RHEN
~ OPEN OCEAN ~
Thank the gods for unflagged ships
, Rhen thought as he stared through the telescope, searching for some sign of coloring on those distant masts.
Why had he told the boy so much? The words had just spilled out, uncontrollable. He hadn't spoken of little Whyllysle in years, to anyone, his family let alone his friends.
But even after burying it in the back of his mind, the memory came to life just as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.
Rhen, seven years old, searching through the old spymaster's papers as he usually did, barely able to read them but able to read them just enough. The year before, when he had been locked away in his room for misbehavior, Rhen had discovered the secret passage behind his bed, the one that led directly to the master's office. He was just able to sneak through, just small enough to fit under his bed, and a year later, he was still snooping around.
But this had been different, now he had a younger brother to take care of—one he would treat far better than his own older brothers had treated him. And part of taking care of him was making sure Rhen knew everything that was going on.
Hours and hours of looking through parchments and Rhen had never found a thing—until one night, when he found his brother's name scribbled in the margins of a sealed letter.
Whyllysle
. Immediately, Rhen had stolen the paper, folded it, and tucked it into his shirt before scurrying back to his room. He read as much as he could, picking out words like
queen
and
king
and most importantly,
poison
. But he didn’t really understand, and he definitely didn't know what to do. Show it to his father and risk being punished? Or pretend he had never found it in the first place?
What Rhen didn't realize at the time was that there were no options. He had been too late either way.
Not even an hour later, word spread like wildfire through the castle—the youngest prince was dead. The king, like a madman, demanded information. And Rhen, not knowing what he held, gave the parchment to his father, waiting for the blow to his head for stealing another person's things.
Instead of a blow, the king disappeared. A day later, the spymaster was hung for treason and the entire castle dropped into a deep despair.
And this was the part Rhen had never told anyone, the part he had almost spilled but was able to keep secret. Eventually, Rhen did understand what the papers had held—they had named the fourth heir to the throne a babe born out of infidelity, the queen's bastard, not the blood of Whyl. For that, an innocent child paid the price. The spymaster, rather than admit what he had found, poisoned the boy in his sleep, hoping the king would never understand, hoping that it would turn into an unsolved mystery allowed to linger.
Clearly, he had been wrong.
King Whylfrick was a proud man—he never said a word to his sons and never to the queen that Rhen could tell. It was a secret between the two of them; one he wasn't sure his father even realized they shared.
But sometimes when he caught his father's gaze, Rhen was sure the king knew. Deep down in his green eyes, so like his son's, there was a speck of resentment, a glimmer of unspoken rage, and Rhen could think of no other cause.
Which was why he remained silent—was why Rhen would never tell a soul—not even a small boy who had no one in the world he could tell.
And maybe that, Rhen realized, was why he had allowed himself one moment of vulnerability with Jin. The boy had no one—no political motivations, no idea of what it meant for a prince to be indebted to him. For the first time, Rhen had someone other than his two brothers he could be honest with, could show his real self to.
But that wasn't quite true, no matter how much he hoped it was.
Rhen thought of the snoring comment. A lighthearted story, a good laugh—but also so much more, a little tale that could wreck a reputation.
Jin's innocence was his appeal and his danger—he could break Rhen's hard work without even realizing it.
He could destroy it all.
"See anything, Prince Whylrhen?"
Rhen dropped the telescope—he had stopped scanning the waters a few minutes ago.
"No flags."
A child-like glow burned in the captain's eyes.
"Attack?" He asked.
"Your call, old friend," Rhen replied, nodding his head. Rhen might be leading this expedition, but he trusted the captain. What very few knew, no one outside of this ship, was that the two of them had made an arrangement. When Rhen officially earned his knighthood, he commissioned Pygott as the first member of his spy network—his own personal captain.
That was the reason Pygott had left the crown. Not for the queen, a ridiculous rumor. But because Rhen had always been like a son to him, the son he and his wife could never have, and he could not say no.
But at times like this, looking at the fast approaching ship, Rhen understood what the captain had given up.
He loved a good fight.
And he was about to get one.
"Archers!" The captain yelled. Immediately, the crew stopped in place. Even the air seemed to still.
Then chaos—organized, as these men all knew their places.
Six of the crew ran to the bow of the ship, opening a chest that held their weapons, searching for nicks in the wood and stretching out horsehairs that had been hardened by the salt air.
Six more men ran down below deck, readying the anchored crossbows—three two-man machines that fired a spiked anchor into the hull of another ship, latching it to the
Old Maid
to enable boarding.
And Rhen, along with the remaining crew, readied for hand-to-hand combat, field battle on the water.
He pulled his sword from the scabbard strapped to his hip, swinging it in a wide arc over his head, stretching his shoulders and loosening up. His body felt light without the heavy armor of a knight, armor that was too arduous for travel. He would just have to be good enough to not get hurt.
"Prince." One of the sailors approached, holding a shield. It was wooden, the length of half of his body and unpainted. Deep holes already punctured the surface, blows from arrows in previous fights, but it would do well enough.
"Thank you, Geoff," Rhen said, pulling his arm through the strap on the back, his bicep straining under the weight. The man's eyes lit up, surprised and thankful for the recognition. Rhen nodded once more, releasing him, and Geoff circled back to the captain brandishing more weapons.
It was odd, Rhen realized as he stood there, so odd to be waiting on foot without Ember's strong body to hold him aloft. But it was better this way, better she was safe with Cal in the castle stables than at risk on the water. Even if he would pay for it when they reunited in Rayfort, Rhen smiled, picturing the moment. Leaving Ember was never easy, even when it was for her own good, but trying to get back in her good graces would be pure torture.
