The Spirit Heir
Author: Kaitlyn Davis
Date: 2014-06-15 06:33:53+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Adventure; Fantasy; Supernatural; Paranormal; High Fantasy; dragons; Young Adult; Fantasy Romance; Magic
Description: From bestselling author Kaitlyn Davis comes the second book in the thrilling A Dance of Dragons series0́4perfect for fans of Throne of Glass, Graceling, and Game of Thrones!Drenched in darkness and surrounded by the echo of screams, Jinji waits deep in the dungeons of Rayfort, haunted by the memory of the knife stabbing Rhen, plagued by a foreign voice whispering through her mind. A few floors above, Rhen rests trapped in a coma, about to wake to a changed world0́4a world where his best friend is a woman, his nephew is the king, and an enemy army surrounds him on all sides. But human wars are

THE

SPIRIT

HEIR

A Dance of Dragons #2

By Kaitlyn Davis

Kindle Edition

Copyright 2014 Kaitlyn Davis

Cover Art: Manipulated by Kaitlyn Davis from attribution licensed flickr creative commons photos by Zaraut B, John Morgan, Francois, Brenda Clarke, and Jason Jenkins, and a DeviantArt brush by XResch.

World Map: Illustrated by Sarah Faith Morris (Sylva Knight)

The right of Kaitlyn Davis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the author, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be direct infringement of the author's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblances between the characters and persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

ALL WORKS BY KAITLYN DAVIS

A Dance of Dragons

The Shadow Soul

The Spirit Heir

The Phoenix Born – Coming Soon!

A Dance of Dragons – The Novellas

The Golden Cage

The Silver Key

Midnight Fire

Ignite

Simmer

Blaze

Scorch

To my family for their unconditional love,
my friends for their overwhelming support,
and my fans for their incredible enthusiasm.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

All Works by Kaitlyn Davis

Dedication

Table of Contents

World Map

1. Jinji ~ Rayfort

2. Rhen ~ Rayfort

3. Jinji ~ Rayfort

4. Rhen ~ Rayfort

5. Jinji ~ Rayfort

6. Rhen ~ Rayfort

7. Jinji ~ Rayfort

8. Rhen ~ Rayfort

9. Jinji ~ Rayfort

10. Rhen ~ Rayfort

11. Jinji ~ White Stone Sea

12. Rhen ~ Hills of Airedale

13. Jinji ~ Hills of Airedale

14. Rhen ~ Hills of Airedale

15. Jinji ~ The Straits

16. Rhen ~ The Straits

17. Jinji ~ White Stone Sea

18. Rhen ~ The Gates

19. Jinji ~ The Gates

20. Rhen ~ The Gates

21. Jinji ~ The Gates

22. Rhen ~ Rayfort

The Phoenix Born

The A Dance of Dragons Novellas

The Complete Midnight Fire Series

About the Author

(Back to Table of Contents)

1

JINJI

~ RAYFORT ~

Something about the dark made time pass both slowly and quickly. There was no dawn. No dusk. No trail of twinkling stars leading to the start of a new day.

And yet, there were other signs.

The drip of invisible water, counting the seconds as they wandered by. The scuff of metal on stone, hinting that other life rested out of reach. The pain of raw flesh, promising that death was close, but still so far away.

And the screams, Jinji thought, shuddering. The screams came once a day, echoing through the void, crawling over her skin, haunting her.

There had been no screams for a while, but that didn’t mean they were done. It meant they were closer than ever. And Jinji knew that time was running out. It would soon be her cries of agony that rippled across these moist stones, filling the damp air.

Every day someone new was taken. At first she didn’t know why, but gradually Jinji came to understand. One man shouted, I don't know anything. Another, I'm sorry. Still more pleading for forgiveness, denying any involvement, promising to swear loyalty. The traitors of Whylkin groveling at the feet of their failures.

And somehow, Jinji had been placed among them, to rot in the dungeons until it was her turn to be questioned—and the spirits knew what else.

She shifted her weight, wincing as the shackles holding her hands scraped against her wrists, a stinging pain she was almost getting used to. Almost.

I can help you, the voice said.

Stop. Jinji sighed, wishing for peace in what little time she had left.

Somehow, her mind had been invaded. When she had awakened in the dungeons, something woke up with her—inside of her. Jinji had no idea who, or what, it was—crawling around, making a home, trying to force a past on Jinji that she wanted nothing to do with. All she knew was that she had touched the shadow and now found herself possessed.

Talk to me. Let me ease your worry, your fears. You do not have to be alone, not while I am here. There is much to be done. Please—

Jinji gritted her teeth and slammed her head back against the stone, blinking as colors flashed before her eyes.

Get out of my head, she yelled back—but the voice was gone, pushed out by the pain as it always was. The voice would return, Jinji knew. It would try to talk to her again, to coax her into submission under the cover of kindness.

But mostly, the voice came to her in dreams—the only time she could not force it from her mind. Memories springing to life in sleep, calling to her, urging Jinji to welcome them. Sometimes, she wanted to give in, to open her thoughts, and let the mystery reveal itself. But then what? Would the voice have control? Would Jinji still remember who she was, would she remember her family, would she remember Rhen?

It was not a risk she was willing to take.

Pain was familiar to her now. She had begun to welcome it with open arms. Pain at least was predictable, comforting in that it always felt the same.

Pain of the body.

The pain in her soul was different though. It crept up on her when she least expected it, stealing her breath, making her chin quiver and her eyes burn with dryness.

Rhen. She sighed.

The ache in her heart scorched, the sort of fire only Rhen could quell. If he were alive. If he could forgive her. If she could just see him one more time.

So many questions without answers.

The last time Jinji had seen Rhen, a day that seemed so far away yet so close to her heart, he had been dying. Stabbed in the gut by the shadow, left in a heap on the ground, cradling his wound, holding onto life with all the strength he had left.

Jinji had abandoned him to fight the shadow, to kill the dark spirit that had murdered her people, to save Rhen from its deadly grasp. But she had woken here, surrounded by night with no memory of the fight. No idea if the shadow still lived or if she had succeeded in its demise. Or far worse, if it rested inside of her now.

Would she ever know if she had been fast enough?

The possibilities weighed heavily on her conscience.

If Rhen had died, it would explain why she remained in captivity. No other man of Whylkin would vouch for her loyalty, would risk himself to release her from this prison. But if he were dead, then everything was lost. Everything. Rhen had become her family, her best friend, her home. If he were gone, Jinji was not sure she could live—how much fight did one person have in them? How much suffering could one person overcome?

Yet, if he had lived…

The possibility scared Jinji even more. Because then she was truly alone, abandoned without even his memory to hold close. If Rhen were alive, then he had willingly left her down here to slowly suffer, to die where he could not hear or see. By now, he would surely know she was a woman—meaning he had chosen not to forgive her, meaning her lie was more than he could bear.

Nonetheless, Jinji held tight to the dream that he still breathed, the hope that she could win back his trust, the prayer of a chance to try.

That wish was all she had.

It made her open her eyes every morning and say goodbye to the warm embrace of sleep, an embrace that could easily be everlasting if she let it.

Jinji breathed deeply, letting her chest stretch and expand while she welcomed the spirits into her vision.

There was one other way Jinji had learned to tell time in the dark. Her favorite way. A small indulgence. Once a day, between the screams when her fear seemed too strong and her grief too heavy, Jinji wove the elemental spirit threads.

The illusions came even easier since dueling the shadow, almost as though something had been unlatched inside of her, some gateway that had kept them blocked was now open. The first night, Jinji wove an entire forest around her—complete with a breeze, the warmth of the sun, the presence of her brother Janu—so real she wanted to leave it there, to pretend. But, Jinji had come to learn that the truth, hard as it was, needed to be accepted.

Most of the time.

Jinji sat straighter, ignoring the strain of her muscles, and closed her eyes. Hands limp at her sides, the spirits heeded her mental command, letting her dreams unfold in real life.

She opened her lids.

And there he stood, so real, red hair glowing in the dark.

Rhen.

Fingers inching forward on their own accord, Jinji's body yearned for him, for his comfort. For a moment, she imagined this as truth.

Rhen stepped forward. His arm reached to open the bars, but his illusion stepped through them, ignoring the metal and meeting no resistance. Silent steps brought him closer, closer, until he was kneeling before Jinji—green eyes like a fire in the night, drawing her home.

His callused hand stretched forward, just enough for his palm to gently kiss her cheek, his thumb to rub her soft skin. And his touch felt real—warm and sturdy. That was how strong this illusion was tied, almost solid, so close to alive—so, so close.

Jinji's eyes began to water, remembering the truth—that this was false, all in her head.

But still, commanded by her thoughts, Rhen sat down next to her, opening his embrace and encircling her in his muscular arms. Her torso leaned in, letting the illusion hold her, letting the dream wash over her. His arms tightened, hugging her close, a touch that felt firm.

And then the tears came. Slowly at first. Then racking her body, shaking her limbs and scattering her breath.

It was the only time Jinji let herself cry—surrounded by the love she wished could be real. The only time she felt safe enough to let her fear surface, and her guilt.

A crack echoed down the hall.

Jinji sat up, alert. Rhen disappeared.

Time had run out.

Far away, boots clicked on stone.

Her heart skipped.

Somehow, Jinji knew they were coming for her. Dread filled her, threatening to boil over, but she hardened her muscles—fighting.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Jinji promised herself that they would not break her. They would never see her cry. Her pain would not echo down these halls—there would be no screaming hour today.

The boots continued. Soft. Getting louder. The beat was steady. Slow. Menacing. Steps of complete control.

Jinji calmed her breath, firming her resolve.

The sound grew and moved closer.

Until she saw it. Orange light reflecting off the misted walls. A dull glow. Jinji shrank away, blinded by the brightness. Her eyes stung, but remained dry. Resolute.

Ghostly figures stepped into view, hidden behind the light that blocked her sight. Keys jingled. Voices grumbled, murmuring softly to each other.

An illusion, Jinji thought as her terror mounted. She could weave one, pretend the cell was empty, that she had escaped.

The torch light grew stronger.

It was now or never. In a minute, the light would reach her toes, would travel up her dirty legs, would reveal her.

Her mind itched to keep pretending for as long as it took, to turn her illusions into real life and to live down here wrapped inside of them forever—in a place where her family lived and Rhen was beside her. A magical place.

A false place.

It will be all right, the voice promised. Jinji wanted to shut it out, to throw her head against the wall and push the phantom from her mind, but she didn't. For the first time, not being completely alone was comforting.

The halo entered her cell, revealing black speckled feet and copper calves that looked pale for the first time.

It was too late.

The men stopped outside her bars. The key was inserted, the lock twisted, and the door opened.

Jinji clenched her teeth.

One man stepped forward into the glow of the fire, revealing his ruby garbed body. A member of the king's guard. Jinji recognized the uniform—she had pretended to wear it not too long ago.

Her eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, holding a small iron key in his hand.

"I am going to unlock these chains, do you understand?" he asked, voice soft, almost as though trying to calm her anxiety. But his face was still masked in shadow, hiding the truth in his eyes.

Jinji nodded. The skin around her ankles and wrists was exposed, scratched, and it burned. Now in the light, she could make out the red streaks of caked-over blood and other spots that glistened, fresh and stinging. Removing the weights would be a small relief.

Slowly, he stepped closer, trying not to alarm her. The rings unclasped, dropping to the floor with a resounding clang. One. Two. Three. Four. Echoes that Jinji hoped might lift the spirits of those around her.

"Can you stand?" he asked and offered a hand.

Jinji ignored it, using muscles she had not accessed in a while. Her thighs yelled at her, protesting, begging her to remain seated. But she rose, gritting her teeth the entire way up. Creaky bones cracked as she stretched, bringing life back into her battered body.

One step at a time, Jinji moved slowly across the cell. The closer she got to the exit, the more she wondered if it were all a trick. Were they about to slam the door in her face, laughing, like a sick game?

But she passed through the threshold, between the iron bars, and into the dark hall. Her feet didn't want to stop—they wanted to race into the abyss and keep going until she reached the sun. Jinji did not let them. Instead, she planted her toes and turned to face the captor behind her, his features now revealed in the light.

Shock—that was the word that came to mind. But Jinji couldn’t place it. Was he shocked at her silence? Did he wish for her to plead her innocence, to promise there had been some mistake? She would not give him the satisfaction.

No. She met his eyes, resistant, and he was the one who looked away.

The other man was not so gentle.

"Come on," he said—to his companion, to her, to them both.

Grabbing her arm roughly, clenching his fingers around her frail frame, he pulled her forward. Jinji stumbled, her body not prepared to move so fast, but held on.

Swiftly, they passed through the corridors. Jinji tripped, floundering at this rapid pace she had grown unaccustomed to, stubbing her toes on the uneven path. Her feet were cold against the stone, but her body was hot with exertion. Even if she walked toward death, it felt good to walk. To move.

The men didn't say anything else. Gave no hints as to their destination. But it seemed as though they traveled upward. Away. Out.

They stopped at a door.

As it swung open, Jinji gasped. Her fragile body finally faltered and she fell, eyes burning as she clutched them, covered them.

It was too bright. Too white after so long in the dark.

She blinked rapidly, bringing moisture to her eyes, trying to bring her vision back. The shadow of her hands provided some relief, blocked out most of the glow until it was just her skin, streaked with orange where the sun tried to break through.

Gently, she shifted her fingers, letting the cracks widen. Gradually, her eyes adjusted despite the burn.

The castle of Rayfort.

Jinji recognized the white stones reflecting the sun, the red tapestry hanging on the wall painted with the stallion Rhen wore proudly on his clothes. She was still in Rayfort, still at his home.

Gaze shifting further, Jinji met wide-eyed stares. Three women stood a few feet away, talking with two men. Their clothes were gold-lined and rich in color, spotted with little pearls. The conversation, whatever it was, had stopped. Now they stood aghast, unable to speak at the sight of her cradling her head, stuck on the ground.

Jinji let her hands fall into her lap. Her vision followed. And it was her turn for shock. The scars around her wrists looked more painful in the daylight, more gruesome. Her fingers were black with dirt. Her arms were covered by it. Her skin, once a beautiful tan, was now ghostly. The white shirt looked gray. Her pants were ripped, shredded by her knees.

Suddenly cold, Jinji hugged herself, covered herself. Shame tugged at her heart. How could she have been dragged so low? Once the future leader of her people, now a beggar.

Jinji stood and lifted her head, trying to cover the embarrassment with stubborn pride. Straightening her spine, she dropped her hands and met the eyes of the guards. It was time to move on, and they understood, walking forward and trusting her to continue.

A few turns later, a few shocked looks later, and they had arrived at another door. The more forceful guard pushed her inside and shut it.

Panic immediately clenched her heart and Jinji turned, slamming the door with her fist, still not making a sound.

She fell forward, hugging the wood, afraid what she might turn to find. Silence welcomed her. No sounds, not even breathing, filtered into her ears.

Would they really bring her here to watch her scream? Jinji reasoned with herself. It made no sense to take her through the castle unless a different fate waited for her. The fate only a friend could provide, one very specific friend, the only one she had left.

Hesitant, Jinji turned, hoping she might find a dream come to life.

But the room was empty.

There were no people, only things. Fluffy chairs she would not stain with her soot. Tables holding games she did not know how to play. Shelves displaying books she could not read. Everything was luxurious. Everything was foreign.

A fire blazed to one side, and a window sat at the other. Though she was cold, Jinji yearned for the sight of the outside world and made her way to the glass, padding carefully across the rug.

A silk cushion sat below the pane, lined with carefully arranged pillows, but she did not rest her weary muscles. Instead, Jinji stood, strengthened by the scene before her.

Trees.

Far off in the distance, past the castle wall, beyond the sea of rooftops, was a strip of evergreen. Minute maybe but everything to her. The world. A sight she wasn't sure she would ever see again. A sliver of home she could hold close.

A smile spread her lips, and Jinji's hand rose to rest gently against the window, trying to touch the leaves she could almost hear swaying in the breeze. Her vision cut everything else out, letting her forget Rayfort and to feel free for a moment. Jinji's forehead followed her hand, meeting the cool touch of the glass, and feeling secure, she let her mind wander.

It had to be Rhen. How she wished it were Rhen. But she had to think clearly.

The queen had been possessed by the shadow. It could be her, demanding justice against Jinji or perchance needing to question her.

It could be one of his brothers, feeling obligated to tell Jinji the bad news of Rhen's death since she was his friend.

It could be a cruel trick, to show her a glimpse of the world before stripping it away.

Or it could be Rhen.

Her insides skipped a beat, fluttering around her stomach—a wish that would not be denied.

Rhen.

At the thought, something behind her clicked. Jinji held her breath and turned around slowly, searching for the source. To her side, a different entrance from where she came in, a knob was twisting. She paused, unsure if this was real or fake, an act of her mind playing tricks or the impossible manifestation of dreams coming true.

The entry swung open, and there he stood. Commanding. Taking up the entire frame of the doorway, hair just as bright as Jinji remembered, eyes just as sparkling.

All breath left her body and she stood speechless, still not sure if she was awake.

Rhen looked at her with an expression Jinji couldn't read. Confusion. Horror. Sympathy. Longing. All of them or none of them, she couldn’t decide.

Jinji watched, waiting for him to disappear, to wink out of existence just like her illusions. But he seemed so solid.

Seconds ticked by but the room felt frozen in time.

Why was he just standing there? Jinji silently commanded he step forward, but Rhen didn’t move. Stubborn.

He must be real, she thought and bit her lower lip, almost afraid to find out the answer. But Jinji had waited a long time in the dark, and she would wait no longer.

Stepping cautiously forward, she approached Rhen. He watched on, impassive but not moving away. She stopped close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, but far enough away to keep herself composed.

There were so many things to say, but her lips would not open. So many words that would not come.

Jinji wanted to collapse against him, to fall into his arms and let them catch her, protect her, convince her that it was all real. But she wouldn't, no matter how much her body protested against her. If this Rhen were real, he did not trust her. He did not view her as a woman to comfort. He did not ache for her in the way she ached for him.

To Rhen, she was a liar. A stranger. Without Jin, he didn’t know who she was. In time, she might change that. But now was not that time.

Still, she needed to touch him, to feel his strength, his solidity.

So instead, Jinji simply reached her hand up, cupping his warm cheek—peachy against her dirty fingernails. To her surprise, his eyes softened and his hand followed, holding hers tightly against his freckles.

"You're alive?" she asked, her emotions hanging by a thread. There was one thing her illusions could not do, one thing only a real person could create—noise.

Rhen smirked, left side of his lip raising slightly, and responded, "Barely."

Joy flooded Jinji's body, filling her up, and spilling over into tears that she could not contain. Just as she thought her legs could hold her no longer, that it was too much and she would fall against him just to feel his embrace, it was Rhen who faltered. Clutching his stomach, he slumped, stumbling as one leg gave out beneath him.

Against all of her predictions, Jinji was the one who caught him.

2

RHEN

~ RAYFORT ~

Rhen opened his eyes to a world he did not recognize.

It was white, bright, filled with blurred colors he couldn’t quite make out. He blinked, trying to clear his spotty vision. But it was more than that.

There was an emptiness inside of him.

A hole that had not been there before.

"Get the king regent," a low voice said.

Rhen shifted his head, trying to see, but it was useless. Memories flashed before his eyes, raining down on him, a flood. The Naming. Little Whyllean. And then after, the banquet hall…

Rhen gasped, his body convulsing as the fissure filled itself. He remembered. The fight, a terrible fight against the lords of his homeland, against people his father would have named friends.

His father.

Gone.

The king was dead. His eldest brother Tarin was dead.

Rhen had not been fast enough. He had not uncovered enough information. He had been unable to convince his father of the truth. And now, the Ourthuri were on his homeland, fighting with his people against the crown.

Jerking forward, Rhen sat upright, coughing. But his stomach burned, unable to hold his weight, and he fell back again, clutching his wound.

"Whyllem?" He forced the words through gritted teeth, trying to hide his pain.

"He is coming, Prince Whylrhen." A shadow fell over him, a face he couldn’t see clearly, but the voice sounded familiar. Frenetic.

Rhen nodded, trying to push past the ache in his muscles. But instead, one more image slipped into sight. The face of a girl, a copper-skinned girl with closed eyelids, passed out on the ground surrounded by broken glass.

Jin.

Jin, the woman.

A sting pierced his heart, punctured it just enough to be painful, to make him wince. All of the lies. All of it lies. Their friendship. Their trust.

Rhen was a fool. He had not seen past a false face. He had not seen past King Razzaq's treachery. He had not seen his best friend's father for what he truly was—a traitor.

The Lord of Roninhythe? More like, the Lord of Rebellion.

As if his mind knew the truth to his thoughts, Rhen's vision finally cleared. A canopy came into view overhead, red velvet with a tear down the middle and hole in the upper right corner—a side effect of Rhen's overactive imagination as a boy. He was in his own bed, in the castle, home. Which at least meant the kingdom had not fallen—not yet.

Rhen looked to the side, through the cascading curtains surrounding his bed, and saw his servant Liam pacing nervously before the fireplace. He knew he’d recognized that voice.

"Liam," he said, his tone scratchy and soft. Liam stopped moving and spun around immediately, unclenching his hands.

"My Prince?"

"Water, please." Rhen coughed.

Liam rushed to his side, lifting the pitcher that had been waiting full next to his bed. He filled a silver goblet, then paused, put it down and turned back to Rhen.

"Pardon," he said, wrinkling his eyebrows and twitching his fingers.

Rhen sighed—the man had been his servant for years, would he ever just relax? But Rhen knew what he was getting at and held back the roll in his eyes. There was punishment after all, for touching a royal without first receiving permission. "Yes, Liam, please help me sit up."

The man's shoulders visibly relaxed, and he reached his arm behind Rhen's back, using surprising strength to arch it higher. Rhen waited, trying to ignore the growing ache in his stomach while feathery pillows were quickly rearranged. A moment later, Rhen was released to sink back into his perch.

"Thank you—" Rhen started to say, but in that instant, the wooden door of his bedroom was thrown open, snapping against the white stone wall with a loud bang.

Whyllem, Rhen thought, laughing silently to himself. Typical entrance from his brother, but it didn’t matter. Because it was his brother. Alive. Healthy. One person Rhen had been able to save.

A smile spread across his dry lips as loving warmth sprouted in his heart.

"Leave us," Whyllem pronounced. Rhen looked on, amused to see his normally playful brother so commanding. He wore the red robes of the king, almost bright enough to match his hair. But no crown rested on his head, and no ruby seal decorated his finger. A king regent, not a king.

