The Spirit Heir (24 page)

His royal navy sat at the very start of the Straits, right where the White Stone Sea began to narrow, confined by rocky earth and a steady current. Steep cliffs ran parallel on either side of the crystalline water, disappearing into the distance, fading into a misty horizon. But soon enough, sails would mar the beauty of the landscape, sails and fire, arrows and swords, screams of fear and groans of pain until silence fell once more—the silence of death. In a few days’ time, new shipwrecks would fill the ocean floor. Broken bits of wood would litter the surface. The water would turn purple with blood.

Rhen ran a hand through his hair.

"How does a Lord of Fire find himself in the middle of the sea?" Admiral Morraye stepped next to Rhen, gripping the open rail to his right.

Turning with a mild grin, amusement coming and passing quickly, Rhen turned to the older man. "Even I cannot defy the king."

"Has Whyllem lost all hope, then?" His voice was resigned, not angry or accusing. Still though, Rhen cringed inwardly, unsure of what to say. The admiral flicked a glance in his direction, smiling gravely. "Come, Prince Whylrhen, it is not so difficult to guess. I would do the same in the king's position, try to send at least one member of my family to safety—try to save at least one person amidst so much death. The only thing I cannot figure out is where the arrow came from to put you off course, to bring you here."

"Airedale has turned. We were attacked when our boat neared their shores and my friend was hit."

"Has the southern edge of the Straits fallen as well?"

Rhen sighed. Honesty was the bravest approach, but was it the right one? How would the admiral respond if he knew the war was everything but over, even though it had barely begun? Would Rayfort lose its navy, one final blow to the kingdom? Still though, even with the risk, Rhen could not lie to a dying man. Because that's what everyone on this ship was—dead, even if they didn't know it yet.

"If they have not fallen already, they will soon." The admiral nodded as though not surprised and kept his gaze locked on the horizon. Rhen turned to him, lowering his voice as the pressure in the air shifted, stilled in the calm right before the storm, and then continued. "You don't act startled by my words at all. Why come out here if you already knew the battle was lost?"

"I have a king I must obey, a thousand men who look to me for direction, a wife who trusts that I will keep her safe, a son who believes I am more than human. Who am I to turn away from them? To abandon them?"

The admiral turned to Rhen, meeting his eyes with a sad look, sympathetic, almost pitied. "I'm sure your brother knows this well, Prince Whylrhen, but all we have in life is the promises we keep, the honor we uphold. Facing the enemy is not a death sentence, but a chance to rise to the occasion. The odds may be poor, but the war is not lost—not yet, not if I can help it."

"What will you do?" Rhen asked, leaning in as though he could steal some of this man's strength, some of his optimism.

"Exactly what I planned, I'll fight. A good leader hopes for the best, but prepares for the worst. In my eyes, we were always going to meet the Ourthuri with no aid from our shores. But don't underestimate these ships and the men they hold, we'll do just fine."

"I hope you're right," Rhen muttered, unable to fight the gloom clouding his mind.

Motion pulled his gaze back around. A sailor ran toward him just as thunder shattered the sky, making Rhen jump. The rain strengthened into fat droplets splashing against his skin. In the distance, over a spot that could easily be Rayfort, lightning flashed, making his gut sink to the floor.

"My Prince," the sailor said as he closed the gap and panted, taking a quick breath, "the apothecary needs you."

Rhen took off at a sprint, racing to the door. He left the sailor behind, forgetting he had no idea where to find the apothecary. But as soon as he traveled below deck, sheltered from the noisy storm as the wood closed around him, moans filtered into Rhen's ears. Female moans. Clear as any guide.

"What's wrong?" Rhen burst as he flung the door open. Jinji rested on a bed in the center of the room, writhing under layers of blankets as sweat poured from her skin.

"Prince Whylrhen," the apothecary spoke calmly, "this is absolutely normal. I have cleaned the wound and sewn it shut, but a fever set in from the infection. I believe I removed all of the bile, but we can only wait and hope her temperature lowers, that the illness breaks."

The man cleaned his tools, wrapping them in a leather hide before stepping cautiously toward the door. He paused just before passing Rhen, mixed emotions filtering across his face. "The woman called out your name multiple times. I believe your presence will help her fight through the fever dreams until they subside."

Rhen waited until the apothecary left before filling the spot next to her on the bed. As though she sensed him, Jinji leaned into his body, relaxing slightly against his muscles. The whimpers softened and slowed, and her body stopped jerking. But still, she shivered, teeth chattering despite the humidity in the air.

Pulling the blankets securely over her body, tucking them under her skin so that nothing but her head was visible, Rhen hugged her close, wishing he could absorb whatever pain she felt and take it all away, live it for her.

"Rhen," she murmured. Then louder, "Rhen!"

"I'm right here," he told her, brushing the hair from her face, wishing she would open her eyes and know it was truly him speaking, him holding her, keeping her safe.

But Jinji was too far gone. Her body twitched.

"No, no, no," the words came fast and unrelenting as she repeated the single syllable over and over, shaking her head.

What horrors was she reliving in those dreams? For such a young woman, there were too many moments to choose from, too many experiences to never forget. The loss of her family. The destruction of the
Old Maid
. The massacre in the palace. The hours in the dungeon. The fall from the cliffs. Each was brutal, terrifying in its own way.

Or were these dreams more like premonitions, visions of a future she hoped to avoid? Did she see the shadow, this time succeeding in Rhen's murder? Or maybe they were back in Rayfort, and it was his head that graced a spike outside the city walls. Or maybe they were here in the midst of battle, falling under the weight of the Ourthuri.