He looked back to the horizon where the ship was quickly becoming more visible. The center mast held no flag, no identifying marker as were the rules of sea travel. Each ship must have the flag of its kingdom and the flag of its city or occupation. Looking up, Rhen took note of the flags on this ship—the brilliant red flag of Whylkin decorated with a deep black rearing stallion, the great horse of Whyl the Conqueror that was said to be twice as large as any that had been born since. Below it, the flag of a merchant, a blue canvas split diagonally down the center with a white stripe and the image of a ship's wheel.
Below that, Rhen caught sight of Jin standing with his hands outstretched, pointing to the sea, silhouetted by the sun. His fingers seemed to almost glow against the clouds—impossible.
But
, Rhen squinted,
can that truly be just the sun?
He stepped forward.
Why was the boy holding his hands like that? They moved in circles, in some sort of dance, fingers twisting in and out of one another.
"Prince Whylrhen," Captain Pygott said from behind Rhen.
He didn’t want to look away.
Something was happening—something the boy had been hiding.
Some might think it crazy, but Rhen lived and breathed magic—was it even possible the boy did too?
Or—Rhen paused, taking a moment to slow his racing mind—he could be praying, practicing some Arpapajo ritual that he, a newworlder, knew nothing about…
Rhen turned, facing the captain and forgetting about Jin—there were more pressing matters.
"We engage on your command," the old man said, bowing his head. Rhen balled his hands into fists, looking back out toward the ship now twice the size it had been moments before.
"As soon as it is within distance," Rhen said, "make the call."
The captain nodded, moving back to the stern, standing at his proper place behind the helm. And Rhen turned, standing with the other soldiers, just waiting and watching as the enemy neared. All of them fidgeted, anxious and excited, too much electricity for their bodies to contain.
His feet held firm, but even Rhen couldn't stop the ticking of his fingers on the hilt of his sword, over and over, in a subconscious pattern he had been using since his time as a squire.
When the ship was so close that Rhen could begin to make out the men on board, Captain Pygott raised his voice.
"Ready!"
Rhen flexed the muscles in his hands, tightening and loosening his hold on both sword and shield.
"Aim!"
He held his breath.
But before the word
fire
could leave the captain's lips, a flight of arrows from the other ship flew over the water, fast approaching. Rhen lifted his shield, waiting for the thunk of metal on wood, but instead he heard the pattering of splashes.
He looked up, catching sight of the amazed gazes beside him.
The other ship had missed—their arrows sailing at least thirty feet to the right of the ship.
"Fire!" Pygott yelled and the archers stood from behind the protective wood at the bow of the ship to launch their own set of arrows.
A hit.
Five arrows landed directly on target.
And with that, the battle had begun. Without needing orders, the archers continued to launch wave after wave, sending blankets of arrows onto the opposing ship. The enemy continued to misfire, landing set after set of arrows into the sea, almost as though they believed the
Old Maid
was fifty feet to the right of where it actually stood. Either the wind was being unusually favorable, or…
Rhen shot a quick glance up at Jin, whose hands still danced before his face, a face that spoke of intense concentration.
He scrunched his brows, smelling a secret, sour taste on the wind. But now was not the time.
Screams ripped through the air. The opposing ship was in turmoil, and it was still early in the fight. The
Old Maid
remained untouched, unscathed.
"Petore," the captain called. A man beside Rhen turned around. "Send word downstairs to prepare the crossbows!"
He dashed away.
Rhen focused ahead. The other ship was not two-lengths away, the men aboard were in complete madness. Even at such a length, Rhen could see soldiers running from side to side, looking every which way, confused and terrified, shocked each time a new volley of arrows landed on top of them.
One length away.
Suddenly, a shout went up, ringing in Rhen's ears as the remaining soldiers on the enemy deck turned on their heels. Like one, they moved in a wave across their ship, to their starboard side, looking at the
Old Maid
with shock and horror written across their faces.
Rhen heard the harsh, guttural sound of Ourthuri words being screamed, too soft to make out but loud enough to cause Rhen to lift his sword.
He had been right.
It was the Ourthuri driving unmanned ships.
It was the Ourthuri preparing for war.
In one moment, Rhen felt totally vindicated, totally satisfied in all of the lies he had been spouting over the years, all of the secrets he had found and kept.
For once, his hunch had paid off. For once, his spying had done the trick.
And then the ship was right beside them.
"Steady!" The captain called. But the men all knew what to wait for.
In an excruciatingly long pause, both ships seemed to stop, as though time had ceased to exist, halting on a note of pure anticipation.
Wind pushed against flapping sails, but nothing else moved.
Almost afraid to avert his eyes, Rhen continued to look ahead, meeting the terrified stare of an Ourthuri soldier as the enemy ship pulled perfectly parallel to theirs. The man's eyes were almost black in the daylight. His skin was hardened, tough like leather, dark brown with the hint of green.
Whipping chains blasted through the air, ripping through the silence. The crash of splintering wood followed, and it could only mean one thing—the anchors had been loosed. Brown chips exploded into the sky, raining down on both decks, splashing into the water, smacking into the sails.
A second later, the chink of a crank hit Rhen's ear, and the Ourthuri ship began to move against the tide, unnaturally closer to the
Old Maid
. Ten clicks later and
boom
, wood slammed into wood.
The anchored crossbows had done their job, securing the bond between the ships.
Knowing what came next, Rhen raised his sword and yelled, a deep and throaty sound, rippling with the anger that boiled under his skin.
Those Ourthuri wanted to hurt his people. And thinking of Jin, Rhen knew they had already succeeded. But they would not succeed again. Rhen had a nephew to protect, a new babe in the palace, a new future of the kingdom.
He would not let his family or his people down.
Without blinking, he charged, running to the edge of the ship and stomping over the wooden planks that had just been laid like bridges across the gap.