More so, Rhen noticed that his overcoat was black, decorated with golden threads. A little bit of glitter that could not outshine the mourning. Dark circles dipped from his brother's weary eyes, and his entire person slumped as soon as the heavy doors closed behind him. Older. That was the only word that came to mind. As though his brother had aged years rather than what Rhen hoped was only days since he had last been awake.

"Rhen," Whyllem said, excited in a way that was almost heavy. He walked over and gripped Rhen's arm, tight and clenching, while his lips wobbled and his eyes filled with moisture. "You're finally awake."

Rhen lifted his weak arm, bringing his free hand around to clasp his brother's grip. They remained still for a moment, Rhen basking in the affection he rarely received, until his brother blinked and stepped back, sniffling.

"Are they gone?" Rhen asked. He did not need to clarify. Whyllem looked at the floor and reached behind for the chair by Rhen's bedside—a reach that looked familiar, as though second nature by now.

"Father and Tarin have both passed," he said, throat tight, as though he had to fight to get the words out. "We held the death rites little over a week ago."

Whyllem looked up, meeting Rhen's stare. His pain was echoed in the eyes of his brother—one set hazel, one set emerald, but both clouded over and gray. "I wanted to wait," his brother's voice cracked slightly, "but we couldn’t. No one knew when or if you would wake, and Mother, Awenine… The women needed it, needed to be able to say goodbye."

So did his brother, Rhen knew, taking in the exhausted tone. Still, his blood boiled slightly. Rhen could be angry if he let himself. Could be furious that they did not wait for him to wake, did not give him the chance to say goodbye to his brother and to his father. But in truth, Rhen was hardly surprised. He had always been the forgotten one. So instead of yelling he just nodded, granting his brother forgiveness for proceeding without him—a small gift, but one he was in a position to give.

His family had endured much in his absence, especially his brother, adopting a position of power that he had never been groomed for, never prepared for. Rhen did not envy him. King was a role neither of them had ever wanted to play, especially king to a crumbling regime. He would do whatever he could to lighten the load.

"Whyllean?" Rhen asked, moving on to lighter topics. Grief, he always felt, was better left to lonely times, when no one else could read the pain.

His brother smiled and a little bit of light reentered his eyes. "The baby is perfect, a bundle of joy in this place that so desperately needs it. He will make a fine king one day."

"Until then, you'll do," Rhen teased, trying to maintain the bright mood, to make it last an instant longer.

"I'll try," was Whyllem's solemn reply.

Rhen paused, unsure of how to proceed. He knew what he wanted to ask, and he knew what was proper to ask—what was right, what was princely.

"Whyllem?" His brother blinked, refocusing his gaze, retreating from the thoughts that had taken hold. Rhen should ask about the rebellion, inquire about the war, question if the Ourthuri were knocking on their doors. But as usual, his royal side lost the battle and his impatience took over. "My friend, the oldworlder that traveled with me. What happened to hi—" Rhen stopped himself. Swallowed. "Her?"

Whyllem frowned, leaning back while confusion flooded his gaze. "Why?"

"Last I remember, she had been lying beside me in the rubble, not quite dead but not alive either."

Rhen's heart pounded faster as Whyllem's gaze narrowed. His palms began to sweat. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

"Rhen, she tried to kill you," his brother said. Rhen sucked in a breath. No, they would not have… "She stabbed you, she almost stabbed Mother."

"What?" Rhen gasped, sitting up in protest, even as his body screamed at him to be still. "No, that's not, who told you that?"

"I saw it, plain as day. You doused the fire and she ran toward you, clothed in some sorcery of a disguise. An instant later, you had fallen to the ground, and a knife was at Mother's throat."

Rhen grabbed his brother's shirt, half threatening, half holding himself upright. But what could he say? That he was wrong, that it had been a phantom shadow, that their own mother had stabbed him? The ramblings of a mad man. Rhen loosened his hold, but did not let go. Settling on the one thing he desperately needed to know, he asked, "Did you kill her?"

Whyllem detached himself, forcing Rhen back to the pillows with one hard shove. Still older. Still in charge. "No," he said, and Rhen instantly relaxed, allowing himself to breathe. "She was locked up with the other traitors, waiting for questioning. I believe she waits still."

"In the dungeons?" he asked, horror making his voice shallow. He had seen people in the dungeons, heard them beg for mercy, covered their lifeless bodies when their will to survive had given out. Every knight in the kingdom had spent his share of time down there—on the side of the victor. A memory strong enough to keep grown men in line, to keep rules from being broken, for no one wanted to visit those dungeons on the side of the defeated. "For how long? How long have I been asleep?"

"Almost three weeks."

"The gods!" Rhen cursed softly, lifting his hands to his face, rubbing hard, trying to wash the reality away. Three weeks? A lifetime in the dark, enough to drive a man insane. But she was a woman, he remembered, a woman who had been through more already than one person should, and it still had not been enough to break her.

"Bring her to me," Rhen ordered, uncovering his face, meeting his brother's hard gaze with iron of his own.

"Rhen," Whyllem warned. And he understood what that tone entailed, but his brother had it all wrong. This was not romantic. This was not about her being an oldworlder not fit to wed a royal prince. This was about saving the life of someone who had saved Rhen time and time again, no matter the state of their friendship—or current lack thereof. He owed her…everything.

"Whyllem." There was no budge in his voice, no relenting. His brother would heed his command, king regent or not.

Whyllem sighed and leaned back, turning away from Rhen to the door, recognizing his younger brother's unbreakable stubbornness.

"Guards," he shouted. The door immediately opened and a member of the king's guard poked his head through.

"My Liege?"

"Get the girl from the prisons, the oldworlder, and bring her to—"

"My sitting room," Rhen interrupted. Whyllem nodded his consent and the guard bowed, swiftly closing the door and moving into action.

"Rhen," Whyllem began, but Rhen was in no mood to talk about Jin any longer. Not when he knew exactly what his brother wanted to say.

"What of the war?" he interrupted, changing the subject. "Have the Ourthuri landed on our shores? Do we know where their armies gather? What has been our response? Do we know which cities of Whylkin still align themselves with the crown?"

Questions rolled off his tongue, quick and sharp. His body might be ill, but his mind was not. The fight was not over—quite the opposite in fact. It had just begun. At least, he hoped so.

Whyllem leaned back in his chair, weary, taking a deep breath. "I'm afraid, Rhen," he said softly, almost so Rhen could not hear, but he did. And he heard the defeat in his brother's voice.

"Tell me," Rhen urged. Whyllem and Tarin had always had minds for politics, but it was Rhen who had always had the mind for war. Why would his older brothers have studied it? In a strong, unified kingdom there was no need. But Rhen, somehow in the back of his mind, had always known this day would come and had prepared for it.

"Roninhythe, Fayfall, and Lothlian have unified with the Ourthuri against us. Ostemeade, trapped geographically between Roninhythe and Lothlian, has declared neutrality and will not fight for either side. Airedale remains silent, as does the mountain city of Brython. I doubt we can expect aid, but I have sent messengers nonetheless. I'm waiting to hear if they will at least help guard the Straits against a sea attack, fighting only the Ourthuri and none of our own countrymen."

Rhen sighed, letting the words sink in. "The Straits still hold?"

Whyllem nodded. "A small victory. I sent men to the watchtowers the morning after the Naming, and thus far the Ourthuri have not tried to break through."

"So where are they?" Rhen asked in disbelief. A small set of men would not hold the Straits for very long, not if the Ourthuri really wanted to attack.

"At Lothlian." Whyllem exhaled and then pursed his lips, rage flickering across his features, shadowing them. "The Ourthuri gather there, along with the armies of Roninhythe, Lothlian, and Fayfall, preparing to march on Rayfort." He looked up, eyes hooded. "They outnumber us, Rhen, three to one at least and maybe more. Our men are more skilled, more experienced, but I'm not sure what that means against size."

"If we can hold the city, it will mean everything," Rhen said, reaching out to rest his palm on his brother's shoulder, feeling nothing but tension in those coiled muscles. "But we must be prepared."

Whyllem set his lips in a thin, determined line, and met Rhen's stare. Hesitation passed between them. This was new territory, a new relationship sprouting to life. Without Tarin, it was just the two of them. And suddenly, it was Rhen's words that held weight, his advice that would guide the kingdom.

Rhen could read the apology in Whyllem's hollow look. Because Rhen had been right, and his family had chosen to ignore him. But he could tell it would never happen again. The ultimate price had already been paid. Two kings dead—a brother and a father. Their family could not afford any more mistakes, could not afford to overlook him any longer.

Whyllem blinked and the moment passed. He swallowed once, as though he understood the transfer that was about to happen, understood that with this one question Rhen would take Tarin's place, and asked, "What would you have me do?"

A lightness entered Rhen's chest, lifting him up and dulling the pain. For a brief instant, he truly felt like he belonged. In this room, in this castle, in this family. An invisible chord somehow linked his heart to his brother's, uniting them for the first time, the way a family should be connected. Tarin was there too, his memory connecting them, a common cause to fight for, an honor to uphold.

"We must put ships in the harbor," he said, pressing past his emotions, "our captains and any merchants that will fight for the crown. The Ourthuri will come through the Straits, it's only a matter of time. And if we want to keep the city, we must hold the White Stone Sea."

"What of the land?"

"The city will fight for itself," Rhen assured, remembering words he told Jin not too long ago. "We have three walls of defense, a landscape that works against foreign invaders, and a complete garrison ready to defend us. Put men on the walls night and day, ready to sound alarm when the enemy becomes visible. Start a mass production of weapons, arrows especially, and swords if we have metal to spare. Collect whatever oil we have and keep it stored near the gates. See what commoners will join us, offer them money or affluence, whichever holds more weight."

Rhen paused, watching Whyllem tick his fingers, counting off chores to do, intently listening to and heeding Rhen's words. Despite the wound cutting his stomach, Rhen felt strong, empowered.

"Whyllem?" His brother looked up, slightly startled at the interruption of his thoughts. "You are king regent. You must relax, even if it seems impossible, you must hide behind a face of ease. Be confident or else we have already lost. Our soldiers must believe we can win, and the only way they will believe that is if we believe it first."

"Do you really think we can?" his brother asked, eyes wide, expression hopeful.

Maybe, Rhen thought to himself. There was always a chance. But he knew what his brother needed to hear. He knew what his people needed to hear. And thoughts of his perfect baby nephew, far too young to be buried underground, made him push all doubts to the side.

"I know it," Rhen said, unwavering and strong. His brother might be king regent, but Whyllem had always been the second son, groomed since infancy to let someone else make all of the decisions. With Tarin gone, it seemed that only Rhen was left to lead him.

His brother smiled, comfort loosening his body. He was back in a role he knew how to play.

A knock sounded, startling them both.

"Enter," Rhen shouted the command. The door opened and one king's guard stepped through.

"The prisoner has been taken to your sitting room, my Lord."

A flurry energized Rhen's heart.

"Good. Thank you," he said, ignoring his suddenly awakened body and turning back to Whyllem.

For a second, Rhen thought Whyllem might speak. Might utter some protest. The urge was in his gaze, Rhen sensed it, the caution. But it passed.

His brother stood, straightening out the red robes around him, and looked down with a soft glance. Trust and slight admiration glinted in those eyes.

"Feel better, brother. I'll be back again soon."

Then he turned, leaving Rhen alone in his bedroom. Alone with his suddenly pounding heart.

Easing slowly up, Rhen's entire side burned. But he did not stop until he slid his feet from the bed and rested his toes on the ground, halting his movement. Cautiously, he lifted his shirt. Which was, he noticed, freshly cleaned and black for mourning.

Inches from his belly button, a red, ragged scar cut across his formerly unwounded stomach. No longer than his finger in size, slightly raised with inflammation, but mostly healed. Such a little thing to cause so much pain, to create so much damage.

But I survived, Rhen thought, letting a grin lift his lips. The shadow had not taken him. It would not take him. It was luck, mostly, that saved his life—Rhen was sure. He had seen men die from smaller wounds than this, saw their skin turn green with infection from an accidental scrape inflicted during a training session.

Luck, he thought, and the woman waiting next door.

Rhen glanced up, across the space at the door to his sitting room, wondering what she might look like, wondering what she had possibly been through while he rested on silk pillows, lost in dreams he couldn't even remember.

There was only one way to find out.

So Rhen stood, immediately stumbling, grasping for the chair to keep himself upright. A shooting pain ran down his side, from his wound to the very tip of the toes on his left leg. His body could barely hold his weight, weak from so many days spent still.

Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward, grunting. His body was ablaze, but he pushed on, shuffling as best he could to cross the space that had seemed small, but now felt like an ocean.

Half falling against the wall, Rhen steadied himself, taking deep breaths, gulping them in before he dared open the door.

I'm a mess. He sighed. Weak was not something Rhen's body was used to. Muscles sore from a day spent in the practice yards, yes. But this? This feeling like he reached in vain for strength, this emptiness—this was new. And he did not like it.

But it would not stop him.

So Rhen stood, biting his inner lip until it almost bled to distract his mind from the pain in his torso, and steadied himself before opening the door before him.

There she was.

Smaller than he remembered, but still strong, still defiant.

His heart clenched, tightening, the longer he took her in. Skinny legs and even skinnier arms, eaten away by lack of food, covered in dirt and dust, stained with sweat yet ridged with goose bumps. Torn clothes hung like rags. And her wrists. Rhen could not stop his eyes from widening in horror, his breath from sucking in sharply.

Ghastly cuts shredded her lower arms, caked over with blood that dried only to run fresh and dry again. Layers that looked dark, while others looked like the color of the royal family, bright and fresh. Jin looked like an unnamed Ourthuri, fresh from having her tattoos removed, skin and all, with no regard for human life.

Tearing his eyes away, Rhen's gaze traveled further. An apology tightened his thoughts, but there were no words he could even think to say.

And then he met her eyes.

Warm, like he remembered. Brown but glowing bright, golden highlights reflecting the sun.

Knowing she was a woman had shifted something. Rhen felt it stir, the sense of change, a desire sprouting to life in his veins. Strong, but new and uncertain. Even at her worst, covered in grime, she looked beautiful to him. All because of those eyes, staring at him like he was a dream, a god come to life, the spirits themselves. Eyes that had spent hours in his dreams when he thought her a princess of Ourthuro, suddenly more powerful now that they belonged to someone he knew, someone he trusted, someone he called a friend.

She bit her lip, and Rhen was pulled from his mind. That move, it was one he had seen Jin do a hundred times. Jin the boy, the unsure lad he had come to think of as a brother.

Against his will, Rhen retreated. The lies flooded his thoughts. The mistruths. The times he had opened himself up like a fool to someone who had only been playing him. Like a poison, it washed the warmth from his body, filling his blood with pain.

She took a step forward.

He could not move a muscle, not closer, not farther away. Stuck.

She halted before him, barely a hand's length away from his body, so small, but not delicate. Not fragile. Stronger than him somehow.

Her hand rose, slowly, so Rhen had time to step away if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Jin's palm came to stop on his cheek, warm and reassuring. Her eyes were hesitant, gazing at him like he might disappear, like he was not real.

On instinct, Rhen's hand followed, holding hers in place as though she too might disappear. He felt his resolve soften the longer he met her stare. He had seen his friend, this friend, in pain too many times. It had become second nature to want to ease her hurt. Boy or girl, in that moment it hardly mattered—he would do what was needed to erase the ever-present haunt in her gaze.

"You're alive?" she asked, awed.

Rhen smirked, feeling his lip rise on its own, as he spoke the truth to the one person he had always been able to speak the truth to. "Barely."

And with that, his body rebelled, giving out and slipping toward the floor.

As usual, Jin caught him, saved him.

But Rhen felt her arms wobble, her body shake. And before he knew it, they were both on the ground, a mass of arms and legs. Two pairs of pain-filled groans echoed across the sitting room, bouncing around the empty walls, until finally Rhen had no choice but to laugh.

"We make a sorry pair." Rhen sighed, using his elbow as an anchor against the ground to hold his chest up.

He looked over to find Jin smiling. Silent, but still smiling.

Using the back of a chair for leverage, Rhen pulled himself upright while Jin slowly got to her feet, turning on her side and using all four limbs to ease upward.

"Do you want to sit?" Rhen asked, unsure of what to say.

"Yes," she murmured.

They both collapsed into separate pieces of furniture, taking a second to still their exerted breaths. But the silence continued, extending further. Jin kept her eyes on the ground and Rhen watched, completely uncertain of what to say, of where to begin.

Apologize for his brother? Demand her answers? Thank her for fighting the shadow? Every instinct was at odds with the other.

"Rhen."

"Jin."

They spoke at the same time, and then stopped, only strengthening the silence until the room felt heavy.

"It's Jinji," she said softly, looking up at him cautiously. "My real name, it's Jinji."

"Jinji," he whispered. It seemed more feminine, rolling off of his tongue, but still odd to his newworlder ears. Or maybe just odd because it meant even her name had been a lie. "I'm sorry," he said. Not clarifying. He wasn't even sure what it meant. Sorry for the awkwardness? Sorry for the dungeons? Sorry that he could not forgive her, not totally, not yet? He chose one, the easiest option. "I'm sorry that they locked you up in there, for all of the pain you must have endured."

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Met his eyes again, squinting. "So you did not know I was there?"

He flinched, taken aback. "Of course not, Jin—Jinji. I only just awoke. I promise, I ordered you removed as soon as I heard the news."

"Thank you." She shuddered, hugging her arms in close. But something about her seemed more at ease somehow.

It grew quiet again.

"I'm sorry too, Rhen," she said.

But it did not ease his pain. Quite the opposite. Hearing her admit it, admit to all of the lies, it made the betrayal burn. Brought it right back to the front of Rhen's mind so he could not ignore it any longer.

Was he ready to hear this? To hear every lie? To question every aspect of their friendship? To feel it ripped away, one mistruth at a time?

No. Rhen was not.

He was not ready to say goodbye to the memories he used to blanket his doubt, to the first true friend he had ever known, to the first few weeks in his life where he felt like he belonged. To the boy who had become his younger brother, brought back from the grave.

No, he was not ready to say goodbye to that. He had buried too many brothers already.

"I," Jinji started, but Rhen interrupted.

"Guards," he yelled toward the door at the far side of the room, startling Jinji. She winced as the door opened, revealing the same guard who had escorted her here from the dungeons below. Rhen felt his resolve weaken, but he pushed on. "Please escort Lady Jinji to her own rooms. Tell the maids to prepare a warm bath and fresh clothes. Make sure she wants for nothing."

"Yes, my Lord."

Rhen looked at her one more time, utter confusion coiling his stomach in knots, and then turned away, easing to his feet.

The guards would respect her now if they didn’t before, with the prince commanding she be treated as a lady of the court. And for now that was enough, Rhen told himself.

Yet, despite his resolve, Rhen felt his heart drop as the door shut, leaving him alone once more. More alone than ever before.

3

JINJI

~ RAYFORT ~

The air was warmer than she remembered. Could three weeks in the damp dark really make such a difference? Or did the sun beat down harder on this gleaming city, blinding, boiling?

Jinji sighed as a breeze tickled her cheek, slipping through the open window, bringing a patch of goose bumps to her glistening forearm. The spirits were whispering to her, reassuring her. Though she was stuck in this castle, the far off promise of trees and grass and blue skies waited. She yearned to run.

But she wouldn't. Not this time. Not again.

"Oh, Rhen," Jinji murmured.

Two days had passed since she last saw him. Days of silence. Days of solitude in ways more deafening than the prison cell. His eyes haunted her. Their pain. Their confliction. Rhen had been so close to forgiving her. Jinji had sensed it in the softness of his voice. But then those eyes hardened, tightened, closed up and he was gone, sending her away to a new cell.

Jinji looked around. It was not the same room she had last stayed in—this one was clearly meant for a woman. But not a woman like Jinji, a woman of the court. Silky dresses sat untouched in the closet. Makeup rested unused on the tabletop. Shimmering jewels lay still in unopened boxes.

In the dungeons, everyone at least was the same. Vermin. But here, Jinji felt her otherness like a wound. Already, Rhen was treating her differently. Not as a friend, but as a foreigner. As a woman he did not know what to do with.

Jinji hugged the silk robe tighter around her body and curled her knees into her chest, turning her gaze back out the window. This robe was the only garment she could figure out how to wear—the dresses and their buttons were beyond her. But without real clothes, like the pants she yearned for, Jinji was stuck in this room until someone came to help her.

I can help you, the voice whispered across her thoughts, sleek and smooth, somehow natural.

Jinji had not heard from the voice since she left the dungeon. In fact, she had almost believed it gone, a phantom of madness from being trapped in the dark.

Go away, she ordered.

Just listen to me, unless you have something better to do…

Jinji could almost feel the phantom mocking her, gazing around the empty room, somehow aware that she was completely and utterly alone. Lifting her head from the wall, Jinji paused. Slam back and force the voice from her thoughts? Or sit and listen, giving in to the insanity?

The voice would just return. Jinji was certain of that now more than ever. But perhaps if she listened, she could be free of the infiltrator. Maybe then her mind would be her own once more.

Impatience invaded her senses, foreign, spreading quickly.

What did the voice want so badly to tell her?

With a deep breath, Jinji leaned softly back. I'm going crazy, she thought, resolved but also curious.

No, you're not, it said. Jinji jolted, shocked that it could read her thoughts so easily, ones she had not directed at it. You would know that if you just listened to me.

"Who are you?" Jinji asked. Somehow, saying the words aloud made her feel more secure, more separated from the voice.

I am the spirit dragon, guardian of all living things. But I am also you. We are two souls trapped in the same human body. It is my power you use to weave the elements, my life force you channel to commune with the spirits.

"How do I know you're not the shadow?"

My shadow-self, the shadow dragon, is the guardian of all souls. I am his spirit-self. We are opposite sides of the same force. Whereas I weave the elements to create everything you see around you—the trees, the sea, the animals, the humans too—he fills my creations with souls, bringing them true life.

"I don't understand," Jinji said, shaking her head.

I have been with you for your entire life, but only recently in full. When you touched my shadow-self, you freed my soul from his grasp, allowing me to come fully alive in this world. Have you not noticed that your powers have grown stronger? They will. You have only touched the surface of what we're capable of.

Jinji's mind wandered back to the dungeons, to the illusions she wove of Rhen holding her, embracing her. His arms had felt solid. His touch had been real enough to hold her weight. Far different from the illusions of Janu she used to weave in the clearing. Those were made of air giving no resistance as her fingers slid deftly through.

