnip Face bows, and I’m not sure what to do, so I end up nodding rather violently.
    Turnip Face is all smiles. “You’ve met my lady friend, Miss Jey Fairweather?”
    My lady friend. This must be Bonner, then. Mr. Root Vegetables. Oh, Jey, you