Somehow Rhen knew her nightmares were not filled with normal fears—loss of a child, loss of a loved one to illness or age, loss of money, of fortune. No—whatever haunted her mind, Rhen was sure it was full of shadows and phantoms, maybe even dragons. All beasts that humans weren't made to fight, weren't supposed to overcome.

As the rain grew stronger, beating the side of the ship, roughing the waters, Rhen just held Jinji close, whispering words into her ear he would have been otherwise too afraid to say. That he needed her. That she was not allowed to leave him. That he would be lost without her. That he loved her.

Her only response was to steady her breath, to cool down, to stop wriggling uncomfortably under the sheets, to quiet her moans, to be peaceful. But that was the only response Rhen wanted—to see her growing healthier before his eyes.

After a while, lulled by the rocking and the pitter-patter of the storm, Rhen drifted off to sleep. For the first time in days, he was blissfully unaware of the world around him. Not drowning in dreams. Not lost in unforeseen horrors.

Just blank.

Empty.

Full of nothing but a warm, steady heartbeat that had slowed down to match the one thumping lightly against his chest.

15

JINJI

~ THE STRAITS ~

Jinji woke to the gentle hum of breath in her ear. Cracking her eyes open, she tilted her head to the side, smiling as she saw Rhen's sleeping face turned toward her. Mouth open slightly and cheek squished against the pillow, he looked at peace. Warm fingers rested gently on her arm, holding her, so even in his dreams he would know she was close.

Aching to touch him, Jinji lifted her arm, gasping as pain flared across her chest, diving down to the tips of her fingers. Jinji shook her head, blinking away the spots in her eyes as the pain ebbed and her memories came rushing back.

The cliffs. The soldiers. The arrow.

Falling…

After she hit the water, everything went blank. Where had Rhen taken her?

Judging by the gentle rise and fall, they were on the water. But this was not the boat Jinji last remembered living on. The more she looked around the room, the more her suspicions were confirmed. The walls around them were wooden, decorated by maps and furniture all nailed to the floor. A canopy fell around the bed. And the window looked out to nothing, just a thick layer of fog, reminiscent of the mornings she remembered on the
Old Maid
, where the ocean was hidden from view until the sun rose and burned the mist away.

For a moment, she was confused. But soon enough, Jinji realized where they must be—with the warships. Back in Rayfort, she had tried to find Rhen after he had wished their fleet good luck and good weather. These must be those ships. Which meant they were back in harm's way once more.

Great.

Jinji rolled her eyes. Was it so impossible to stay out of trouble? Just for a month, a week even. Ever since the two of them had met, it had been one close call after another.

But even as the thoughts came, she pushed them away. Rhen must have come here to find her help, to heal her wounds, because even though the pain was strong, a cloud was lifting from her mind, cleansing her of whatever ill had racked her body. A bandage wrapped around her shoulder, and feeling it with her unwounded arm, Jinji could tell a scar marred her skin—just another to add to her growing collection.

Where have you been?
The voice pressed into her thoughts, snippy and insistent.

Jinji closed her eyes tightly, fighting the shock zipping up her spine. Would she ever get used to this? That answer was simple—probably not.

"I've been ill," she whispered, eyeing Rhen, careful not to wake him.

In the underground castle, she had tried to explain the voice. But listening to an explanation was very different than waking to find his friend talking to someone that existed only inside her head.

Oh…

"Yes, that's right," Jinji snapped. "You abandoned me for days, leaving me on my own, and what happened? I was shot by an arrow."

I apologize
, the voice said slowly, as though this was something she did very seldom and almost always against her will.
I've been in the ether for a very long time. My human emotions are overwhelming and, though I knew it was selfish, I needed to be alone until the hurt passed.

Jinji swallowed as understanding clenched her gut and sympathy warmed her heart. "I know how that feels."

Yes, well…
If voices could swallow, Jinji had a feeling that's what she was doing. Gathering her thoughts, refocusing on the task at hand. An odd sense of companionship settled across Jinji's mind.
We lost a lot of time, and I believe I know what my shadow-self is planning.

"What?" Jinji breathed in sharply, hanging onto the next words.

You said he was attacking humans, purposefully. Were these special humans? Tied to the spirits?

"Yes," Jinji answered quickly, pulse increasing.

As I thought. His goal is the same as it was in ages past, in the memory I showed you. To leave me alone in this world, to kill all the humans who are connected to me and to my spirits. To take away everyone I could possibly learn to care about. He doesn't understand why I returned to my spirit realm and abandoned him to the ether and his shadow realm once more. He followed me here because he believes I sought human companionship, but he is wrong. I came back only to set my world, my creation, back on its true path.

"What can we do?" Jinji asked. Some of the voice's words did not make complete sense to her, but they could go back to that. Urgency propelled her forward, made her want to race to the end goal.

You must go to my home in the mountains, the place where the veil between the ether and my spirit realm is thinnest. It's where our powers are the strongest. You should feel a pull to go there, to return.

"In the mountains?" Jinji asked, sighing. Brython—where Rhen had wanted to take her all along, the mountains.

Then she paused and looked up at the canopy above her bed, not really seeing it—seeing something else. That day on the docks when the voice had given her the vision, Jinji had been staring at the Gates, mesmerized by the pure white spirit, the jinjiajanu, that sparkled around those distant mountain peaks.

Brython wasn't her destination.

The Gates were.

"Are they made of white stone? Taller than any other in the world?" Jinji asked. But in her mind, everything was already set. The white stone castle in the memory—the room splayed with the bodies of the dead, made more gruesome by the stark contrast of red blood on a white background—that had to be the Gates. Now that she had seen a castle buried in the ground, it was not so hard to imagine one might rest undiscovered in the jagged peaks at the center of the kingdom, surrounded by the sea.