But this voice, true as the statement might be, did not have her trust. Not yet. Jinji would admit nothing. "But why are you here? Why are you inside of me?"

That is a long story…

"As you said, I have nothing better to do."

There is much for you to learn, many more important things. Do you know of the three realms? That is where we must begin.

Jinji shook her head. Three realms?

Where we are now, this is the spirit realm, the realm of all living things and the place I guard. But there is a secondary realm, the shadow realm, the land of souls. When a human or animal dies in the spirit realm, their soul travels to the shadow realm to rest until it is time for rebirth. And those two realms are tied by a third, the ether. The shadow dragon lives there, transporting souls between the two realms. And when I die, my soul returns to the ether to wait for rebirth. It is the only place where my shadow-self and I are supposed to commune, where we live in our proper form, the only place we can be together without destroying the balance.

"But he is here," Jinji whispered.

Yes, he is. And that is the problem.

"He's killing people," she said, louder. The faces of her tribe ran across her mind. Leoa. Her mother. Her father. Maniuk, with his blank white eyes, possessed and turned into a murderer. She would never forget the self-loathing that filled his brown irises moments before he passed, the sadness he would take with him to his grave, the actions that would haunt him through eternity.

And Rhen. When the knife sunk into his gut, Jinji's own heart bled. He was alive, but countless others across her kingdom were not. They were dying. Or worse, they were already dead, beyond saving.

There is more at stake than the lives of a few humans, the voice responded, hard and harsh, freezing her thoughts.

"A few humans?" Jinji repeated, voice airy and full of disbelief.

I know you have suffered. I've seen it.

"Seen it?" Jinji mocked. "But did you feel it? Was your soul also broken, shattered into a million pieces, so far gone you worried you might never recover it?"

For a moment, she thought the voice might confess. A hesitant buzz filled her mind, a foreign sensation. Words waited in that electricity, words she somehow knew held importance.

But the spirit remained silent.

Jinji was not the only one with secrets, the only one without trust.

"Can you help me kill it?" she asked.

My shadow-self cannot be killed, just as I cannot. But he can be sent back to his realm.

"How?"

Just as I am tied to your body, he has a human host. We must find that host and kill it.

"But he kills his hosts. He possesses their bodies and then he kills them."

Not them. He is the guardian of souls, so, just as I can control the elemental spirits, he can take control of human souls. But somewhere, his original body lives, the one his soul is connected to, the one that keeps him in this world.

"How can we possibly find it?" Jinji asked, hope quickly evaporating with the scale of her task. How could she find this one person? He could be anywhere, in Whylkin, in Ourthuri. He could be a she. Or even a child. Could she kill a child?

You must open your mind to me. You must let me fully in.

Jinji paused, eyes narrowing. "How will that help? Why can't we continue speaking like this?"

You must trust me. With our minds merged, we will be able to find him. You will have all of my memories and all of my powers.

But would the voice then have control? Would Jinji lose herself? Would she forget her life, her people, her family, Rhen?

Jinji fused her lips shut, letting her mind wander and hoping the spirit could not read all of her private doubts. Standing free of the windowsill, she stepped backward until her legs hit the edge of the bed and she sat, sinking into the soft cushion. Her thoughts were too consumed to process the movements of her body.

Trust.

The voice only appeared after she touched the shadow. All Jinji could remember was the barest brush of her fingers on the queen's possessed skin, one slight contact with the shadow, and the next memory was of waking in the dungeon.

Trust.

Why?

What if all of these words were lies? Near truths meant to gain her trust so the shadow could take control? So it could possess her, removing the only person who might be able to kill it?

There had been no reports of strange deaths. Of course, she had been trapped in a dungeon, cut off from the world, but still. The shadow had wanted Rhen dead, and what better time than when he was unconscious and she was locked behind bars. Yet Rhen lived. Which meant the shadow might be contained.

What if it was trapped inside of her? What if the deaths had stopped because the shadow was stuck in her mind and not free to roam the world, to possess other people?

Trust.

Jinji had lost too much to give such a prized gift away so freely. Until she had proof that this phantom was not the shadow, until she heard of more deaths, she could not trust this mysterious voice.

In one swift movement, Jinji slammed her head against the wall, wincing as pain zapped her nerves.

Wait…

But, as Jinji intended, the voice faded out into silence as though falling down a long hole, sound slowly disappearing into the distance, pulled away by the ache.

If they were lies, Jinji would hear no more of them. If they were truth, well, then time would only validate what the voice had said. Rashness was not something Jinji could afford. Not when the legacy of her people was on the line. Not when human lives, like Rhen's, were on the line.

A knock sounded.

Jinji jolted, head whipping toward the door.

"My lady?" It was a hesitant, feminine voice.

Jinji grinned, standing, hugging the robe even tighter to her body. Perhaps her prayers for aid had finally been answered. "Enter."

The door slowly eased open and behind it stood a servant in dull beige skirts with a tray of fruit in her hands.

"I was told you asked for me, my lady? I brought your breakfast as well, if I may come in?"

"Yes," Jinji murmured, stepping to the side and out of the way, suddenly shy, "please."

The girl kicked the door closed behind her and set the tray down on a nearby table. Picking up a silver pot, she poured a cup of tea, steam rising to the ceiling, and set the silverware out on a perfectly crisp napkin. Then she turned, careful to keep her head pointed at the ground in respect. But her eyes, those she could not completely control, and Jinji saw them flick to her wrists before widening and jumping quickly to the floor.

"Do they look so bad?" Jinji asked, her own gaze falling to her hands. Pulling the hem of the sleeves up, Jinji twisted her wrist, moving it in circles. The pain was mostly gone. Until now, she hardly remembered they were there.

The day before, a member of the guard had brought a balm to her room, a natural remedy. Upon using it, the blood stopped oozing, the redness started to dull, but dark slashing scars still encircled her wrists, permanent bracelets. A reminder of how powerless she was in the realm of kings without Rhen to keep her safe. Her illusions were just that—imaginary.

"No, my lady," the servant reassured. But a quiver of nerves laced her tone, proving her response was more from fear than from truth.

"It's okay." Jinji sighed. "I asked you here for another reason. Would you help me put on a dress?"

A small smile crossed the girl's lips, the barest hint of laughter. "Of course, my lady. Which one?"

Jinji shrugged, leaning back on the bed, resisting the urge to curl into a little ball at the daunting thought of the garments hidden in her closet. Life as a boy was so much easier. "You choose."

After a moment, the girl emerged, half-hidden behind a mountainous deep blue skirt.

"Is there anything…" Jinji paused, biting her lip. "Smaller?"

The servant disappeared again, and when she reappeared, a light grin pulled at Jinji's cheek. This dress would do.

The fabric was a pale yellow, the color of the sky just as the sun was rising. A shade lighter than gold but just as rich, fresh honey against her brown skin. Two days of sitting by the window staring longingly at the outdoors had brought some color back to Jinji's cheeks, color that this dress would only accentuate. Some people, she was sure, would stare. But she was an Arpapajo—she was different, and she was proud to embrace her heritage.

Letting the robe drop to the ground, Jinji stepped into the center of the skirt as the girl held it open. The sleeves came all the way to her knuckles, hiding the scars. Her fingers barely slipped through the end. Sucking in a sharp breath, Jinji tried not to wince as the laces were secured behind her back and the buttons tightened, giving her almost no room to breathe.

She missed her leather hides. The comfort of soft animal furs, the ease of throwing them on, the agility more space provided. Or better yet, the pants Rhen had lent her, perfect for dashing down city streets or climbing swaying ropes.

But even Jinji couldn't stop her throat from catching as her eyes found the mirror. Even with her hair barely reaching her ears and her weight depleted from time spent in captivity, there was a womanly air about her. For the first time in a long time, she felt like a girl. And somehow, Jinji found she had missed it.

"Thank you," she whispered, before looking at the servant girl again. "What is your name?"

"Beatrice, my lady."

"Would you mind returning, Beatrice, to help me again?"

"Of course, my lady."

And just like that, Jinji didn't feel quite so alone. Even after Beatrice left, the warmth remained, a small comforting fire in the pit of her stomach. They wouldn't be friends. Not really. But it was enough to know that someone else besides Rhen might have a nice word to say about her, might care even the tiniest amount.

Assuming Rhen did care.

He did.

He had to.

Yet Jinji was torn, standing in the middle of the room, gaze shifting between the open door and the now familiar spot below the window. Butterflies filled her stomach, spreading up her throat, drying her mouth.

Was she ready for Rhen to see who she really was? What she really was?

He knew who she was, knew it better than anyone else left in the world. But what she was, that was completely new, and somehow their last encounter didn't seem to count. Jinji had been covered with dirt, somewhat delirious, completely weak. Her clothes were in tatters, hanging loose across her thin frame.

But this dress, though covering her skin, left little to the imagination. Her breasts, small as they might be, were undeniable. Her thin womanly neck was on display, framed from the collarbone up. No smudges masqueraded the feminine curve of her cheeks, the plumpness of her full lips. And though her fingers ached to weave a strong illusion, to hide behind her brother's face once more and pretend to be Jin, pretend nothing had changed, she couldn't.

Everything had changed. And there was no going back.

Squaring her shoulders, bringing steely resolve to her nerves, Jinji marched forward and closed the door behind her. Cowardice was not an option.

Though she had no idea where to go, Jinji walked. One foot in front of the other, over and over, until she had taken so many turns that she could not return to her room even if she wanted to.

Stares followed her from hallway to hallway, burning her back, sending painfully aware shivers up and down her spine. The guards, the servants, other nobles. Each glare seemed to label her as something different. Murderer. Traitor. Prisoner. Foreigner. Woman. Each accusing in their own hurtful way.

Eyes focused only on the white stone beneath her feet, Jinji trudged on, trying her hardest to ignore it. But she couldn't. Soon her feet began to race, to lunge, until she found herself running with no destination in mind but one singular thought—escape.

Breath short, Jinji flew through an open door onto a breezy overpass. Slamming her back against the wall, she stopped, inhaling, exhaling, letting the fresh air wash over her and the smell of grass calm her. Hidden in the shadow of a column, Jinji closed her eyes and leaned her head back, pretending no one was around, pretending she sat in her forest clearing, alone, content…accepted.

"If you would like to be invisible, my dear, it would be best to try to blend in."

Jinji's lids shot open as her vision fought to clear, to find the source of the voice. A warm hand landed on her forearm, small, decorated with ruby rings.

"Your Majesty," Jinji whispered, voice lost as her eyes met the brilliant green eyes of the queen—eyes so like Rhen's, eyes Jinji would never forget. The last time she had seen those eyes, they were blanketed with white, possessed by the shadow, forcing the queen to stab her own son in the gut.

"Ladies in this city do not race through the halls. They walk, delicate like a flower so as to be admired by those around us."

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty," Jinji stuttered. The woman before her was absolutely self-assured—back arched as to perfectly display her figure, poised with absolute grace. Nothing like Jinji, cowering in the corner, hiding.

"Come," the queen commanded, tugging on Jinji's arm.

Jinji focused on her steps, keeping pace with the taller woman, waiting anxiously for the conversation to continue. The queen had to have a purpose, a message to send. Otherwise, why seek her out? Why care?

Peeking from the corner of her eyes, Jinji watched Rhen's mother. Her face was relaxed, serene, and perfectly level. Though her eyes danced around the hall, her posture never changed, never faltered. Features like stone, she gave nothing away.

"You are looking for my son, I presume?"

"For Prince Whylrhen, Your Majesty," Jinji responded, infusing slightly more confidence into her tone, despite how odd it felt to say his full title aloud. To her, he would always be Rhen. Just Rhen.

"My son Whyllem seems to think you tried to kill him, myself as well, if he is to be believed."

They stopped walking. Here they were, halfway down the open-air hall and finally arriving at the point. Jinji turned to the queen, waiting for the rest, waiting for her turn to speak.

"My son Rhen believes you saved our lives."

Jinji met her stare, refusing to back down, confidence regained in full.

"I have told them both I don't remember," the queen finished. Yet a tremor filled her voice, making it wobble, unstable. And the older woman's fingers shook. Quickly, she clasped them together in front of her waist, stilling the shiver. But it was too late to hide. In that instant, Jinji knew those delicate hands remembered the feel of the blade as it punctured Rhen's skin, as it twisted, as it made him bleed. Deep down in those emerald eyes, a haunt remained, the memory of what she had done.

Which meant the queen knew the truth. She knew Jinji had never deserved to be locked away in the dungeon, and she knew Rhen would give fury a new meaning if he ever found out.

"I am just glad you are both alive, Your Majesty." Jinji smiled, innocent, giving nothing away. Eyes locked, they continued to stare at each other, neither bending, neither breaking. The silence stretched, demanding to be filled, sizzling with electricity. But unless the queen admitted to wrongdoing, Jinji would grant her no respite.

"Yes, well," the queen finally murmured, looking away, flustered under the weight of Jinji's unspoken accusation—or by the weight of her own guilt. "If you were looking for my son, you have found him. He is in the practice yards just below this pass, foolhardily attempting to regain his strength."

And with that, the queen turned and left. Not running, but—Jinji couldn't help but notice—her pace was not that of the slow, meandering flower she previously spoke of.

A secret smile widened Jinji's lips. She had faced the queen and won. No one in these halls could hurt her, not their stares, not their accusations. Jinji was armed with the truth, and with that knowledge in her heart, secure in the person she was, no one could touch her.

Confidence bubbling down her body, pulsing like waves, giving her renewed strength, Jinji walked to the stone rail. Her ears began to pick up the clang of swords, the grunt of painful exhales, the banter of men. How had she not heard it before?

Leaning out, letting the sun wash over her face, Jinji searched the grounds far below her feet.

In no time at all, her eyes found the person they searched for. In the center of a circle of men, Rhen faced a single foe. His sword was raised even with his eyes as his feet slowly circled to the left, not relenting, keeping even pace with his match. Sweat deepened the color of his flaming hair, glistened over the contours of his muscles.

Suddenly he paused.

Jinji's breath caught. She swallowed, heart racing with anticipation. There was no more running.

She was a woman, and it was time for Rhen to see that too.

Movements in slow motion, his head shifted up, up, up, until his forest green eyes landed on hers and widened with surprise. Dumbstruck, his arm dipped, sword sliding closer and closer to the ground as every other part of his body became utterly still.

Jinji wanted to smile, to wave hello, to do something. But her limbs felt heavy, fat, unable to move.

Then she wanted to yell, to shout a warning, to tell him that his opponent was about to strike. But she was too late and too far away to help.

In the end, all she did was wince as the practice sword landed on his head and Rhen fell like a clump of rocks to the ground.

4

RHEN

~ RAYFORT ~

Rhen was not prepared for the sight of her in a gown. Brilliant as the sun in her golden silks, radiantly looking down at him with a small smile on her full lips—lips he had never noticed before but suddenly consumed his thoughts. Round. Plump. He was sure they would be soft to the touch, and oh yes he wanted to touch them.

For a long time.

Many times.

Over and over.

His body was stuck by the idea, glued in place. Though he knew in some part of his brain that he faced an opponent who was currently swinging a sword at his head, the functioning half of his brain was long gone, trapped by those sparkling eyes staring down at him from above.

Jin. Jinji.

Familiar and foreign at the same time, but in that moment, he didn't care. In that moment, she was just the most beautiful thing he could ever recall laying eyes on.

But then pain exploded in his head, and Rhen found himself staring at the grass instead, black dots invading his vision, dark stars twinkling in and out of existence.

"My Lord!" came the strangled cry of his opponent.

But Rhen raised his arm, signaling silence, signaling to be left alone. Rolling over onto his back, Rhen's eyes turned toward the overpass, but Jinji was gone, almost like one of the spirits she so dearly clung to.

Idiot, he cursed and shook his head, determined to redeem himself later on, at dinner perhaps. But first he had to get up.

Gritting his teeth, Rhen slowly lifted his torso. Pain flared down his spine the higher he rose, but he was determined to prove his strength. At least to himself.

"Ow," he muttered, feeling his head for the bump he was sure would soon rise. In truth, this was a much-needed break, no matter how it began. Body burning, Rhen's muscles were tight, screaming at him to take it easy. But Rhen knew only how to push himself to the limit, and after so many days at rest, all the exertion was a shock to his system. The scar on his stomach flamed like live fire on his skin. Only this fire hurt, stinging painfully rather than slipping easily underneath his pull.

"Prince Whylrhen, brought down by the mere sight of a woman. I never thought I would see the day," a voice called softly. A familiar voice.

Rhen looked up, a smile stirring on his lips as his old friend's face came distinctly into view.

"Cal?" he asked, reaching out his hand.

A firm grip took hold of his fingers, pulling Rhen to his feet and then into a tight, brotherly embrace.

"I thought you were dead," Cal murmured, tone ringing with relief.

"I thought," Rhen began, but then paused. I thought you were a traitor.

Cal pulled back, eyes down turned, as though he had read Rhen's thoughts. But perhaps those were his thoughts as well. Cal's father, after all, was an enemy of the kingdom. The Lord of Roninhythe was responsible for the death of Rhen's father and brother, and who knew whom else. The war was just beginning. There were many more battles to come.

"Can we talk, away from the practice yards? There is much I wish to explain, to…" Cal trailed off, words lost in the awkwardness of where to even begin.

"Yes." Rhen nodded, slapping his friend on the shoulder.

Shrugging off the pain, Rhen handed the wooden practice sword to one of the soldiers. He took it without a word of goodbye, with no camaraderie, none of the usual lightheartedness Rhen found on the practice grounds.

Something had changed. Rhen felt it when he first arrived this morning, the sensation buzzed even stronger as he was leaving. The men did not treat him as one of them, as they used to. There was a separateness enshrouding him, a sense of seclusion.

At first, he thought maybe it was his new position in life—the fact that he was suddenly the second son, closer to the throne and to power than ever before. But then he saw the slight fear in their eyes, the trepidation in the air whenever he grunted in pain from one of their strikes. They were afraid of him. And Rhen only had one explanation.

The fire.

Before he was stabbed, before he met the shadow, Rhen had faced the traitorous lords of his homeland. And the only way he was able to protect his family was to start a fire, make it rage, and then remove it—pulling the flames under his skin, absorbing them in a way that was so natural to him, but so unnatural to everyone else. That sorcery had labeled him as something more than human to the guards who had seen it, and Rhen could only imagine how fast that rumor spread, how magnified it became with each retelling. The castle walls that used to seem a cage were now a safe haven, because beyond those white stones, a populace waited. He used to be the golden boy of Whylkin, but Rhen understood how quickly a reputation could change, and deep down he knew his was tainted forever.

Still, glancing at Cal as they walked beside each other inside the castle, Rhen hoped that not all things had changed. Too much already had. His station. His life. His friendship with Jin. His relationship with his family. His rapport with the people. But maybe not this. Perhaps Cal could be the one steady rock in a sea of altered realities.

They found an empty sitting room.

"Rhen," Cal began, but then paused, searching for the words. He ran a hand through his sandy-brown hair. Rhen noticed that the normally perfectly tied back locks were messy, out of order and uncontrolled. "Rhen, I don't even know where to begin. I am so sorry for my father. I hope you know I was not a part of his plans, I did not realize how deep his hatred ran. I heard him, of course, cursing the crown as I grew up and discussing the glory days of our city. But I never thought, never even dreamed, he would do something like this. You must believe me."

"I do," Rhen insisted, and he meant those words. If there were any doubt that Cal had been part of his family's treachery, Whyllem would have kept him locked in the dungeons. Either that or his head might now grace a spike at the front gates along with the other traitors who had been killed.

"I was with the other lords when it happened, making our way from the Naming Ceremony to the banquet hall. No one knew what was going on, it was madness, and then all of a sudden, some of the lords grabbed swords and charged the guards. The women ran screaming. I was dumbstruck, confused, and then I saw my uncle stab a king's guard in the chest and I understood. And I…" Cal's voice grew hushed, while his head shook back and forth with denial.

Rhen remained silent, waiting for the difficult words to be said. He had never seen Cal so ill-composed, so stressed. His friend was the rule-follower, the nervous good guy who tried, and often failed, to keep Rhen in line.

"I killed him, Rhen, my own uncle."

Rhen winced. Now he knew why Whyllem believed Cal's innocence, perhaps not just from the confession, but a haunt filled his eyes. And no traitor could possibly look so lost, so unsure, so hurt.

"It's okay, Cal," Rhen said, "I'm glad to have my friend back. I do not blame you for your father's actions. I don't blame you for their deaths."

He did not have to clarify. At his words, Cal visibly relaxed—muscles uncoiling as his shoulders hunched with release.

"Thank you, Rhen," he whispered, "I will never forget this."

Silence stretched for a minute, neither sure of where the conversation should go next. To Cal's father? To the war? To childhood memories?

"Can I ask you something?" Rhen finally spoke.

"Anything." Cal's gaze rose from the floor.

"What are they saying about me?"

Cal closed his eyes for a long moment, knowing what Rhen meant—years of friendship had made mind reading an inevitability for the two of them.

"There are mixed messages spreading throughout the city," Cal began diplomatically, "some believe you to be the hero of Whylkin…"

"But?" Rhen prodded.

"But others claim that the war began because of your sorcery."

"What?" Rhen jumped, head flipping quickly toward Cal's in shock. "They believe I started it?"

"A few. No one knows what happened behind those closed doors aside from you, Whyllem, and the rebellious lords that escaped." Cal shrugged.

The truth was harsh, but he would do Rhen no favors by hiding it, and Rhen knew that. Still, the words were hard to hear, to absorb, when all he had been trying to do was save them. All he ever tried to do was keep everyone protected, yet somehow, he seemed perpetually labeled in the wrong light. First by his family, and now by his people.

"But mostly," Cal continued, "they are unsure about you. Before, they loved you, but unfortunately, public opinion is a fickle thing. Now, they are wary, afraid you'll bring the flames down on them if they disobey."

"And you?" Rhen asked, voice low, vulnerable.

"I know you love your kingdom and its people, and you will do everything in your power to keep them safe—whatever that power might be. But…" Cal paused. Rolling his thumbs in a few short circles, he stalled. "Why did you never tell me?"

Rhen sucked in a slow breath, filling his lungs as fully as he could, before calmly releasing the air. Jin was the only person he ever openly talked to about his powers. No one before had ever forced the words out of him—but then Jin started a fire in the middle of the ocean, leaving Rhen no choice but to reveal himself. Without that small act, that moment of truth, Rhen might never have told another soul, might never have used the flames to save his family, thereby unveiling his magic. But in telling Jin he had gained confidence, gained the hope that maybe other people would not react so terribly to the truth.

How wrong he'd been.

And now, with everything so raw and uncertain, Rhen had no choice but to speak openly about his most ardently kept secret.

"I was worried," Rhen said with a shrug, bare and honest. "I was worried how you, how anyone would react, if you would even believe me—or worse, learn to be afraid of me. But in truth, what you've heard has likely been far exaggerated. I cannot create fire or wield it. I could not burn this city to the ground or create a wildfire that would destroy our enemy's armies. All I can do is smother a fire that has already been started—it's quite useless in almost every situation."

"Then how did the fire begin?"

Rhen grinned. "The old-fashioned way. I threw oil lamps to the ground and used those flames to light the tables on fire."

"Well, that's far less exciting," Cal joked, leaning back in his chair, eyes dancing with humor but laced with something else—satisfaction, acceptance.

Just like that, the knots tightening Rhen's back eased open. He had told Cal the truth and the world remained unscathed by the confession. Maybe baring his soul would be easier than he thought.

Doubtful. Rhen sighed. There was still a long road ahead.

"Do you think we can beat your father, Cal?"

"Two months ago, I would have said no man could swallow fire. But now, I tend to believe that anything might be possible."

"Me too," Rhen replied, closing his eyes. The lords of his kingdom had turned on them. His father and brother had died gruesome deaths. King Razzaq marched a foreign army on Whylkin soil. An invisible shadow haunted his populace by possessing their souls. And before his eyes, the face of a little boy transformed into that of a mature woman. Anything was possible. Even winning a war despite heavily unfavorable odds.

And something told Rhen that more surprises were yet to come. Ones that would turn his world completely on end.

"Will you do something for me, Cal?" His friend nodded, completely loyal. "If your father tries to send a message, let me know. And keep your ears open to any rumors making their way around the city, I need to remain aware of the views of the common folk. If we lose them, the city will certainly fall."

"I will, Rhen, I'll maintain daily reports and will have them sent to your rooms." Cal nervously clasped his hands in his lap, looking down before meeting Rhen's gaze with a hint of determined resolve. A look Rhen had received from his friend many times before, usually answered by an eye roll.

"Yes," he responded before Cal could even ask, "I will try my best to stay alive."

Cal released a sigh, frowning at the flippancy in Rhen's tone. "I know it will be against your nature, but please refrain from making any grand gestures. The last time you acted rashly, you sailed to foreign shores and almost found yourself murdered by an enemy king. And with your father gone, with Tarin gone, the kingdom cannot afford to lose you. And your friends cannot either."

"I promise to be better, Cal, for everyone."

And Rhen meant it, because his friend was right. He was no longer the third son of the king. He was second-in-command to the king regent, a Son of Whyl who could no longer be ignored, a leader his people needed.

Even after Cal left, Rhen sat, lost in his thoughts and the turn he never thought his life would take. Looking back, he realized how naïve he had been, how foolish. Sure, the information he gathered had been correct but no one really bothered to listen, no one acted on it, his words did not help in any substantive way. The traitorous lords still killed his father. King Razzaq still marched on his home. And the kingdom was hastily preparing for a war it had not been ready for.

And what if things had been different? What if Jinji had not escaped the ship, and instead landed dead in the sea along with Captain Pygott and his crew? Would Rhen now be dead? And without him beside them, would the lords have succeeded in killing his entire bloodline?

No, Rhen knew his gallivanting spy days were over. The weight of responsibility was finally so heavy that he could ignore it no longer. The responsibility to embrace his heritage, to become the prince his kingdom needed, to win the war.

But what of the responsibility to his friend, to Jin? What of the quest he promised to help her pursue? The quest that would lead him away from his city, away from his people.

The shadow, Rhen thought, shivering at the memory of his mother's vacant eyes and the somehow sinister emptiness that filled them. Now that Rhen had seen it, he understood its power—he understood that it needed to be stopped.

A tingle tickled the back of his neck.

Rhen blinked, eyes focusing on the floor, pulled from his thoughts by the sudden certainty that he was not alone.

Slowly, Rhen lifted his head, twisting his neck inch by inch to the left, eyes moving carefully over his shoulder toward the source of the sensation. Fear stilled his heart, brought a warm heat to his palms, filled his chest.

A cloud of gray mist swirled in the corner of the room.

Jolting violently, Rhen leapt from his chair, landing in a fighting stance and drawing the knife he always kept in his belt.

The mist did not disappear. The smoky tendrils remained contained in the corner, flowing as though caught in an undulating current, until they spread slowly, branching out at four opposite sides. Gradually, the shape of a man formed.

"What are you?" Rhen asked, stepping closer, knife still at the ready.

There was no response.

Round empty eyes appeared in the center of its head. A mouth moved but created no sound. The thing shook what looked like a face, and then raised its arm, pointing with a translucent finger toward the door.

Are you the shadow? Rhen itched to ask, but a knot in his gut told him this was something else. The shadow possessed souls, but held no form of its own. The shadow was a thing of chaos, of danger. It would not wait to attack. It would not show itself, introduce itself—it certainly hadn't the last time.

But this gray phantom wanted something else, to send a message. The finger continued to point, arm animatedly swaying toward the hall.

Rhen stepped closer, fingers itching to touch the transparent smoke, to see what would happen. But before he got within reach, the phantom jumped back, particles displacing until it was an ovular cloud once more.

And then it was gone.

The mist raced from the room, floating swiftly out the door and into the hall, nearly disappearing from sight.

Questions burning his throat, Rhen had no choice but to chase after it, curiosity more than piqued. As he rounded the doorway, he caught the barest glimpse of a swirling tendril disappearing down the far bend in the hall. Rhen ran, boots pounding against tile, echoing against the silence.

He turned the corner just in time to see the gray mist make a right down another hall. And again. And again. Until Rhen was panting with the exertion, lost in his own home. They had traveled down below the sunlit rooms, underground to the damp bottoms of the castle, a place only servants ever occupied. Rhen grabbed a torch from the wall, holding it aloft as he searched for another sign of the smoke, another clue from the phantom as to where he needed to travel next.

There.

Down the hall, formed into the shape of a man once more, the smoky figure waited, pointing at the wall. Rhen neared, careful to keep his distance lest the figure run away again. But they had reached a dead end. And the creature pointed at nothing but solid white stone, green from so much time in the heavy moist air.

"There is nowhere else to go," Rhen said, unsure if it was a statement or a question.

The phantom jerked its translucent arm toward the wall once more. Adamant. Frustrated. Rhen slammed his fist against the stone, wincing when the wall did not budge. Not that he thought it would…

"Show me," Rhen urged.

The figure dissolved into mist and pushed against the stone, seeping through pores in the rock, disappearing before Rhen's eyes.

"Well, that's helpful," Rhen mused, staring at the wall while he crossed his arms. "I'll just do that."

Tapping his foot, Rhen waited impatiently for the smoke to reappear.

Nothing.

After a few minutes, he gave up. I'm going crazy. He sighed, turning away, determined to forget this little adventure ever happened. No need to be the fire bringer, as well as the lunatic—sometimes the label of prince was difficult enough.

But as the light from his torch passed over the wall, a sliver of a line caught his eye. Bringing the fire closer, Rhen stared, eyes narrowing with focus.

A crack.

Resting between the stones was a crack—long and thin, barely even visible but definitely there. Was that where the phantom disappeared?

Bending down, Rhen found the break in the stone and followed it up, over, back down again. Large and rectangular in shape—did he dare say it was a door?

Not sure if he was losing his mind, Rhen pushed with all of his might against the frame. Which, even with the days spent in bed, should have been enough to open a door.

But nothing.

Stepping back with a curse on his lips, Rhen sighed and looked around, trying to see beyond the halo of light that surrounded him, wondering if a clue waited in the dark. Right at the corner of his vision, a metal sconce rested on the wall.

Brows furrowing, Rhen reached out hesitantly.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered, before yanking on the iron brackets.

The sconce cranked down, releasing a latch, and the door twisted open with a resounding bang. Rhen stood with his mouth hanging open, disbelief widening his eyes. And then a grin crept over his lips and a soft laugh escaped.

Shaking his head, Rhen stepped forward into the narrow passage. After a few minutes, the space widened into a cavernous room. Unlike every other spot in the castle, these walls were a mix of rough gray stone and dirt. And Rhen realized it was not a room built for this palace, but a cave, damp and dripping, naturally existing. Someone, a very long time ago, wanted to access this secret room that his ancestor had buried under a city.

But why?

The mist waited across the space, back in the shape of a man, pointing at the wall. But this time, Rhen knew why. Drawings were scratched into the stone. Rough and coarse, the faint lines were made nearly invisible by the passage of time.

"This is what you wanted to show me?" Rhen asked.

The phantom nodded, seemingly content for the first time since contacting Rhen.

He stepped closer, brushing his fingers over the rock. Crudely drawn men and beasts, that was all he could make out. Four human figures were sketched, and below each lay some sort of animal that Rhen did not recognize. And below each of them, a unique symbol of swirling lines.

Rhen stepped back. More drawings circled the walls in various lines, almost as though it were some sort of language, a foreign one he did not know how to read. More figures of men and women. Something that looked like food. Another symbol that could be weapons. Maybe these were depictions of a great war, an ancient one?

Rhen edged along the wall, taking everything in, but it was a jumble. If this was the phantom's message, he had chosen the wrong recipient. Yet something stirred in the pit of Rhen's stomach, an instinctual understanding. His gut tightened, bringing an ounce of longing to his heart, a strong yearning to his veins, but for what Rhen did not know. All he knew was that something on these walls called out to him—something within him understood the mysterious message.

"What—" Rhen turned, about to ask a question, needing to explore the odd sensations coiling in his muscles.

But he froze.

The phantom winked out of existence, mist dissolving into the air, but it was too late. Rhen had inadvertently touched it. His fingers had brushed just barely through the gray coils, but one small bit of contact was enough.

Ice traveled up his veins, stilling his limbs, hardening his body until he could not move. His heart stopped beating. His breath paused. Rhen's mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Not even a scream. It was as though time had stopped, but the flames on his torch still flickered eerily over the walls.

Off balance, Rhen's body started to tip, slipping slowly over until his weight shifted and the fall came swiftly. The floor slammed against his side, making Rhen's muscles scream in pain, but the burn warmed his frozen body, pushing the chill away. Gradually, his body relaxed, molding against the contours of the ground.

Rhen tested his muscles, breathing heavily as he eased into a seated position.

What in the gods was that?

The figure was gone and far in the distance, Rhen heard bells chime through the castle, calling for dinner. He would find no answers tonight.

But he could find one thing. One person.

Jinji.

She was the only human in the kingdom who would believe him.

5

JINJI

~ RAYFORT ~

Lost again.

Jinji shook her head. The forest always had such obvious signs—dirt padded down by the constant step of feet, tree branches bending in unique shapes, the soft trickle of a stream, or the direction of the breeze. Such easy methods to travel by. In the woods, she was never lost.

But surrounded by white walls, all the same with no character to tell them apart, Jinji was utterly confounded. And she had been so certain of her direction, too.

After watching Rhen fall to the ground, an instinctual gasp escaped her lips and before Jinji even realized she had moved, her feet were carrying her across the overpass and down a staircase. At the time, there seemed no doubt that her movements swept her closer to Rhen, pulled by a mysterious force toward him. But the practice yard never came into view. She could not even find a door to the outside.

And now she wandered, looking for any signs of familiarity, but finding none. The halls were growing more crowded, leaving her increasingly flustered. But Jinji pasted a small smile across her lips, determined after her conversation with the queen never to let these people get the best of her again.

Bells chimed, ringing across the stone.

Jinji jerked with surprise, almost letting the curses she so often heard Rhen mutter escape her lips. But she bit down, containing the frustrated words when she noticed that none of the other men or women around looked the least bit surprised. Instead, they collectively paused, and then moved as one like a rolling tide.

Determined to blend in, Jinji followed the human current as it wove through the castle, still brightly lit by the clear sky just beginning to grow pale from the falling sun. After a while, the stream of people began to slow, congested in one spot until Jinji realized where she had been led.

The dining hall.

Stepping through the massive wooden door, Jinji paused, shifting to the left and out of the way as people filed past her.

A lump clogged her throat.

The last time she had been in this room, Rhen was dying. The memory still stung, causing her breath to slow until she was gasping for air.

The tables were new, barely worn. The walls were blank, waiting for tapestries. Silverware gleamed from the tabletops, sparkling in the candlelight. Yet black scorch marks still decorated the floor, faint but visible. No matter how many times these white stones were polished clean, the memory could not be erased. The castle would never forget, nor would its people.

Eyes following the lines to their center, Jinji stared at the spot where Rhen had sucked the flames into his chest. The spot where he had been stabbed. The spot his blood had pooled, escaping into a circle around his body.

What had everyone else seen when she ran to the queen? A mad woman? A deranged guard? Even with all of the time alone in the dungeons, Jinji never wondered how she had been revealed. Had the spirits exploded around her? What happened in those memories she could not recall? In those long moments that found her transported to the dungeons, hidden out of sight, and invaded by a foreign soul?

Jinji glanced away, lifting her head. There was no reason to dwell on minutes she would never get back. The shadow had stolen them. Eyes focusing, Jinji searched the tables. Men and women sat in familiar groups, chatting casually, not even aware of her existence in the corner, concealed behind the shadow of the open door.

"Jin!"

The shout echoed across the entire room, reverberating, seemingly growing louder as it traveled toward her. The room grew quiet. As one, heads turned, curious and then accusing.

Rhen, oblivious, stood from the head table and ran down the length of the room, boots like thunder in the silence.

"The gods, Jin! I've been looking for you for—"

And then Rhen stopped—stopped talking, stopped moving, maybe even stopped breathing. Everything about him stilled, aside from his eyes, which widened and moved up, then down, along the contours of her body.

Heat flared against her cheeks, making Jinji squirm under his scrutiny. But it was painfully obvious what had happened. For a moment, she had been Jin again—his best friend, his confidant. And then Rhen remembered the truth.

"You can still call me Jin," she whispered, hoping to keep the conversation private from the eagerly listening ears around them.

For a moment, Rhen remained unaffected. Then the left side of his lip rose, bringing a lopsided grin to his face and a slight twinkle to his eyes. "Good," he said, and offered his arm, "because that whole Jinji thing was just a little too much for my newly healed mind to remember."

Heart swelling, Jinji tried to contain her overly excited smile. Instead, she bowed her head, shrinking back just slightly as a new awareness of their closeness hit. Reaching out, she slipped her arm through his, resting her fingers on his forearm.

"Come on," Rhen urged, stepping forward.

Keeping her eyes downcast, Jinji focused on the stones beneath their feet—the way she took two steps for each one of Rhen's, and the way he slowed down to help her keep up. Still, the shiver tickling her spine was difficult to ignore. It whispered that everyone was staring, that eyes were boring through her body. A gentle hum rose through the air behind them, stirring the silence with the buzz of gossip.

Jinji snuck a peek at Rhen, but his eyes were forward, unaware as he marched them unfalteringly closer to the royal table.

"Whylrhen," the queen yelped. Beside her, Whyllem placed his hand out, silencing his mother as he stood.

Rhen halted, finally aware of the scene, and he spared a quick apologetic glance at Jinji—sad, sorry eyes she recognized.

"Brother," he said loudly, so the words would not be misunderstood from any corner of the room. "My guest, Lady Jinji, will be dining with us tonight."

Lady Jinji.

The words rolled over her, sending a sense of calm down her limbs despite the situation. Coming from his lips, they sounded warm—filled with acceptance. And maybe something else, something Jinji would not let herself think on.

"We do not have a place set," the queen commented, voice light as though in jest. But her eyes were hard.

Rhen looked from one side to the other, noting the empty seats—ones his brother and father once filled. "I believe we have room."

"Of course we do. Please, join us," Whyllem added, spreading his arm to the side and welcoming them to sit. His smile was easy, but his gaze held the promise of a future conversation—the content of which Jinji could only imagine. Sure, she was revealed as a woman. And sure, she had been rescued from the dungeon only a few days ago. But still, the hostility overwhelmed her. Why?

Rhen ushered her to the other side of the table, his face somewhat blank. What memories ran through his mind? She itched to find out, but if Rhen wanted her to know, he would offer the words willingly. And knowing what last occurred in this room, they might be too painful, too private, too difficult.

Keeping her lips firmly pressed together, Jinji sat facing the room as Rhen took the chair beside her. Venomous stares nailed her to the wooden seat and she swallowed, trying her best to remain calm. But when the silence grew too great for her to handle, Jinji leaned to the side, murmuring, "Why are they so angry with me?"

Rhen released an airy laugh, not at all filled with humor. "They are not angry with you." He sighed, shaking his head.

"Then what is going on? Is this one of those newworlder things I would not understand?"

"Yes," he said, holding his gaze forward. "My mother, along with every other lord and lady in this room I'm sure, is worried that I am courting you."

Rhen turned, opening his mouth to continue, but his jaw hung limp as their eyes met. Lightning filled Jinji's veins, zapping her every sense to life. For a moment, the room felt brighter, more alive. Heart pounding, she tried to still her suddenly shaking hands.

"But you’re not…" Jinji whispered. The words filled the small space between them, hanging there like a question needing to be answered.

Rhen shook his head slowly, gaze never leaving hers as the heat continued to build between them.

"No," he breathed the word, barely making a sound. Then his eyes dipped down, singeing her lips, drying her throat.

Time seemed to stop.

The room around them disappeared, fading out of existence.

Then Rhen's entire body twitched and he suddenly looked to his plate, breathing heavily. The moment snapped in two—the world flooded back, awareness overwhelming as the stares turned even more accusing.

Rhen coughed. "No, of course I'm not courting you."

In his disbelieving tone, Jinji realized the truth—the words he would not say. How had she not seen them before? An invisible fist punched her gut, releasing all of the air from her stomach, emptying her lungs.

Breathy, she whispered, "A Son of Whyl would never court an Arpapajo."

Rhen scrunched his brows, wincing, but remained silent. He would not deny her words. The meaning behind the hostile stares became so clear. Thoughts rose toward the ceiling, filling the room with a judgmental haze only Jinji's eyes could see. That was what they were all so afraid of—that the prince would want an oldworlder. That was why the queen had sought her out, had questioned her—not because she was afraid Jinji would reveal her secret. Not really. No, she had been afraid that an Arpapajo girl had grown too close to her son, too close to royalty.

Jinji's eyes flicked to her skin, barely visible beyond the hem of her sleeve—a deep copper beside the golden silks. Rhen's coloring had never seemed so pale, even covered with freckles it was undeniably different. A pink flush decorated his cheeks, matching the red highlights in his hair. The opposite of earthy.

Scrunching shaky fingers into a fist, Jinji pulled her hands together and rested them on her lap, trying to contain the fury coiling her muscles.

"I," Rhen started but stopped.

Jinji closed her lids tight, looking away from him before she broke. "Why were you looking for me?" she asked quickly, changing the subject to one less painful.

"What?"

"Before, you said you were looking for me…" Jinji took a long deep breath, clearing her face of any hurt before turning back to Rhen.

Rhen sighed, not at all trying to hide the pain from his features. But Jinji ignored it, not wanting to deal with the questions circling her mind, all melding together and boiling down to one—why?

"I was looking for you, but I can't talk about it here, not with so many people around." His shoulders hunched, falling with defeat.

"Can we leave?" Jinji asked. As soon as the words left her lips, hope filled her. Could they escape the scrutiny? Could they be just the two of them again, for a little while? Normal. Friends. Without the stares, the expectations, and the new emotions stirring her heart.

Rhen grinned. "Wonderful idea. Let's go."

As one, they stood, once more grabbing the attention of every noble in the room. Rhen apologized to his brother, quietly this time, murmuring that it was of great importance. But when he turned around, the impish smirk on his face told Jinji something else—that like her, he truly just needed to escape.

It took all of her control to keep her steps steady as they passed through the center aisle of tables. But the heat of Rhen's hand on the small of her back was just comforting enough to make everything okay.

"Are you hungry?" he asked as soon as they exited the dining hall.

The longing in his tone made Jinji realize he was likely starving. But she wanted desperately to hear his news—something told her that the only topic he would be too afraid to mention in public was the shadow. So she shook her head.

"Perfect, I know just the place where we can talk."

Without hesitating, Rhen grabbed her hand and tugged her along. The move felt natural, as though their palms were made to touch. His callused fingers were soft against her skin—large and firm, yet gentle, making Jinji feel delicate under his care. Her chest cringed painfully, but still she held on, wanting to absorb the moment because she was unsure if it would ever happen again.

"This way," Rhen said, dropping her hand and pulling Jinji from her reverie. The heat from his touch slowly faded away, bringing an awareness of her surroundings back to the forefront of her mind.

A winding staircase rested before them, one Rhen was already eagerly climbing. Wanting to keep pace, Jinji lunged to follow, circling round and round, dizzy from keeping her focus on the triangular steps below her feet. The stone was barely worn, making her wonder if this was another of Rhen's sanctuaries, just like the crow's nest on the ships.

He's obsessed with heights. She sighed as her breath started to grow more labored and her thighs began to burn. But she would not slow down. Judging by the fleeting glances through small windows, the view would be something magical to behold.

A grunt trickled down from above, followed by the scrape of a door.

She was close.

One more turn, and Jinji's breath caught.

Rhen waited, leaning against the frame with a knowing smile, expecting her reaction yet enjoying it all the same. But her eyes glazed past his body, drawn to the scene beyond.

All of Rayfort waited below them, the homes, the walls, the turquoise sea made richer by the soft colors painted across the sky. Deep midnight faded to lavender, brightened to gold, and then popped to a brilliant magenta silver just above the horizon. Far off mountain peaks were made more visible as they sparkled like fire with reflections of the dying sun.

Jinji walked to the edge of the small landing, turning her entire body to catch the magnificent view. From here, she could see every inch of the city, from the green trees of the forest behind to the calm waters before her.

"It's the tallest spire in the castle," Rhen said with a shrug, though a small part of him seemed mesmerized as well. "Mostly it's just used in case of war, so we can see an attack coming from any angle before it strikes. But I've always loved this spot, especially at this time of day."

He leaned his forearms against the stone, and Jinji walked over next to him, careful not to place her body too close. Yet somehow, not touching made it worse, made her even more aware of their nearness. The small distance ate at the back of her mind, stealing her thoughts until all she could concentrate on was the trickle of heat drifting between their skin.

All her instincts yearned to sit and curl into a little ball, to fold her knees into her chest and hide. Instead, she leaned over, brushing her shoulder lightly against his arm. Rhen did not move away. So she relaxed against his frame, suddenly calmer than ever.

"I saw something earlier today, Jin…"

As the name rolled off his tongue, Jinji shivered. Whereas before, the sound only reminded her of her lies, now that Rhen knew she was a woman, the meaning had changed. Now hearing Jin was like a small promise of their friendship, a secret the two of them shared. Though so much had changed, their connection hadn't, and wouldn’t—she hoped.

"Was it the shadow?" she asked, almost waiting for the voice to invade her thoughts. But the invisible spirit remained silent.

Rhen shook his head. "I don't know, but I don't think so. More like a phantom, some sort of soul come back to life." He sighed, long and heavy. "It sounds ridiculous when I say it aloud."

"You can tell me," she urged. Rhen glanced across the small space, meeting her gaze briefly. His eyes were open, honest—vulnerable in a way he had only been with Jin the boy. But now he was letting Jinji inside, he was trusting her, and this time Jinji promised she would live up to the faith he bestowed.

"I was talking with Cal," he began, letting the words fall out, telling his story. The gray mist. The journey underneath the castle. The drawings on the wall. The way his body froze at its touch.

Jinji absorbed everything, passing no judgment, letting him finish. When his shoulders fell and a long breath escaped his lips, she nudged his arm, eliciting a barely there lopsided smile.

"I believe you," she said, "and I agree, it's not the shadow, it can't be. The shadow tried to kill you, the last thing it would do is expend energy trying to send you a message."

"That's what I thought too." Subconsciously, Rhen's hand fell to his stomach. Jinji's gaze followed, imagining the scar that cut through his muscles, wondering what memory now raced through his thoughts. "But then, what is it?"

She shrugged. "Another mystery we must solve together."

"I'm growing tired of those," Rhen added, eyes dancing as a grin broke out on Jinji's lips.

"Me too."

Words passed unspoken between them, memories of their shared adventure and of the long journey ahead. The near-death experience had changed Rhen—Jinji could tell that where he doubted her before, he now believed her fully and understood the threat the shadow posed. Though his people were at war with human forces, he knew something more sinister waited to attack. Something neither of them knew how to fight.

Rhen broke contact first, dropping his head into waiting hands, running his fingers through unruly locks growing curly in the breeze.

Jinji waited for him to speak, sensing the questions burning his tongue. Ticking her thumbs, she counted the moving bodies below. Guards marched across the wall and servants scuttled across the yard. The lords and ladies were still cooped up inside, eating the dinner she was so glad to flee.

"Jin, can I ask…"

She pulled her eyes from grounds far below, back to the private space around them. The sky behind Rhen was growing darker, making Jinji all too aware that their time was almost up. When night fully descended, pushing the last vestiges of the sun out of sight, this moment of sanctuary would be over.

"Why'd you lie?" Rhen muttered, unable to look at her, speaking more to the ground.

Jinji swallowed the lump in her throat back down. She had known the question would come. It had only been a matter of when.

"I never meant to," she confessed, voice as soft as the fading light around them. Her fingers shook with the memory of how they met, the day her entire tribe was killed, the distinct awareness that she had been, and in many ways still was, completely alone. "When you first found me in what was left of my village, I had woven the illusion of my brother's face without realizing—the spirits were listening to a prayer I never even spoke aloud. When I woke beside the stream, I was shocked to see his face and not mine reflecting back at me. And at the time, I didn't know you—didn’t know if I could trust you. Being a boy just seemed easier, safer."

"And later, after we became friends?" A twinge of sadness laced his tone, something Jinji was sure he tried to hide but couldn’t quite erase completely.

She turned away, unable to bear the look on his face, the haunting dark green his irises had become. "I didn’t know how. I didn’t want anything to change. My destiny was the shadow and yours was the war, and I thought we would one day part ways so there was no reason to admit the truth. But then—" Jinji paused, biting her lip. Was she ready for her true confession?

"Then what?"

Breathing deeply, she pressed forward. "Then I ran away. On the morning of the ceremony, I was trying to leave—"

"Without so much as a goodbye?" Rhen interrupted.

"But as I was leaving," Jinji continued, ignoring the waves of anger being sent in her direction, "I came across a little boy who was almost killed by his father, a man possessed by the shadow. And the little boy was a fire spirit, just like you, and I knew in that moment that I couldn't abandon you—that you were in danger. So I ran back as fast as I could, and I tried to save you, but…but, I was too late."

Jinji’s voice cracked as the memory exploded full force in her mind—all of the desperation returned to her veins, making her heart pump with exertion.

Rhen pulled her into his arms, burying her against his chest as her body shook. With soothing murmurs, he ran a hand up and down her back. His other rose to cradle Jinji's head, fingers fiddling with the short hairs at the base of her neck.

Jinji breathed in his smell, fresh leather mixed with salty air, and let the feel of his tight muscles ease her fear.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Rhen’s only response was to squeeze his arms tighter, pressing her body fully against his, but she prayed that it meant he forgave her.

Resting in his arms, Jinji realized a little bit of the lie still remained, sealed behind lips that would never open in confession. Because she couldn’t help but feel as though their bodies molded perfectly together. He was a little too tall, a little too wide, and she was a little too small. Yet, their frames felt made for each other, as though his arms were meant to be around her and her head was meant to fit perfectly into the nook below his neck. They were two halves of one entity, not whole without the other.

That was the real reason why she had never told him the truth.

Warmth awakened in her chest—a fire that was so much easier to ignore when he thought her a boy. Life was easier that way. Because now, there was no denying how her heart burst every time he looked at her. And after their conversation from before, there was no denying that the wish, growing grander with each passing moment, would never, ever come true.

Jinji pulled back, blinking away the water in her eyes, looking out at the horizon, which had almost disappeared. Stars decorated the sky, growing brighter as the last ray of sunlight melted away.

"We should go back inside," she said softly, unable to look at him.

But Rhen leaned against the stone, utterly distracted, eyes peering forcefully out into the distance. Jinji followed his line of sight, noticing for the first time a small line of lights too close to the ground to be stars.

"What is that?" she asked. Fire? The dots were flickering orange and yellow, hard to miss now that night had fully come.

Fury flashed across Rhen's face, followed by determination as he locked his jaw, narrowing his lips into a very thin line. He spoke only three words, but they sent a sense of dread into the pit of her stomach.

"King Razzaq's army."

6

RHEN

~ RAYFORT ~

When her voice cracked, Rhen was done for.

He had been determined not to forgive Jinji so quickly, to test out their new friendship, to see if he could ever understand why she had lied. So many grand ideas completely destroyed by the slight quiver of her lip.

"I was too late," she whispered, voice so full of self-loathing that Rhen reached out instinctually to comfort her, pulling her fragile body into his arms, hugging her as close to his chest as she could possibly go. Before his mind fully processed his actions, Jinji's head was buried against his neck, and Rhen found he quite liked the feel of holding her so tightly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, so delicate, so feminine. Rhen bit his lip to keep his thoughts from escaping, tugging her closer instead.

I'm done for.

Rhen sighed, closing his eyes as though to hide from the truth. Days ago, seeing Jinji for the first time, Rhen sensed that everything was different. He wasn't sure if he could trust her, if he would be able to talk to her the same way he talked to Jin—so openly and honestly. Rhen didn’t think he could say goodbye to the boy who had become so much like a brother to him.

How wrong he'd been.

Oh, everything had changed, that was undeniable. But in this moment, with his fingers exploring the curve of her back, that change seemed so much for the better—dangerously so. Tonight proved to Rhen that Jinji the woman was the same friend as Jin the boy—caring, loyal—someone he could tell anything to. But now she had a whole new side to her—a side that pinched his heart and stole his breath with her beauty. A side that had made him want to punch every nobleman in the dining hall that evening.

Sitting at the front of the room, meeting the glares pointed in their direction, Rhen understood the thoughts being directed at her—even if she didn't. He saw how the men eyed her brown skin with distaste. How the women grimaced at her short hair. A thousand eyes watched her, disapproving, making Rhen's skin crawl with fury. How dare they. It took all of his effort to keep his balled fists under the table—to keep a terse smile on his lips. Rhen had been all too eager to run away when Jinji offered. He had none of her confident grace, none of her willpower, and he had been half a second from drawing his sword. Even thinking about it now made his veins ignite with anger.

As though Jinji sensed his changing mood, she pulled away, jumping out of his arms and turning toward the view.

Blood pumping, Rhen leaned forward, focusing his rage on the distant horizon, doing his best to hide the sudden change in attitude. He was about to speak, about to apologize, when a line of flickering lights caught his attention.

His eyes narrowed.

Rhen knew exactly what those fires meant.

"We should go back inside," Jinji whispered beside him.

But Rhen's outrage had finally found an appropriate target, a place he could funnel his fury. Vision turning red, he could not look away.

"What is that?" Jinji asked.

Rhen gritted his teeth, feeling his nostrils flare, and muttered, "King Razzaq's army."

"So soon?" She gasped.

A similar thought was running through Rhen's mind. He and Whyllem had thought they would have weeks to prepare—there were not enough arrows, enough oil. The townspeople had barely been trained for an attack. And the food stores—Rhen had been hoping spring would pass before a siege might begin, enough time to refill stock depleted by the cool winter.

How were we so blind?

Rhen shook his head, desperation seeping into his lungs, sucking the breath from his chest. If the army already marched on Rayfort, then the Ourthuri and the traitors had been planning this for years. King Razzaq could not amass such a force in so little time, not on foreign soil. His soldiers had to have been hiding in Lothlian for weeks, months even.

Counting the lights on the horizon, Rhen's stomach began to fall. So many. The line of flames continued across the whole expanse of the peninsula and back, almost as far as the eye could see. Still half a day's march away, but even so, attack would be coming sooner than Rhen ever expected.

"I must find Whyllem." Rhen cursed, grabbing Jinji's hand to lead her back downstairs. The dull warmth transferring into his skin was soothing, comforting in a way he so needed in that moment.

Just as the two of them entered the stairs, a horn blasted through the sky—a deep bellow that rattled through buildings, filling the whole city with a scream. It could only mean one thing—the guards on the wall had seen the fires. Horns flared to life from every side, spreading from tower to tower, blaring across the city. Each tone made Rhen's heart constrict in anticipation. Chaos would soon overrun the streets. Fear made people crazy. And that was the last thing they needed right now.

When he and Jinji reached the bottom of the stairs, Rhen paused—utterly torn. Why did it always seem like helping his people meant abandoning this person who meant so much to him? Why did it always feel as though he were leaving her behind when, in truth, he wanted her by his side?

"Go," Jinji said, releasing his hand. Without her touch, his fingers felt cool, frozen as though his life force had been sucked away. "I'm all right."

But was he?

Rhen forced his hand to remain still by his side, fighting the urge to clasp her fingers once more. But as always, she understood what he needed more than he did. And right now, he needed to keep his city from destroying itself.

"Guard," he called, turning, hoping one was around. Behind him, a royal soldier dressed in a red leather overcoat nodded and stepped closer. No fear reflected in his eyes, filling Rhen with a sense of pride—perhaps they would be all right after all.

"Please bring Lady Jinji back to her rooms."

"Of course, my Lord." The guard nodded, offering his arm.

Jinji took it, turning to leave, but Rhen could not resist one more goodbye. Reaching out, he placed his palm on her shoulder. She turned, curiosity pinching her brows.

"I…" Rhen started, but he had no words prepared. Part of him just wanted to touch her one more time. A small smile danced across her lips, as though she could read his perplexed mind. Rhen sighed, settling on, "I'll come find you later."

Jinji covered his fingers with her own, squeezing once. "I'll be waiting."

And then she turned around, releasing him—silently telling him it was okay. Rhen listened, quickly flipping in the opposite direction, and ran down the halls toward Whyllem's room. White stone passed by in a flurry, tunneling his vision on his destination—his brother.

As he slammed open a heavy wooden door, Rhen realized his mistake. Pain squeezed his chest tight, a vise, making him grunt as he leaned against the wall for support.

This was Whyllem's old room.

The room of a prince.

Not the king regent's room.

In his haste, Rhen had forgotten for a split second that his father and eldest brother were gone. But now the reality rushed back, deaths striking his heart all over again, more excruciating than the wound in his stomach.

A hand gripped his bicep fiercely.

"It's okay, brother," Whyllem's voice broke through Rhen's hurt, "I came here too. I forgot too."

They looked at each other, complete understanding in their downcast eyes. In his brother's face, Rhen read the doubts filling his own mind. Could they do it without their father, without Tarin? Were the two of them enough to save their kingdom? Or were they each the screw-ups everyone believed them to be?

Pupils burning, Rhen blinked and straightened his stance, determined. "Did you hear the horns?"

Whyllem nodded, lips drawing tight. "Is it the enemy?"

"I believe so." Rhen sighed and walked to the window, taking a seat. They were too low in this room to see the fires ignited along the horizon. "I was on the tower when the horn blasted, I saw the lights in the dark. An army waits outside our city."

Under his breath, Whyllem cursed, pacing the room. "I thought we would have another month at least. The last we heard, the armies were still building, nowhere near prepared to march. And now they are at our walls? How did this happen so quickly?"

There was no need to respond. They both knew the truth—they had been blind and learned to see far too late.

"Where do our supplies stand? Our plans?"

"Little has changed since we last spoke," Whyllem grunted. The last time they spoke about the war had been right after Rhen awoke—a day that now seemed so long ago. "Arrow production began with renewed vigor this morning, as did oil production. But still, not at the level we might hope for. Ships are supposed to leave our harbor at daybreak to make for the Straits, but we only have a dozen or so available. Most are stationed at outlying ports, or serving as merchant vessels since we’ve been in peace for so long."

Rhen shook his head. Must everything always go wrong?

He looked up, watching his brother's frantic movements. If the king regent was so anxious, he could only imagine what the streets resembled. Were the taverns full of sloppy men growling in frustration? Were the alleys being flooded with screaming children? Would fights break out over food? Would they rebel against their king just out of fear?

"Whyllem," he said forcefully, stilling his sibling. "The most important thing we can do right now is maintain control. Everyone is afraid, but we must keep them calm. We'll never survive unless the city stands united as one front."

"How? What should we do?" Whyllem shook his head. The pressure was too much. Rhen's brother had never been the one to make decisions—no, that was Tarin's job. Whyllem just offered council and advice—but with the mantle of leadership across his back, his wits had failed him.

Rhen stood, grabbing his brother by the shoulders. "Put soldiers in the streets, make sure no riots break out overnight. Ride out and assure the public that their king has everything under control. Throw coins onto the cobblestones. Fill their bellies with warm bread and wine. The gods, Whyllem, do whatever it takes."

Taking a deep breath, Whyllem nodded—attempting to embrace his new role as king regent with strength. Eyes no longer blank but filled with determination, he spoke with a voice far calmer than before, "I will, I swear it."

Rhen held his brother's gaze until he believed the conviction in his words. Now it was his turn to contribute. And there was one thing Rhen could do better than anyone else. Excitement mounting, he turned to leave, muscles itching to act. But Whyllem stopped him. "Where are you going?"

Rhen glanced over his shoulder, grinning widely. "I'm going to instill some fear in the hearts of our enemies."

Whyllem squinted, intrigued, but did not ask questions before releasing Rhen. Good, he thought as he raced from the room. Rhen didn’t have an answer—not yet. But he would because he was going to ride out beyond the wall and take a closer look at what was waiting for them.

Nothing too dangerous, Rhen promised himself, remembering his conversation with Cal. There was too much at stake to put his life at risk, especially when his brother so clearly needed his support. But he was sure some mischief could be managed in a relatively harmless manner.

"Ember," he called out as he reached the stables. A reassuring screech filled his ears. Rhen raced down the stalls, laughing as his beautiful auburn horse poked her head out with complete impatience.

"I know, girl," he cooed, scratching the diamond patch of white hairs resting between her eyes. A sigh rumbled down her neck. Rhen leaned against her coat, content for a moment of peace.

Days before, just after waking up in his room, he had come to see her. And for the first time in their long history, his absence had been greeted with no attitude. Instead, Ember had leaned into his hug, stomping her front foot with excitement. Pure happiness had filled her movements. There was no annoyance at the long delay—three weeks without seeing each other was a lifetime for the two of them. Yet Rhen sensed that somehow she knew he had almost died. Impossible as it was, she had felt his illness like a sour taste in the air and had just been relieved to see him alive.

Now though, the feeling had worn off. After a few more scratches, Ember shook her head, reeling back and staring at him with one large, opal eye. If he didn’t know better, Rhen might have said her brow was raised.

"That's my girl." He grinned, excitement mounting at finally being able to do something other than mope around the castle. "We've both been cooped up for far too long. How about a ride?"

Ember jumped on her hind legs as a neigh rippled from her lips.

"Whoa, whoa," he called, shaking his head. "Come on."

Rhen opened the door to her stall as Ember trotted out, light on her feet, whipping her long tail through the air. Securing a saddle as quickly as he could, he jumped onto her back.

Ember needed no prompting. As soon as she felt Rhen's hands grip the reins, they were off, racing through the castle gate and into the night.

Streets passed by in a daze. The noble quarters were quiet. Families siding with their kingdom's traitors had abandoned their homes, and the remaining lords were at the castle, secure behind the city's third defensive wall.

However, as they passed through the second wall and into the area populated by the common folk, noise filtered into Rhen's ears. Music notes drifted into the air, balanced by shouts and shrieks—from pleasure or anger he was not sure. Though he hoped that those who were most afraid were hiding behind closed doors, waiting for reassurance from the crown—not getting drunk and rowdy.

Wary, Rhen took the side roads, steering clear of the taverns and the area he guessed Whyllem was attempting to secure. Dirt flew up in dust clouds around Ember as they made for the front gate, and within minutes, they had arrived.

"Open the gate," Rhen called to the guards standing watch. But no one moved. He tried again, more forcefully. "Your prince commands you open the gate."

"I told them not to," a voice called.

Rhen turned, frowning. "Cal…"

His friend stepped free of the shadows, arms crossed and eyebrows raised so high they seem about to fly free of his forehead. "As soon as I heard the horns, I knew you would come flying to the front gate ready to face the enemy on your own. Even after our conversation."

Rhen shrunk back in his seat, wriggling his shoulders and trying to think of a response. He had never felt so like a reprimanded child, even while his father was alive. "I wasn't going to do anything too rash…"

Cal stepped closer, face growing even more accusing. "Whylrhen," he said, shaking his head, "if I guessed that you would go running off into the night, don't you think my father could have too? There may be a trap—enemy soldiers who marched closer and are hidden under the cover of darkness."

Brows knotting together, Rhen pursed his lips before releasing all of the tension in his limbs with a long drawn out sigh. Below him, Ember also begrudgingly relaxed, aware that their ride was over for the night. "You're right," he muttered, hating the words. But he couldn’t deny them.

Damn you, Cal.

Rhen slid from Ember's saddle, melting down to Cal's level, surrendering. His friend did not respond, though the smug smile on his face spoke volumes.

"I need to do something, Cal, I feel utterly useless."

"Come with me to the top of the wall, let the guards know their royal family supports them."

Rhen nodded his consent. Cal was right—no matter how he hated staying in one place, locked up behind walls rather than free to roam wild, Rhen was needed here.

"Sorry, girl," Rhen whispered as he tied Ember's reins to a rail along the wall. Ember snarled, refusing to look at him.

I'm going to pay for this later. He shook his head, filling her a bucket of water and presenting an apple as a peace offering. After waiting for a few seconds with no reaction, Rhen sighed and placed the fruit on the ground.

Following Cal up the stone steps, the two of them crested the top of the wall. Rhen wasn't sure if the view were more terrifying from here or his previous location in the tower. From above, he saw how far back the campfires stretched. But from down here, closer to sea level, the width seemed ever wider and the lights flickered ever closer.

"Have you ever seen a more beautiful sight?" Rhen asked, voice light as he approached a few of the guards stationed on the wall. Each briefly spared a glance in his direction, but their eyes were tight, somewhat guarded—something Rhen was unused to seeing.

For a moment, he wondered if it was just the army waiting within sight, or if it was something else—the same thing he noted in the practice yards. That after his stunt with the fire, the men no longer trusted him, no longer liked him.

"No, my Lord," they said in unison, tones quiet.

"No?" Rhen pressed on. "You've lived a sorry life then. I have, and her name is Catherine. You'd do well to take a trip to the docks after your shift is over."

Leaning over the edge of the wall, he waited. But none of the usual laughter followed his jest, none of the levity the guards normally granted him.

"Catherine?" One finally spoke, a fragile smile on his lips. "I've never heard of her, but I do know Mary, and…" He paused. "She's a rare beauty."

"I bet you would rather be with her than with me," Rhen said, leaning slightly closer with the banter.

"No disrespect, my Lord, but I surely would."

Rhen barked out a laugh. "And you?" he asked, moving his eyes to the next guard in line.

"Yes, my Lord?" the man asked softly.

"Where would you rather be?"

"At home, with my wife and children," he whispered.

Rhen paused. Perhaps this wasn't the best line of thought to take their mind off the incoming war, to keep up their spirits. They needed something fun. Something entertaining. Sparing another long look at the fires flaring bright against an ebony backdrop, an idea entered his mind.

It might be risky.

It would definitely be fun.

Well, fun for him.

Rhen turned to Cal, wondering if he should ask his friend for permission. But knowing Cal, he would just say no.

If he could just show the guards that his powers would not hurt them, that he only wanted to help them, maybe things would go back to normal. If not, what would he lose? They would still fear him, but at least the enemy would be thrown for a loop.

Perfect.

"Cal!" Rhen shouted, completely unnecessarily as his friend was only a foot away. But he was lost in the excitement of having a plan, of causing a little ruckus.

"Yes, Rhen?" The tone was only mildly exasperated—Cal was, after all, used to Rhen's theatrics.

"Can you move everyone away? Give me, I don't know, ten feet on all sides?"

For a moment, Rhen thought he might ask why. But instead, after a mild hesitation, his friend quietly shifted the guards away. Rhen easily read the thought running through his Cal's mind—what damage could the prince do while still on the wall? Well, Rhen hoped quite a bit.

Once the men had moved out of the way, he placed his hands on the stones and focused on the fires, opening his senses. Even with the distance, the heat called out to him, boiling his blood as though the flames were inches and not miles away.

My power is growing stronger.

Was it his proximity to Jin, who certainly had magic all her own? Or was it simply that Rhen had finally come to embrace his abilities rather than hide them? Either way, his vision surged forward, flying through the night until he could see individual sparks flickering in the air. Fingers twitching, he breathed in deeply, calling the smoke to his lungs, bidding the heat welcome.

Come.

The fire hesitated, tugged against his strength. Rhen pulled harder, gripping the stones beneath his hands and commanding the flames obey his orders. Heart pounding, veins boiling, he gritted his teeth using every ounce of willpower to yank the blaze toward his body. The distance was impossible to cross. Overwhelming.

And yet.

The flames flickered.

Then they stopped.

One by one, each glow paused as though time ceased to exist. Not a single flame shifted with the breeze. They were no longer under nature's control—they listened to Rhen alone. As one, the flames rose into the air, forming a giant current, and a river of lava soared across the land, drilling into Rhen's waiting chest.

Heat burned his skin, scorched his torso, but the blaze was welcome. A smile fluttered across Rhen's lips—he was sorry no one else could experience the rush of surviving such an onslaught. Hot could not describe the inferno, but it was more normal than breathing to his body—a skill he had kept hidden for far too long. And now that he was channeling the power, he wanted more.

Imagining the chaos that must be spreading across the enemy camp as darkness descended, Rhen opened his arms, wrenching every ounce of fire he could feel under his skin. And it listened, rushing faster and faster, churning across the sky, setting the entire city ablaze before disappearing into his chest.

When cool air blew gently against his bare skin, Rhen released a breath, slowly opening his eyes. The horizon was a blanket of ebony. No light burned except the stars in the sky, as though the army had vanished into thin air.

His clothes were in shreds, burnt strings dangling around his chest. His royal silks, it seemed, were not immune to the fire. Ripping the remaining tatters from his torso, Rhen asked, "Can I have a shirt?"

But when he turned around, his heart plummeted and he paused. Gaping mouths and frightened eyes were all that greeted him. An invisible knife pierced his gut all over again when he found Cal, gaze wider than ever, as though his childhood friend did not recognize him. Rhen took a step forward, and as one they all stepped back.

He knew this might happen, but seeing it was like being stabbed by a thousand tiny needles. All Rhen had ever wanted was to fit in, but an awareness of his differences coursed through his body, more painful than any fire ever could be.

Rhen might need a friend, but his people didn't. They needed a leader. More than that, in a time of war, they needed hope. Straightening his shoulders, Rhen swallowed the part of him that cried out to be understood—the part of him that had always just wanted to be accepted. He was royal—being normal just wasn't part of the job. And it was time to admit who he really was.

More than a person.

More than a prince.

Rhen met each of their stares, slowly and purposefully, keeping his stature utterly composed. "Tell the people that the Lord of Fire fights on their side, and with him, no enemy will ever defeat us."

The men parted as he stepped forward, giving Rhen space to leave. As his foot touched the first step, Rhen heard whispers in his wake.

"The Lord of Fire."

"The Lord of Fire."

At first soft and curious, then excited and strong.

"The Lord of Fire fights for us."

"With the Lord of Fire we cannot lose."

Hushed murmurs spread from either side, making their way across the wall faster than a speeding arrow. By morning, the entire city would hear the tale—not the truth, but a story of godly proportions.

Rhen did not realize he was crying until he mounted his horse. And by then, the tears were already being blown dry by the wind.

7

JINJI

~ RAYFORT ~

A knock woke Jinji from her slumber. Curious, she tied a robe around her body, hesitant as she cracked open the door.

"Rhen?" Jinji asked, squinting into the dark. She opened her mouth to speak, but paused as he brought the torch in his hand forward, illuminating his face. The first thing Jinji noticed was the dirt spattered across his cheeks, dull brown streaked with pale lines—trails tears must have made as they coursed down his skin.

Everything about him spoke of defeat—the drop in his normally square shoulders, the knot in his brow, the slight pout to his lip. The last she had seen, he was running to find his brother, to alert the city—how much could have changed in a few passing hours?

"Rhen, is it the war? Did something happen?"

But Rhen did not speak. He stepped quietly into her room, shutting the door behind him. Walking slowly around, Rhen lit every candle in the small space—the stick on her nightstand, the sconces on either side of her windows, the trio resting on the vanity. Then he stopped and met Jinji's confused eyes.

"Are you afraid of me?" he whispered.

"No," Jinji said, answering quickly, not a doubt in her mind.

Rhen lifted his free hand to the top of the torch, sinking his fingers deep into the flames. For a moment, Jinji held her breath, worried, before remembering that no fire could hurt him. Rhen did not look away as he slowly pulled the light underneath his skin, bringing an ounce of darkness to her room, now lit only by a handful of candles.

"Are you afraid of me?" he repeated, voice as soft as a summer's breeze.

"Rhen, what happened?" she questioned.

He turned toward the sconces on her wall, lifting his hand. Without warning, the flames jumped free of the candles, flying through the air before sinking into his open palm.

"Rhen." Jinji jumped forward, grabbing the hand he was now turning toward the other candles. His fingers were red hot and warm, burning her skin as though he were the fire. But Jinji ignored the slight sting, holding tight.

He looked down, first at their intertwined hands and then at her eyes. The unnaturally harsh angles decorating his face smoothed over.

Sensing the changing tide, Jinji tugged on his arm, pulling Rhen to the seat below her window. More than anything, she wanted to ask what happened, to hear the story of what brought him to her rooms in the middle of the night. But as they sat down, Rhen collapsed into her arms, body shaking.

Staying silent, Jinji ran her hands down his spine, back up again, gently brushing her fingers over the outlines of his strong muscles. Underneath her touch, the tightly wound tension in his frame relaxed. His sighs turned pleasurable as Rhen let go of whatever pain he had brought with him to Jinji's room.

"Jin?" he asked after a while, breaking the peaceful silence.

"Hmm?" she responded, fluttering open eyes that had fallen shut in sleepiness.

Rhen shifted, easing from her arms. "Will you show me how you hid your true face? Will you show me your magic?"

Lids widening, Jinji sat up in surprise, fully alert.

After waking in the dungeon as a woman, no longer shrouded in her twin brother's face, Jinji had known that if Rhen were alive, he knew her secret. In a way, she was almost surprised that it had taken so long for him to ask her to speak honestly about her powers.

Yet, even knowing the question would come at some point, Jinji still felt ill prepared. She had only ever willingly shown two people her powers—Captain Pygott, to escape the men attacking his ship, and the Ourthuri Princess Leena, to convince her to help save Rhen's life. Without a dire circumstance to push the words from her lips, talking about the spirits would be difficult.

But for Rhen, who had always been so honest with her, Jinji would try.

"Do you remember anything from our conversation on the ship, when I told you about my relation with the spirits?"

Rhen frowned, concentrating, and then popped his head up from the floor, eyes lit with a memory. "I do. You told me that you could see the elements, that you could see fire spirits dance along my skin. That was why you threw the lamp to make me use my powers, because you knew the fire would not hurt me."

Jinji nodded, swallowing before pressing onward. "I can see the spirits of the four elements, almost like strings woven together to create our world. Earth, air, fire, and water—in every living thing. But there is more that I did not tell you. I…" Jinji paused, taking a deep breath as Rhen leaned in closer. "I can manipulate those strands. I can tie them together to create illusions. The boy you knew, Jin, his face was just an illusion wrapped around my features."

Jinji stopped as her brother, Janu, filtered into her thoughts. A tight yearning constricted her heart, a reminder that she still missed him—the boy who would always be her second half. Even though her relationship with Rhen deepened, no one would completely replace Janu in her heart. Her feelings for Rhen were something different, just as strong, but separate. And her brother's memory was hers alone, a thought she wanted to keep private.

"Show me," Rhen murmured.

"What do you want to see?"

"Anything."

Jinji folded her legs, pulling them up underneath her, and faced her hands out toward the center of her room. The illusions always came easier with her eyes closed, so she shut them tight. The real world disappeared for a brief moment and her imagination was all that existed.

For some reason, her old home filtered through her thoughts—the hut she had shared with her mother, father, and, for a short time, Janu. Branches were bent and tied together with twine to create a frame. Tan hides encased the shelter. A smoke hole opened in the center of the roof. Two little pallets had served as beds, far more modest than the lush cushions Rhen had grown up on. Every little detail of her former life slowly slipped into her thoughts—the furs used as blankets, the crude knives, the feathers carefully plucked for arrows.

Jinji eased her eyes open as she heard Rhen gasp, aware that the illusion had sprung to life around them.

Home.

Her soul winced.

She and Rhen sat in what used to be the entrance to her family's hut, looking inward at the sparsely decorated room. This place, once so vibrant and full of life, now only existed in her memories.

"I…" Rhen muttered, peering around. He began to stand, but Jinji grabbed his hand, stilling him.

"Be careful, you cannot see what is really around you, what your feet might step on."

He relaxed back down, eyes continuing to wander. "I recognize it. This is where I found you."

"What?" Jinji turned, system so shocked that the illusion flickered and faded around them.

Rhen jerked as the castle jumped back into view. Shaking his head, he turned to Jinji. "What you just showed me, it's where I found you. I thought you were a boy, but I saw you passed out on the smaller pallet, and then I brought you to the stream."

"Oh," Jinji whispered. All she remembered was waking near the river, confused and hurt, wishing more for death than life.

"I'm sorry." Rhen gently placed his fingers over hers. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's fine," Jinji said, turning her hand over so she could clutch his palm for strength. "It's just…I miss…"

She sighed, stomach flipping with indecision, emotions turbulent. Thoughts of her former life always brought a special pain to her heart, which was why she usually buried those memories as deeply as possible. But now, droplets of her past rained down, stealing her breath, drowning her.

Rhen shifted so that his arm draped across her shoulders and pulled her to his side, hugging her tight. Jinji leaned into his hold, using Rhen as her anchor against the flood. For a while, they sat, not speaking—each lost in thoughts that did not need to be shared, that were impossible to say aloud.

And yet, just having Rhen close, knowing he was there and would listen if she found the courage or the words, that awareness was enough to comfort her. And Jinji had a feeling that her presence had the same effect on Rhen.

Shifting, she glanced up at his serene face—eyes closed, lips open in the barest smile. Her prince was fast asleep. Jinji smiled, and then she settled her head on his chest, content to spend the rest of the night snuggled against his warmth.

Hours later, a chill woke her.

Rhen was gone.

Jinji did not need to open her eyes to confirm the suspicion. His absence filled the room with stale air, poignant and undeniable. Yet, her lids fluttered open anyway, pulled by the dull light seeping through the window.

Morning was here and she slept in her bed, covered by blankets, making her wonder if the entire night had been nothing but a dream. An elaborate illusion her mind had crafted to tease her. But sitting up, she noticed an unlit torch on the ground and smiled.

"My lady?" A knock sounded against her door.

"Enter," Jinji called, slipping from the bed.

"Morning, my lady," Beatrice said, voice cheerful.

"You seem to be in high spirits."

"Did you hear the news?" Beatrice set down the morning tea and walked to the closet, already searching for a new dress for Jinji to wear.

"No." Jinji shook her head and grabbed a piece of fruit.

"The prince visited the wall last night…" The servant trailed off as she leaned deep into the layers of silk gowns.

Jinji immediately put down the fruit, turning with interest. "What happened?"

Beatrice emerged with a simple lavender dress. "Well, I've heard a few different versions, my lady, but everyone is talking about it. Prince Whylrhen called himself the Lord of Fire. They say he burned the army camp to the ground, that he stole their fires and pulled the flames under his skin."

"Oh." Jinji gasped and sat down. Suddenly, Rhen's visit became perfectly clear. It all boiled down to one desire—to not feel so alone. Jinji could only imagine how much revealing his secret had ripped his insides. After an entire life of trying to be normal, to be accepted, he had thrown it all away. The Lord of Fire would never blend in—he was born to stand out. With a sigh, Jinji shook her head.

Beatrice continued, unaware of Jinji's stalled response, "Everyone says there's no way we can lose, not with a sorcerer on our side. Some people are even saying he is one of the gods reborn to save us in our time of need."

Jinji turned, stepping into the dress while Beatrice secured the buttons at the back.

"Do you know where he is?" she asked. A need to see him filled Jinji's veins, a desire she would not be able to ignore.

"The king regent and the prince went to the docks at daybreak to see our ships off. I hear they are going to defend the Straits, to make sure the Ourthuri don't break through."

Jinji cast a grateful glance at her servant. "Thank you."

Without another word, she sprinted from the room.

"My lady," Beatrice called after her, probably to inform Jinji that women simply did not race down the hallways of the castle. But Jinji was not and never would be a lady of the court. She was Arpapajo, and that meant she loved to run.

Picking up the front of her dress to avoid stumbling on the skirt, Jinji careened around the bends in the hall searching for an exit. Gasps seemed to follow her movement, but these people were going to judge her no matter how she acted, so she decided she might as well do as she pleased.

"Will you take me to the docks, please?" Jinji asked a servant as she reached the front steps. He was resting on the ground beside an empty carriage but jumped into action as the question left her lips.

Eyes widening, he bowed very deeply. Yet she noticed his eyes never left her, but gazed on with curiosity. "Of course, my lady. Anything for the honored guest of our prince."

A few minutes later, the carriage was brought around. With a helping hand, Jinji lifted herself into the coach waiting a few feet off the ground. Shaking her head, she couldn’t help but let her thoughts wander to the last time she had tried to leave the castle. The morning she had tried to run away from Rhen only to end up hopelessly lost in the streets, and then almost killed by an angry, drunk mob.

Sitting on silk cushions in quiet solitude, Jinji noted that being a friend of the prince and lady of the court was far more relaxing.

When the carriage rolled to a stop, the door beside her opened and Jinji stepped back into the noise. Men called to one another, laughing and shouting as they climbed ropes on ships and swung dozens of feet above the ground. Movement flurried around her, businessmen passing by in deep discussion or children playing near splashing waves.

Ah, the docks.

Jinji sighed and bit down on the small smile gracing her lips. Never in a million years did she think she would willingly return to any docks. In Roninhythe, the docks were a place of debauchery where Rhen had taken her to her first brothel. In Da'astiku, the docks had been a place of death where the entire crew of the Old Maid perished under an Ourthuri attack. Thus far, the docks in Rayfort had graced her with no ill will, but judging by her history, it was only a matter of time.

"Thank you," she said, turning to the servant who had delivered her here. "I will return soon if you could please wait."

"Of course, my lady." He bowed, enviously eyeing a group of men playing cards a few feet away. As soon as Jinji left sight, he was sure to partake in the fun.

Someone should. Jinji shrugged—fun was not a very big part of her life anymore. Too many things had gotten in the way. Revenge. Honor. Duty.

Sighing, she left the man on his own and made for the row of ships down the wooden planks. If Rhen were here, she was sure to see the circle of guards surrounding him before ever laying eyes on the prince.

But the more she walked, the more Jinji realized that the trip was hopeless. While the piers closest to her had been full of activity, the farther she traveled, the emptier they became. Until finally, at the end of the row, the last few piers were completely barren. The warships had already set sail and Rhen had probably moved on with his day, deep in discussion with his brother, planning their victory.

Still, something was calming about the subtle slap of water on wood, the barest hint of human voices on the wind. Jinji continued walking until her feet reached the end of the dock, and sat, resting her toes over the edge, close to the water. Turquoise filled her vision, undulating softly. Sudden glimpses of the white sand below came and went, flashing and disappearing over and over.

The spirits popped into her vision, blue strands swirling below the surface of the water. Glancing out at the horizon, Jinji watched yellow air crash into the blue, mixing and mingling as waves broke, splashing water into the wind. Farther out, something else waited—brighter than Jinji had ever seen, blinding almost with its brilliance. Pure white jinjiajanu—pure spirit, the life force that connected all of the elemental strands together—an entire mountain of it sat in the sea, right at the edge of her vision. The other elemental strands seemed sucked into it, dissolving and vanishing.

What?

Jinji blinked, pushing the elemental spirit strings from her sight until she could see the real world clearly.

The Gates.

Jinji squinted, trying to focus her sight on the mountains in the distance, stark against the cloudless blue sky. Rhen had referred to those peaks as the Gates, telling Jinji that the stone was pure white. The gleaming castle behind her was made from those rocks. The sand beneath her feet was crushed residue from the mountains. Yet neither of those things shone bright with the spirits.

Perhaps it had been a trick of the eyes.

Jinji called the spirits back to her vision, hoping to confirm that jinjiajanu clung to the rock in a way she had never seen before. Normally, Jinji had to search deep between the elemental spirits to get a glimpse of the pure ivory force—she had never seen it so openly displayed.

But the spirits would not listen. The elemental strands would not heed her call.

Come on, she thought, focusing with all of her will.

I can teach you to make the spirits obey, the voice said.

Jinji jumped back, vision jerking away from the horizon. Then her eyes squeezed shut, trying to push the voice from her thoughts. The voice did not say anything, but Jinji still sensed the foreign presence in her mind, the knowledge that something else was listening to her private thoughts.

"What do you want?" Jinji said softly.

To help, the voice replied.

"How?"

I feel your distrust as though it is my own. Until you understand that you must open your mind to me, that we must be as one, there is very little I can offer aside from my words.

"I don't need your words, so you can go."

Are you so sure?

Jinji paused, noting the suspicious tone the voice had taken, and suddenly remembered Rhen's tale from the day before—the gray mist he had followed through the castle, the drawing he had seen on the wall.

Licking her lips, Jinji hesitated, still unsure if she could even trust what the voice said. Part of her believed it was the shadow, contained within her body and trying to trick her. But what if the voice had told her the truth before, and it was some sort of guardian spirit trying to stop the shadow—what then?

"A friend of mine said he saw something in the castle," she began slowly, wondering how much to say. "Some sort of gray mist, a phantom."

The voice gasped inside her head.

"What?" Jinji asked quickly.

I did not expect them to come so quickly.

"What to come? What are they?"

Escaped souls, the voice confessed with a heavy sigh, weighing Jinji's shoulders down as though the defeated sound was her own. With the shadow in my world, the spirit realm, the living realm, there is no one to guard the souls of the dead. Though some are content to remain in the shadow world, waiting for rebirth in a new body, many souls do not realize they are dead. They remember their past lives and seek to return to the world of the living. Or worse, they know they are dead and seek revenge. Without my shadow-self to keep them contained in his realm, they are traveling through the ether and fleeing to the world they remember.

"Why is that so bad?" Jinji asked. Rhen had not seemed afraid of the soul—the phantom did not want to harm him.

The voice stuttered. Jinji could feel the foreign presence searching for the right words, racking its thoughts.

Suddenly, her vision grew spotty.

Jinji opened and closed her eyes, trying to clear the sense of lightheadedness. But black dots continued to grow, expanding, filling her eyes.

"Are you doing this?"

There was no response.

The world disappeared completely from sight. All awareness of her surroundings vanished. The dock beneath her bum faded away, the sound of the waves muted, until Jinji was floating through a void of nothingness.

"Hello?"

Colors flashed to life before her eyes, zipping and swirling as though Jinji were caught in the winds of a turbulent storm.

Then everything stopped.

Settled.

Jinji looked down over a wide field from a vantage point in the sky. On one side, an army of men marched, swords held aloft and shields poised at the ready. War cries filled the silence, in tune to the march of a thousand boots. Some were on horseback, but most were on their feet.

Suddenly, she realized what this must be—a memory. The voice had claimed to live a thousand lives, to constantly be reborn to the world, and now it was sharing one of those experiences.

Jinji searched for the gray mist, sure that the voice was trying to prove its danger. She did not have to look for very long. Across the field, another army stood, an army of phantom bodies undulating with swirling limbs. An army of ghosts.

Moving with lightning speed, the mist advanced. Before the humans could even react, the cloud of gray rolled over them, surrounding the men, enveloping them in darkness. One by one, the soldiers stopped moving, frozen in place, falling to the ground. Their bodies convulsed against the grass, shaking violently, until foam spewed from their mouths.

In a few seconds, it was over. The mist dissolved, disappearing from the battleground. All that remained were thousands of bodies.

Immobile.

Dead.

Jinji gasped. Terror flooded her limbs, frozen by a sight she would never forget. A sight that burned her eyes even as it began to fade to black, memory receding.

"Wh—" Jinji opened her mouth to speak, but her lungs were full, clogged. Breath would not come. Jinji coughed, choking. But the blockage would not clear, would not drain.

Her chest burned.

The voice disappeared with the pain. Her muscles grew weak. Unresponsive.

Opening her eyes, blue flooded her vision.

Water.

The sea.

Jinji was drowning. She must have fallen in during the vision, a moment when her mind had not been her own, when her body had been lost to her control. And now, it was too late.

Her arms would not swim. Her legs would not pump.

Heavy, Jinji sunk, helpless as the sun began to drift farther and farther away, the blue around her deepening until it became black. Her eyes no longer worked.

Time vanished.

The world slowed to a halt.

"Come on!"

Jinji burst to life, a cough ripping free of her chest as hands rolled her onto her side, slapping her on the back as a river flowed from her mouth.

"Let it go," someone cooed.

Jinji's eyes blurred. The world was lost to her as vomit tore free from her gut, and the liquid filling her drowned body gushed out. Throat burning, she continued to wretch, even after her body ran dry. And then finally, with a long gasp, cool air filled her chest, bringing her back to life.

"Rhen?" Jinji whispered, voice scratchy and barely there.

But when she turned over, it was not Rhen sitting over her. It was not even a boy. It was a girl with olive skin and a mysterious smile plastered across her lips.

"Princess?" Jinji gasped. It was the Ourthuri girl who had helped Jinji find Rhen in the golden palace. This girl had saved their lives, sneaking them from captivity and letting them go free. In return for her help, Jinji had promised the princess sanctuary from her father. But she never expected to see her so soon.

"I'm not a princess any longer," the girl growled. "You may call me Leena from now on."

"Leena…" Jinji shook her head, unable to dispel the shock from her system. How was this even possible? It was too much for her mind to process. The voice. The mist. The memory. Drowning…and now this?

Jinji took a deep breath, trying to gather her wits, and sat up.

"It’s an Ourthuri!" a voice yelled from behind.

"Seize them!" another shouted.

The princess's head jerked toward the noise, fear rippling across her features. But before Jinji even had a second to turn her head, strong hands gripped her arms, hauling her to her feet.

8

RHEN

~ RAYFORT ~

The siege had begun.

Rhen gripped the stone beneath his fingers, holding onto the wall as his eyes spread across the scene below. Disbelief seeped through his veins. The enemy had only made camp the night before, and already, a group of soldiers marched across the open field, gaining an aggressive position. Not all of them, not even half, but enough to do damage if he was not careful.

Rhen looked to the side, opening his mouth to shout a command to the soldiers waiting patiently for orders, but he closed it when he met Whyllem's gaze. The king regent should be controlling the wall, the first defense against the enemy. His brother should be keeping their people safe. But instead of taking over, Whyllem just offered Rhen a slight nod and slid his gaze back to the advancing enemy below.

Trying to ignore the hopelessness in his sibling's eyes, Rhen sighed. Only this morning, they had sent their fleet to guard the Straits against oncoming Ourthuri ships—only this morning, his brother had seemed so powerful giving a rousing speech to the sailors before sending them to what might become a watery grave.

But this was war. Rhen shook his head—casualties were part of the territory. And at least soldiers chose to fight, chose to risk their lives in combat. The people of his city, the women and the children, his own baby nephew Whyllean, they deserved to be protected. They deserved a warning, a chance to hide.

"Sound the alarm," Rhen instructed.

The commander to his left bowed his head, passing the information along. Rhen watched briefly as the soldier at the end of the line pressed his lips to metal bringing a howling screech to the air. Then one by one, the horns atop the wall began to blow.

As though the sound spurred the enemy on, the charge grew faster. Specks in the distance turned into men, their uniforms grew recognizable. The sky blue silks of Roninhythe were the first Rhen recognized, decorated with a roaring lion. Those colors were almost as familiar to him as the rearing stallion of Rayfort. But others soon called to him, the deep purple leathers of Fayfall and the green overcoat of Lothlian. Each one signified a different part of Whylkin—his kingdom, his home, a place he would not idly watch fall apart.

Yet, orders of attack would not pass his lips, could not, no matter how he tried to force them from the depths of his throat.

Rhen shut his eyes tight, swallowing the knot back down, wishing more than anything that Ourthuri and not Whylkin soldiers had been in the first line of attack. But the enemy knew his weakness. The Lord of Roninhythe, Cal's father, had seen Rhen grow from infancy, and he knew just how much his prince cared about his people.

So much that ordering their deaths was near impossible.

"My Prince," the commander beside Rhen murmured, "they have passed within range."

Rhen nodded, eyes still locked on the incoming soldiers. Arrows were still out of the question, but the catapults along the wall could crush those men if aimed correctly. Still, Rhen hesitated. Something felt off, not quite right.

Why did they march with so few men?

Why did they not pull catapults with them? A siege tower? A battering ram?

Nothing about this attack spoke of an attack.

And then the enemy soldiers slowed to a stop, kneeling behind elongated shields, pulling bows from behind their backs.

"What are they doing?" Whyllem cursed under his breath, confusion knotting his brows.

Rhen copied his brother's expression, lips pursed in thought. Arrows would never reach the wall from their location—not even longbows could shoot so far. So why?

His mind wandered back to summer days spent in the castle of Roninhythe, to the endless lectures Cal's father forced upon them. All Rhen remembered was growing glassy eyed and bored as more and more maps were shoved across the table, followed by more and more words he tried to tune out. Cal, of course, listened carefully to every morsel of knowledge. But Rhen, after months locked in classrooms with elderly knights, after so many hours yearning for freedom—for swordplay and riding lessons—Rhen was done.

Shaking his head, Rhen the man and not the boy could kick himself for failing to pay attention. Concentrating, he tried to pull any bit of information from his jumbled memories. Until suddenly, a thought filtered to the top of his mind, clear as the cloudless sky overhead. It was the one lesson Rhen had decided to listen to—a lesson on the rebellion that almost removed his ancestor Whyl the Conqueror from the throne.

The Lord of Roninhythe's voice droned into Rhen's ear. And the rebellion would have succeeded if so many casualties had not been dealt on the first day. If the commanding officers had been just a little smarter, Rayfort, fortress as it is, would have fallen.

Remembering the words now, Rhen shook his head—the longing in Lord Hamish's voice had been clear. But as a naïve little boy, Rhen had been unable to recognize the duplicity.

"Trenches," he whispered to himself. Whyllem turned to the sound of his voice and Rhen met his brother's stare. "They are trying to locate our trenches, so when the right time comes, they can attack on a clear path—bringing their horses, their catapults, their heavy weaponry unhindered."

"Can they do that?" Whyllem asked.

With a sigh, Rhen nodded and pictured the ground below. Scattered under the dirt, hidden beneath a layer of grass held up by rope and tarp, were deeply cut holes in the ground filled with sharp spikes. The trenches. Throughout his kingdom's history, approaching armies had quite literally fallen victim to their deadly grasp. Horses, catapults, marching soldiers—all had been swallowed, claimed. Everyone in Rayfort knew of their existence, were told from infancy to leave the city only on the Great Road lest the ground open below wayward feet.

A little fire, Rhen remembered as the Lord of Roninhythe's voice filled his thoughts once more. "The canvases covering the trenches are sturdy enough to hold the weight of five men, but as soon as the sixth walks over, they'll collapse, dropping every soldier to his death. Father believed that to be the only way a trench would be revealed, yet I heard a theory once that the canvases would burn if hit by enough flames, that a little fire would be their undoing."

"Fire?" the commander questioned but then nodded gravely as though agreeing with the idea. He stepped closer to the edge of the wall, as though trying to reach across the distance and read the enemies' minds.

But mind reading was unnecessary, as a moment later orange sparked to life in the distance—bright despite the afternoon sun. Gradually, the flames spread from neighbor to neighbor as arrows were slowly lit behind shields.

Rhen grinned.

Fire would never be his city's undoing.

"Should we attack, my King? The catapults are ready," the commander asked, eyes skipping over Rhen and landing on Whyllem, who flinched just slightly with the title.

"No," Rhen interrupted, uncaring if he broke protocol. Whyllem might be the king regent, but his brother was frozen with indecision, frozen with the weight of a king's responsibilities. "Firing the catapults might accidentally reveal the very trenches they are trying to unearth."

The commander held his palm out, signaling his men to hold steady even as the soldiers in the distance lifted their bows, aiming their arrows high into the sky.

"Give me room," Rhen ordered, stepping forward to the very edge of the wall. Immediately, everyone within three paces of him stepped back, eyes lit with curiosity—undoubtedly remembering the rumors that had been circling the city since before dawn.

The Lord of Fire.

Rhen sighed, breathing in deeply, calming his nerves. Would it ever get easier to reveal this secret? Would it ever feel normal to be so different?

Whyllem grabbed Rhen's forearm, squeezing just once before joining the other men standing a few feet away. But once was enough to give him strength. To make him feel just a little bit accepted.

A few hundred feet ahead, the soldiers of the rebellion loosed their arrows. Each one arched high, losing visibility against the bright white of the sun, before plummeting down to unseen targets.

Rhen opened his mind, letting go of his thoughts to connect completely with his senses. The flames burned as though already touching the tips of his fingers, and it took almost nothing to reach out and grasp them. Eyes closed, Rhen did not see the fire pull free of the arrows. He did not see the river of flames hurtle toward him.

But he heard the men around him gasp, with fascination and with horror, just a second before the burn smashed against his palms. And then the world faded away as he let himself revel in heat rippling under his skin, the power, the invincibility.

Cheers filtered into Rhen's ears as the blaze cooled. Hesitant, he opened his lids, searching for only one set of eyes in the crowd—Whyllem. His brother's hazel irises looked on proudly. The barest hint of a smile graced his lips. No trace of fear lined his features, no ounce of judgment.

A moment later, another flight of scorching arrows sailed across the sky. Without pause, Rhen sucked the heat beneath his skin.

Again.

And again.

And again.

For nearly an hour, the exchange continued until the grounds before the city were speckled with half sunken sticks. But no trenches had been revealed. Whether in pure dirt or grass-covered canvas, the arrows all looked the same from his vantage point. Useless.

"They're retreating!" a soldier shouted.

Rhen, energized rather than tired from the exchange, focused on the distance, watching with a smile as the row of shields lifted and walked slowly backward. There would be no deaths today, on either side. A small victory, but one Rhen rejoiced in.

"Lord of Fire!" another man shouted.

But Rhen did not acknowledge the title, even as it spread along the wall, lifting into the air, growing louder—a different sort of wildfire, one Rhen would never be able to control.

Instead he turned, away from the battlegrounds, away from the wall, away from his men, searching for his exit back home. For some reason, without the fight to hold his interest, his thoughts had drifted back to Jinji. All he wanted to do was see her, the need punctured his gut, urgent as he thought of how he had left her this morning. Serene in sleep, more peaceful than Rhen had ever remembered seeing his friend's face. More beautiful, too. The memory was hard to suppress as it fluttered up to the forefront of his mind.

Rhen woke to a gentle yellow glow spreading across the horizon. Confused for a moment, he sat up, but a weight rested on his side. Looking down, honey brown skin greeted him.

Jinji.

And suddenly he remembered running to her rooms the night before, needing more than anything to know that someone understood him, accepted him, did not fear the power curling under his skin.

His fingers rose, brushing the silky skin of her cheek as a smile pulled at his lips. As always, she had been there when he needed her the most.

Jinji stirred under his touch. Her hand crept up his chest, barely brushing his shirt as she shifted her weight, but heat flooded his veins nonetheless. Rhen breathed deeply, but no amount of cool air could quell the boil rising in his pulse as the woman in his arms pressed ever tighter against him.

More than anything, in that moment he wished to lean his head down and brush her slightly open mouth with his. Rhen stared, mesmerized by the air slowly rolling in and out of the space between her rosy lips.

And then a knock sounded, quiet, discreet, but distracting enough. A head poked through. Whyllem. Rhen's eyes widened, caught.

"When you weren't in your rooms, I thought I might find you here," his brother whispered.

"Nothing happened," Rhen quickly assured, with the barest hint of regret in his voice. He licked his lips, nervously waiting for his brother's response. Disapproval? A lecture?

Whyllem just grinned. "There's a first time for everything."

The tension in the air dissipated just as quickly as it came. Whyllem might not like it, but he accepted it—whatever it was. Rhen himself still wasn't entirely sure, but he couldn’t deny that part of him, a large part, desperately wanted to find out.

"Come on, little brother." Whyllem sighed. "It's time to see the ships off."

Rhen nodded, and Whyllem slipped back through the door, closing it silently behind him, leaving Rhen just a few more minutes alone with Jinji.

He stood, lifting her small body easily, and laid her gently on the bed. A sigh escaped her lips and she turned toward him, as though even in sleep she could feel his arms slip away. Goosebumps rose along her torso, cold now that his body heat was gone, and Rhen tucked blankets around her.

Hovering just above her face, Rhen stared for a moment, wondering what dreams had brought the slight smile softening her features. And before he could stop himself, he brought his lips against her skin, kissing her forehead, stealing a moment that did not belong to him—at least not yet.

Careful not to wake her, he pulled away, controlling his wayward lips before they found another target, a more dangerous one. Without another glance, he walked away, trying to ignore the depression spreading down his limbs as he realized Jinji would wake alone, perhaps without the memory that he was ever there at all.

"Rhen," Whyllem called, snapping him back to reality.

Fighting to clear his mind, Rhen waited, foot hovering over the top stair, until his elder brother caught up. A hand landed heavily on his shoulder. Whyllem sighed, whispering, "You did well, brother. Better than me."

Rhen shook his head, pushing thoughts of Jinji from his mind to focus on his sibling. "Not better, Whyllem. We're both doing what we can. And the city is safe for another day."

"I suppose," Whyllem murmured, but Rhen heard the doubt in his tone. And something else, something harder he could not place. Determination. Resolution.

Rather than push the point, Rhen remained silent as they descended the steps and approached the royal carriage that had carried Whyllem to the wall. A few yards away, Ember waited for Rhen, already impatiently neighing now that she had seen his face. Rhen wanted to pat her hair, smooth it down and whisper that he too was feeling impatient to get home, to escape the wall, to find a certain someone.

Rhen turned to bid his brother farewell, but Whyllem hesitated before entering the royal coach—one foot in and one foot glued to the ground. After a moment, he gently lowered. Rhen held his breath, waiting for the speech blazing behind his brother's eyes. Fierce. Passionate.

"Rhen," Whyllem began, squaring his shoulders. And for the first time he could remember, his brother's voice held true weight—a note of authority that was unfamiliar. But before Whyllem could continue, a king's guard ran to them, panting, out of breath with a sealed note in his hand.

"For the king regent," he said with the hasty bow.

Holding Rhen's gaze for just a moment longer, Whyllem accepted the letter with a deep sigh, thanking the messenger and sending him away. Rhen released his breath, fixing his eyes on the ground, feeling as though he had escaped something, but he wasn't entirely sure what.

Then Whyllem cursed under his breath, and Rhen's brief moment of reprieve ended. Nerves flooded his veins, zapping his heart, as an immediate sense of dread overcame his body.

Was today just a distraction?

Had the Ourthuri struck?

Was Jinji okay?

Questions burned his tongue, too many to ask all at once, so instead he settled on one all encompassing word. "What?"

"Two Ourthuri women snuck into the city this morning."

"How?"

Whyllem shook his head, unsure, and continued reading aloud, disbelief evident in his voice. "They were found on the docks, dripping wet, and have been taken to the castle for questioning. Based on their tattoos, the guards believe it was a princess and her slave."

A princess and her slave?

Rhen shook his head—that made absolutely no sense.

Unless…

He cursed under his breath, realization immediate. "I know who it is."

"Who?"

"Someone who helped me escape King Razzaq."

"A princess?"

Rhen ran a hand through his tangled hair.

"Princess Leenaka," he murmured, voice quiet. The name had run through his mind a thousand times since his escape from Da’astiku, always attached to the golden veiled beauty who had brushed her soft fingers over his cheek, caressing his skin warmly, running a thumb over his lips. The memory stirred, igniting his veins. Rhen had dreamt about her, thought about her. Even now, knowing that in truth the mysterious woman had been Jinji in one of her many disguises, Rhen couldn't help the curiosity stirring his mind.

Who was this princess who helped him escape? This princess Jinji chose to hide behind, another mask his friend pretended to wear? This princess who had never truly met him, but placed her life in his hands?

"I don't think you ever mentioned that part of the story," Whyllem said, nudging his brother with a grin and forgetting for a moment the grave situation of the day. "Another woman? You certainly were busy while you were away."

Rhen shook his head, looking at his brother with exasperation. "Not like that, Whyllem." He sighed. "She… Well, I'm not sure why she helped save me, but she did. And in return, she was promised safe haven in Rayfort if she ran away from her father and her homeland. And it looks like she did."

"You promised protection to an Ourthuri princess? Rhen, what were you thinking?" Whyllem rubbed the ridge of his nose, crinkling the message in his fist. "King Razzaq—"

"King Razzaq tried to kill me once already and is currently waging a war against our people. There isn’t much left for him to do, whether we help the princess or not. Besides, I made a promise."

Rhen bit his tongue, ignoring the fact that Jinji was in fact the one who made the promise—after she convinced the princess to help save his life and usher them to safety. He owed both of them his life.

Speaking of Jinji…

Rhen's pulse quickened beneath his skin, eyes narrowing as he recalled his brother's earlier words. "Did you say the princess came with a slave?"

"Yes…"

Rhen dropped his head into waiting palms, fighting the urge to laugh or cry—he was unsure which. "The gods," he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he fought to regain control over his unruly emotions.

Jinji.

It had to be.

Pain pricked his chest as he remembered the gruesome scars circling her wrists, cuts from the shackles that had bound her hands while she was left for dead in the dungeons, before Rhen woke and rescued her from that dark fate. Too late though—he had been too late. Long sleeves hid the marks, but Rhen had not forgotten they were there. And with those branding her copper skin, Jinji was easy to mistake for an unmarked Ourthuri.

Arrested twice already…

Rhen closed his eyes tight, wishing he could turn back time, wishing he had never left her alone this morning. Convincing his family and his people to embrace an oldworlder was hard enough. Convincing them to embrace an oldworlder who had been arrested for the attempted murder of a prince and a queen was verging on impossible. But convincing them to embrace an oldworlder who had also been accused of being an enemy spy? The scenario was becoming downright ridiculous.

Indeed, one side of Rhen's mouth lifted up in disbelief, but it quickly fell as the image of Jinji bound and chained, bleeding and bruised once more, erased all of the mirth from his mind, leaving a dark rage in its place.

"Rhen," Whyllem yelled, sensing his brother's changing mood. But Rhen was already retreating, jumping on Ember, turning to the castle.

"I'll meet you there," he called over his shoulder. Moments later, he was flying over cobblestone as Ember's hooves pounded in his ears.

9

JINJI

~ RAYFORT ~

The ropes around Jinji's wrists felt all too familiar, turning her stomach over and making her heart run rapidly in her chest. Already, old wounds began to burn, to sting. Already, the darkness of the dungeons began to close in, blocking out the real world.

We're in a carriage.

Jinji repeated the phrase over and over, singeing the truth into her mind. She was not back in the endless ebony, not back behind bars. Metal did not break open her skin, did not bind her, did not hold her captive.

But darkness had never been Jinji's friend, and even the dull light seeping through cracks in the windowless carriage were not enough to quell her mounting panic.

The shadow.

Jinji's eyes widened at the thought. Were those white eyes peering at her through the black? Was an old nightmare returning in her time of weakness?

No…

Jinji began to count her long breaths, to count the bumps in the road as the wheels below them rattled, to count the sighs of the woman beside her. Focusing on the numbers, her body calmed. The pulse raging through her veins slowed. The vise around her heart slackened. The spots in her vision receded.

As the terror subsided, Jinji found her voice. Needing a distraction, she whispered, "Leena, are you all right?"

The princess sighed once more before murmuring, "I never expected a warm welcome, and I've been through far worse than this."

"As have I," Jinji replied quietly.

"Do you know if they will take us to the prince?"

Jinji bit her lip, thinking back to the scene on the dock not too long ago. When the guards had seized her by the arms, Jinji tried to explain her relationship with Rhen, how she was his guest at the palace. But they did not listen. One look at the scars around her wrists, at the tattoos intricately staining the princess's arms, and their eyes filled with mistrust, completely impenetrable. Before she could utter more than two sentences, she and Princess Leenaka had been bound by ropes and thrown into a prison carriage, where they resided now, rolling to an unknown location.

"I hope so," Jinji said, "but an army rests outside the walls, an army of soldiers from your homeland, so I doubt the guards will take care to treat us kindly. I expect they'll send word to the king, so one way or another, Rhen will find us."

But when? After how many more days in the dungeons?

Jinji released a long, heavy breath and pushed those gloomy questions from her mind. If she knew Rhen, she knew one thing—he would come as fast as he was able.

"Much has changed since we last saw each other," the princess whispered, voice low and full of sadness. "I have lost someone I love. I have abandoned my family. I have betrayed my people. And I have defied my father. But if I can bring an end to this war before it truly begins, if I can help overthrow my king, then everything will be worth it…almost everything."

Moved by the conviction in her words, Jinji reached through the dark, finding the princess's bound hands. Though they trembled, Jinji held on tight, knowing exactly how it felt to be completely alone in the world—and just how life-changing one person's friendship could be.

"I noticed that you no longer hide your face, that you now wear the clothes of woman and not of man…" The princess trailed off, not asking a question but leaving room for Jinji to answer.

"A lot has also changed in Whylkin since we last spoke." A small smile graced Jinji's lips, but she wasn't fully sure why. The memory of the shadow stabbing Rhen, the time in the dungeons, the unfamiliarity of the castle—none of these were happy memories. And yet, despite all of that, Jinji was glad her secret had finally been revealed. Not all of the recent changes were unwelcome.

Like the night before.

Falling asleep in Rhen's arms.

But before the warm memory could take hold, the carriage jammed to a halt and the door beside them was thrown violently open. Rough hands grabbed Jinji's shoulders, pulling her out of the opening so she tumbled into dirt and grass before being dragged into a standing position. The guard latched his fingers around the ropes binding her hands, tugging her forward impatiently.

Looking around, Jinji recognized the polished white stones of the castle, and a warm burst of relief filled her chest. But it was short-lived as she was yanked in the opposite direction, toward the surrounding wall, and shoved through a wooden door. Leena followed behind as they were led down a narrow hallway and discarded in a small cell.

At least it's not the dungeon.

Jinji glanced around, eyes scanning the multitude of torches lining the wall as well as the other empty cells around them, and determined this must be a temporary holding pen. But anything was better than the damp, dark underground. A shiver raced down her spine as the screams echoed across her mind, haunting even as a memory.

Behind her, the princess stood proudly. Despite the moist clothes sticking to her skin, no slouch bent her shoulders, no frown turned her lips, no exhaustion graced her frame. Instead, she held her chin high, her spine straight—the sort of pose only a lifetime of lessons could teach.

Jinji, on the other hand, gave in and rested her weary legs, sinking to the floor under the weight of her dress, twice as heavy now that it was soaked through. With her back against the wall, she hugged her knees to her chest and waited.

"How did you find me?" she asked after a few silent moments, curiosity getting the best of Jinji as her thoughts wandered to the princess's rescue an hour before. "How did you happen to see me in the water, to save me?"

"Luck." The princess sighed and then finally turned a dazzling smile in Jinji's direction, pushing her somber mood to the side. "Probably the same luck that brought us together in Da'astiku, the same luck that made it possible to save your prince. The ship that carried me away from my homeland is currently docked in Rayfort's harbor. I recognized you the instant I saw you and did not hesitate to dive into the icy waters the moment I saw you slip under."

The moment the princess finished speaking, the spirits flooded Jinji's vision, reminding her of a fact she could not believe she had almost forgotten. Blue spirit threads, water threads, pulsed around the princess, surrounding her in an aqua haze brighter even than the turquoise waters of the White Stone Sea. The glow pulsed as the spirits flowed around her body, undulating in an invisible current across her skin.

A water affinity.

The princess was chosen by the spirits, just like Rhen. But rather than touch fire, she was alive with cool liquid tides. Jinji had noticed it the first time she and the princess had met—in fact, that knowledge was the only reason Jinji had found the faith to reveal her magic to the princess, thereby gaining her trust and help in saving Rhen.

Luck had nothing to do with it.

A fist tightened around Jinji's heart, cramping her chest, stealing the breath from her body. The princess had no idea of the danger she was in.

"Leena, do you remember when you asked why I no longer wore the face of boy?" The princess nodded, giving Jinji all the encouragement she needed to continue. The words tumbled from her lips, frantic, desperate, as a sense of panic zapped her heart. "It was not by choice. I never meant to reveal myself, but there is an evil force—a darkness I know only as the shadow—that is killing spirit users like you. It can take possession of a person's body, can control them. When we first met, I didn't know what it wanted, but it tried to murder Rhen, and I realized the truth too late. He is alive by a miracle, and I do not want your fate to be the same."

Jinji paused, watching as the princess turned to her, umber eyes alight with understanding.

"Tam…" she whispered.

"What?" Jinji bit her lip, hanging on Leena's next words.

"He was my friend, is my friend," the princess said, tone hushed as her eyes retreated back into her memories, growing haunted. "He was in my rooms one afternoon, helping to plan my escape, when his eyes suddenly glazed over, grew the most vacant white I have ever seen. And then he attacked. I barely got out alive, I had to…had to hurt him…"

Jinji jumped to her feet, all weariness gone from her limbs. With her hands still bound, she reached out for Leena, ignoring the burn as her wrists chaffed from the movement.

"When did this happen?" Jinji asked, tone grave as her fingers clutched Leena's olive skin, deforming the tattoos on her bicep.

"Not two weeks ago," the princess muttered, eyes clearing as she shook her head, regaining her stoic poise.

Jinji stepped back, mouth dropping open as the fight left her body. It was all she could do not to fall as her legs began to wobble, and she stumbled back, leaning against the bars for support.

The voice. The shadow. The spirit dragon.

The voice.

The voice.

The voice.

Jinji blinked, trying to clear her jumbled thoughts.

The voice had first spoken to her no less than four weeks ago, perhaps even more time than that. If the shadow tried to attack Leena only two weeks before, then the voice had been speaking the truth all along. The shadow was not trapped inside her head as she dreaded but also desired—it was still free, still attacking people, still killing people.

The voice was the spirit dragon, the guardian of the living world—something that had been with her since birth. Jinji gasped with the realization that her life had never truly been her own. Every time she had touched the spirits, the voice had been with her—silent, but present. Guiding her. Deciding her fate.

Jinji's eyes slipped closed as her mind whirled with the possibilities, causing her head to spin and her balance to go dizzy. Why hadn't the voice come to her sooner? Could it have saved her people? Could she have done something more? Could she have saved Janu?

Jin.

Get out! Jinji ached to scream the words out loud, but then she realized that no one in the world called her Jin except for Rhen, not even in her own head.

"Jin!" The sound came again, and this time she opened her eyes, realizing that the word was spoken aloud, not by the voice but by someone she was overjoyed to see.

There he was, charging down the hall—hair flaming red, echoing the anger spewing from his gaze. In no time, Rhen unlocked the gate, flinging the bars to the side. Without pausing to glance at the princess, he strode forward, never taking his brilliant green eyes off of her.

"Are you all right?" he asked as his hands rose to cup her cheeks, drinking her in as his gaze wandered over every crevice of her face. Jinji's cheeks warmed under his scrutiny, but she did not look away—could not even if she wanted to. He continued speaking, not bothering to wait for an answer. "I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I heard. The gods, I think I punched one of the guards just to let my anger out on someone. But I commanded them to treat you as a lady of the court—not as a criminal!"

"Rhen." She sighed. Immediately, he slackened, relaxing to the lull of her voice. "I'm all right."

With one tug, Rhen pulled Jinji into his arms, ignoring the dampness of her clothes and enveloping her in a tight hug. But as soon as their bodies molded, Jinji couldn’t help but release a small hiss of pain as the ropes binding her hands cut agonizingly deep. The residue of salt water only enhanced the sting.

"What…" Rhen trailed off, and his eyes grew three shades darker as they landed on her hands. Grabbing the dagger from his belt, Rhen cut through the knots in one fluid motion, gently brushing his fingers over the raw, red skin around her wrists. A frown thinned his lips, drawing them tight, but Jinji slid one hand free of his hold and lifted it to his cheek.

"It's okay," she murmured.

He sighed heavily but didn't protest. And they stayed like that, touching, embracing, until a gentle cough caused each to turn their head a few inches to the side.

Leena watched on. A small, secretive smile played across her lips and her eyes sparkled with dancing lights—as though she knew something the two of them did not. But rather than enlighten Jinji, the princess remained silent. Yet the air still seemed full of quiet laughter, joyous, as though the spirits were in on the joke as well.

The spell broke as Rhen jumped away, suddenly remembering he had a guest, and bowed deeply. "Princess Leena, welcome to Rayfort. I apologize that the welcome was not as, well, welcoming as you probably hoped it would be. But I assure you, my promise of providing you safe haven has not been forgotten."

"Prince Whylrhen." Leena curtsied, movements elegant in ways Jinji knew hers would never be. "It's an honor to be here. And a pleasure to see you again, conscious this time."

Both royals smirked.

"I try," Rhen drawled, shaking his head ever so slightly.

Heat burned Jinji's chest as she watched a scene more painful than the open scrapes along her skin. This hurt ached deep in her bones, down to her very core, as though it clenched her soul, suffocating it.

Against her will, Jinji's thoughts drifted back to those long days aboard the Skipping Stone, after their escape from Da'astiku, when Rhen had grown more and more attached to the golden goddess who visited him in his dreams. Not a day passed when he did not mention her to his friend Jin, tell the boy what a vision she was, what a dream. And the entire time, Jinji the woman remained silent.

A thousand times, she wished to shout, It was me! But a thousand times, she bit her tongue, quietly encouraging Rhen's infatuation to a foreign princess she thought they would never see again.

Had she missed her chance?

Did she ever have a chance?

Watching them now, Jinji couldn't help but notice how easy it would be. A prince and a princess. Two people from the same fold of life. A marriage that would form an alliance between two warring nations. Far easier than an outcast, a woman from a forgotten people, a woman with no political ties, a woman with short hair that would never grow and dark skin that would never bleach.

As she shrunk back against the cool white stone, Jinji took note of how they both stood taller than her, straight and strong. One, a man with peachy skin, one, a woman with olive undertones, but both carrying the exact same air of importance, the same stature—something Jinji would never possess.

"Jin?" Rhen asked, looking at her with a strange expression on his face, confused almost.

She realized the conversation had continued on without her, that she missed a question they spoke in her direction. But the bars of the cell were closing in, making her breath come short.

"I have to go," Jinji whispered.

"But," Rhen started, but she silenced him with her eyes—eyes she knew had filled with gloom, with doubt.

"I have to go," she repeated, louder.

Jinji glanced between the two of them, heart prickling, but knew she had better things to do than watch Rhen's dreams finally unfold. For the first time in weeks, Jinji had a lead on the shadow, an upper hand, and she could not waste the opportunity. The voice had answers and Jinji intended to find them.

At least that’s what she told herself as she fled from the cell, leaving the royals speechless in her wake. But she did not look back once as her feet flew down the hall, out across the yard and into the castle looming overhead. Within minutes, she was closing the door to her bedroom, gulping down cool air as the solitude closed in around her.

"I need to speak with you," she said aloud to an empty room. But she needed to press forward before she lost her nerve, before her mind drifted back to the two people still talking in the cell downstairs.

The voice did not respond.

Jinji collapsed on the bed, hugging a soft pillow to her torso as she curled her knees into her chest.

"I must speak with you," she whispered, fighting the emotions forming a knot in her throat.

I'm here.

Warm relief shot down her spine. "I know you are not the shadow. I know you are who you said you are, the spirit dragon, the guardian."

Good. Do you trust me now? Will you let me in?

"I need to ask you a question first."

Anything.

"Why did the shadow come back? What does it want?"

Revenge.

"Against who?"

Me…for breaking my promise.

Just as Jinji was about to ask a question, her vision grew spotty, faded away until she was back in the void of her mind, the place between consciousness where she had last been hours before, on the docks, moments before drowning. The spirit dragon was going to give her another memory, an explanation, Jinji knew it just as a light blinked into existence behind her eyelids…

Outside the window, dusk was beginning to take hold. With each new shade of darkness creeping forth, her heart sank further and the sense of dread weighing on her chest grew heavier. But she continued to climb, white stone steps passed under her feet, over and over again the higher she ascended.

Until a new color invaded her vision.

Red.

One small droplet stained the rock, but it was enough. Terror coursed through her system and she began to run. A river of red flowed down the steps, soaking her feet, staining the bottom of her skirts. As she crested the top step, a scream tore free from her gut, jagged, coarse as though shredding her from the inside out.

Dead.

They were all dead.

Fifty men, women, children—her friends, her life, her pupils.

Her lover. She saw his blue eyes from across the room, open in death as though searching for her, searching for salvation. Somehow, someway, she would give it to him.

"I know you're here," she called, voice raspy as it echoed against the walls around her.

"I am."

He stepped out from behind a white column, once pristine but now splattered in blood. Without thinking, she drew the knife from her belt and threw it with all of her strength. He stepped easily out of the path, laughing quietly to himself.

"You know better than that." He shook his head. "If you kill this body, I will just find another innocent to possess. You didn't really think I would come in my original form, did you?"

"No," she whispered, body shaking in rage. "Why? Why did you do this?"

"Because," he spat, stepping over the bodies, coming closer, "you play in this world and forget about me, leave me alone for thousands of years, living a life I can never be a part of. We are supposed to be two sides of the same, together for eternity, together in the ether. But you come here, to this spirit world where I cannot follow, and live a million lives. While I am left to watch over the dead, living vicariously through their memories, never feeling anything of my own. But now I feel, I feel too much and it makes me want to hurt you for leaving me so alone for so long."

"I'm doing what I was created to do, guarding the world of the living," she said, but could not stop her eyes from looking away, looking at the floor to cover the lie.

He laughed, lifting his arm and pointing to the empty walls around them. But she knew what he was referencing. She knew it was the truth. "You created them to protect, to guard this realm in your absence. You created men who could control them for you, could do your job for you. No, I do not think you come to this world to guard—you come to live as a human. But you are not human and you never will be."

As he spoke, her eyes swept the room, listening to his words while she absorbed the destruction surrounding her. Even now, deep within her soul, she heard the cries of a thousand humans outside these walls, yelling to be saved, praying to be saved. But the souls of the dead could not be beat, especially not now with her soldiers dead around her. She had already flooded the lands, called the survivors as close to her power as she could, but her shadow-self was relentless.

It was time to finally admit defeat.

"What would you have me do?" she asked, voice softer than a whisper.

"Come home and never leave me again. Let us live out eternity the way it was intended."

He closed the distance between them and grabbed her hand, squeezing her palm. She looked up, seeing beyond the human body he wore, to the person she knew better than herself. He was not evil, not really. Every person he killed would be reborn in a new age—eventually he would grant them life again. He had never felt human emotions, he did not understand how permanent death felt, even to her, someone who understood that these souls would grace her spirit world again.

But would those blue eyes ever look at her the same? With compassion?

She closed her lids tight, wincing with the pain.

The floor was decorated with her dead loved ones, and for the first time, she understood how alone her shadow-self must have felt every time she left him, every time she lived a life without him, every time he was abandoned in the ether with no one to talk to, never knowing when she would return.

"I promise," she said, swallowing, lifting her gaze from the floor. "Bring the souls of the dead back to your shadow realm, remove yourself from this world, and I will follow you. I will remain in the ether for the rest of time, by your side, in our true forms. I promise."

"If you break that promise, you know I will follow you back here."

"I know."

The body before her shivered and his blank eyes cleared, returning to the warm brown of the original body, letting her know her shadow-self was gone. Those same eyes widened in horror, in confusion, but before he had a chance to scream, she used the spirits to silence him, to send him on his way back home.

Then she waited, holding her dead lover in her arms, until she felt the shadow disappear from her world, felt his soul drift away from her grasp.

"Goodbye," she whispered, leaning down to touch her lips to the cold forehead in her lap. Then she rose, and without hesitation, plunged a knife through her heart…

Jinji gasped, sitting up on the bed as awareness returned, clutching her chest as though somehow the knife would still be there.

But it wasn't.

The walls around her were white, but they were decorated with woven tapestries and wooden furniture, not gruesome splatters of blood. She was still in Rayfort. Still at the castle. Still herself.

The voice’s memory faded, leaving more questions in its wake.

"Why did you return?" she asked.

Because I had to, the voice said, ever so soft, a slight tremble in the tone. And then it was gone, fleeing back into the corners of her mind, demanding solace.

"Come back," she whispered.

But the voice was gone.

And Jinji wasn't sure when, if ever, it would return.

10

RHEN

~ RAYFORT ~

"Jin!" Rhen called, but it was too late. She had already disappeared down the hall and out the door, gone in the blink of an eye. Slowly, he turned back around, eyes wide. "What…?"

The princess released a small breath of air, sounding almost like a soft laugh. "I'm sure you'll understand soon."

"Do you understand?" Rhen raised an eyebrow, questioning.

She just nodded her head, though the mysterious bend of her lips hinted at a smile. "I'm a woman, of course I understand."

Rhen knotted his brows, more confused than ever—but at least this was a familiar confusion. Not about war. Not about magic. Not about the future. Just a normal, everyday experience for men all across the kingdom.

Women…

Rhen shrugged with a sigh. They were a concept he might never understand, but in truth, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to.

"Princess," he began, struggling to get back on topic.

"Just Leena, please. I'm no longer the princess I was."

Rhen looked up, meeting the haunt in her dark umber eyes. Though her words said one thing, everything else about her screamed royalty. The authority in her stance, the graceful way she held her head just half an inch too high, the command in her voice. As if that weren't enough, elegant tattoos swirled up her tan arms, branding her undeniably as a princess. But Rhen just nodded, keeping those thoughts to himself. If anyone understood running away, abandoning the throne, seeking normalcy, it was him.

"Leena, then," he said. "Why did you come?"

"I came for many reasons…" She paused, swallowing, slipping her gaze to the floor before meeting his eyes once more. "But they all combine to one—my father is an evil man and he must be stopped. I will not allow him to rule over any kingdom any longer."

"I have experienced the wrath of King Razzaq myself, a fate you once saved me from. But is he not your father? Do you truly share no loyalty?" Rhen's chest tightened, sorry to question her faith so quickly, but it needed to be done.

"Do you love your family, Prince Whylrhen?"

Rhen narrowed his gaze, wondering where his answer would lead, but spoke truthfully. "I do."

"And your new nephew, the future king? Do you love him? Would you do anything for him?"

"I would," Rhen responded, mind drifting to little Whyllean—just a baby too young to be a king, too young to be fatherless. Rhen had already sacrificed much to protect his nephew—his very identity had been victim to the cause, no longer Rhen to people, now Lord of Fire in their eyes. But he would do whatever it took to keep the child alive, to keep his family alive.

"Then you will never understand what it means to be Ourthuri," she confessed, voice as hard as the metals of her homeland. Eyes glazing over, the princess continued in a furious whisper, tone wavering with the strength of her anger. "It means we do not love, we fear. I have twelve sisters—not a single one would hesitate to kill me if they saw me now. I have one brother—a little boy I love more than anyone else alive in this world. But he is turning into a stranger before my eyes, no longer the caring toddler I once knew. No—my father is warping him, twisting him just like the gold bands that adorn his cold body, molding him into the proper shape. And I cannot stand idly by, watching as my kingdom is cursed to another harsh reign, another king who favors punishment above praise, another king who rules by fear."

Leena paused, breathing heavily. Rhen remained silent, moved by the conviction in her words, saddened by the bleak picture she painted.

"You are fighting a war to save your kingdom. And I am fighting one to save mine," she finished solemnly.

Just as Rhen parted his lips to reply, feet pounded against stone, echoing down the hall, growing louder as the distance closed. Without turning, Rhen already knew who it was. Sealing his open mouth, he waited for the inevitable interruption, which came only a few moments later.

"Where is the second one? The slave?" Whyllem asked as he entered the cell, face red from running, voice a pant.

"There was never a slave," Rhen said, gritting his teeth as a new bout of heat ran through his veins. "The guards mistook the Lady Jinji for an Ourthuri slave due to the scars around her wrists, but I released her and sent her back to her rooms."

Both Leena and Whyllem smirked at his comment—each for different reasons. Leena he was sure remembered Jinji's exit quite differently. And Whyllem, well, there could be a multitude of reasons behind the smile widening his brother's cheeks and the wicked glint flaring to life in his eyes. Perhaps he recalled catching Rhen in her rooms this morning. Or maybe it was the realization as to why Rhen had left in such anger. Or…

"That explains the guard with a bloody nose outside," Whyllem drawled.

Oh, right... Rhen flexed his fingers, knuckles sore now that the memory had resurfaced.

Before Rhen could think of a response, Leena stepped forward, curtsying with her head bowed. "I am Leena, former princess of Ourthuro, and I thank you for the protection the family of Whyl has offered me."

"Are we offering it?" Whyllem asked, question pointed at Rhen.

The princess stood, closing her eyes, holding them tightly shut in a prolonged wince, before also turning her attention to Rhen.

"We are," he affirmed, voice solid. He would not be alive if this woman had not helped save his life. His family would not be alive if she had not helped in his escape from Da'astiku. And more than anything, he knew Jinji trusted her—which meant he would trust her too.

Whyllem stepped forward, accepting Rhen's words. His posture held more authority than Rhen ever remembered seeing, as though suddenly his brother was accepting the role of king regent in a way he never had before. "Then allow me to be blunt. Can you help us win this war?"

"A dear friend of mine was able to gather information for me before I left. It is not much, but I pray that it will help."

"Anything will."

She paused, taking a deep breath. Everything up to now had been hypothetical, Rhen realized—she dreamt of working against her father, dallied in minor rebellions like saving him, other things he would likely never know. But right now, betraying secrets that would get her kingdom's army killed, now she truly was a traitor.

If she could follow through.

And she did.

"My father seeks an attack by sea above all else," she said, voice deep but not weak, not wavering. Once the words began, they tumbled out in earnest. "At least fifty ships wait in Da'astiku, leaving in a week's time if my information is correct. They will travel through the Straits, directing their attack on Rayfort. The lords of your homeland are camped outside, but they are not to engage until my father's ships arrive, until you are surrounded. And then the siege will begin in earnest, not ending, not slowing until the entire city is leveled or the family of Whyl has surrendered."

Rhen narrowed his gaze, prepared to ask a question when Whyllem interrupted, beating him to the words.

"How do they plan to make it through the Straits unharmed? A third of our army waits on those cliffs, ready to attack from above."

"I know." Leena nodded, turning a sorry look on both brothers. "My father knows and they expect your men to be there. Only half of the land army waits outside your walls, and the other half was sent to resecure the Straits so the Ourthuri ships could pass freely. I'm not sure when they will arrive, but I expect it will be soon. And with the cliffs at their back, your men will be surrounded. Knowing what I know of this kingdom, I doubt they will die without a fight—but they will die eventually."

Whyllem cursed under his breath, soft enough so Rhen could not make out the word, but he was pretty sure it was the same one rolling off of his lips. Outnumbered. Outthought. Out…everything.

Did they have any chance of winning this war? Did they ever?

"Rhen," his brother murmured, sounding loud in the deafening silence, "please take the princess to her new home and then meet me in the throne room. I need a few minutes alone to think."

"I will, brother," Rhen said, speaking to Whyllem's back as the king regent slipped free of the cell—but not free of his responsibility. "Follow me, Leena."

She did, quietly.

No words were exchanged as Rhen led her outside, across the courtyard, pausing only to inform the guards that the princess was no longer their prisoner, but a guest, and they would do well to spread the word before he gave someone else a broken nose.

The nobles inside the castle paused, eyeing the girl openly as they passed with glares full of hatred and contempt. Gazes dropped to the tattoos freely displayed on her arms, black ink that was hard to miss, especially when the gown she wore was cut in her homeland's style—sleeveless. Rhen got his fair share of angry stares too—for carting another foreign woman around the castle, for showing an enemy kindness, for ignoring the perfectly acceptable ladies of the court standing all around him.

But the crowd thinned as they neared the guest corridor, and it wasn't long before the two of them came to a stop beside an open door.

"These will be your rooms, Leena," he said and motioned for her to enter. "A servant will be here shortly to help with anything you might need."

As the princess walked past, Rhen noticed for the first time how different she was—how the people of his city might see her. The green hints in her complexion. The brands along her arms. The deep ebony shade of her long hair, still dripping with seawater, making it shine. Leena was taller than Jinji and narrow, yet graced with curves. She would never pass for a boy, not in the same way, especially not with her large brown eyes, just a bit too big for her face but more beautiful that way. Back in Ourthuro, draped in the golden silks and sparkling jewels of her homeland, she was probably a marvel to behold.

But here in Whylkin, Rhen felt nothing but sympathy.

"It will get easier," he said suddenly, unsure what sadness weighed on her heart, but knowing it was there and it was still raw.

Leena paused in the doorway, gaze almost even with his. "How do you know that, Son of Whyl?"

"Because…" he shrugged, thoughts drifting to Jinji, the strongest person he knew. "It has to."

The princess smiled again, but it was weak, halfway to a frown as she shook her head. "No, it doesn’t, Prince Whylrhen, things can always get worse. But you are right in a way—it will get easier. I know that in my heart."

"How?" Rhen asked, searching for the secret behind her words, sensing it was the key to his own future, his own happiness.

"Because I'm in love with an amazing man. And though he is now no more than ash in the wind, his memory gives me the strength to do what I must."

And with that, Leena shut the door in his face, leaving Rhen no explanation, just a knot in the pit of his stomach. He was so close—to what, he wasn't sure, but something important, something the princess understood, something that would open his eyes.

Against his will, Rhen's head shifted to the left, down the hall to another wooden door closed against him.

Jinji.

Her rooms were just fifteen feet farther down the guest hall, barely out of reach. More than anything, he wished to look into her warm, golden glittered eyes and see if they held the answers he searched for. But far away in the throne room, his brother waited for him, his kingdom needed him, and matters of the heart could wait.

At least, he hoped so.

Squeezing his fists, Rhen turned in the opposite direction, marching heavy feet toward his family and toward duty.

A few minutes later, he passed through the open doors of the throne room, breath skipping as it always did upon entering this space. The vaulted ceilings towered no less than a hundred feet overhead, arches folding over one another, falling in pristine white columns to the floor. Sun poured through the glass wall at the end of the room, silhouetting the carved stone throne, hiding the man who sat upon it in shadow. And beyond the glass, Rayfort was a wonder to behold—the colorful mix of tiles and stone roofs, the crystal cerulean waters of the White Stone Sea. The jagged peaks of the Gates were visible in the perfectly clear sky.

"Rhen," Whyllem called.

Walking farther into the room, he searched for his brother underneath the shade obscuring the throne. As the angle of the sun shifted, bringing his brother's image into perfect clarity, Rhen gasped.

Never before had he looked so much like their father.

It was more than his brilliant red hair, stark against the white stone behind his back. More than the grooves cutting across his forehead, aging him. More than the red cape draped over his shoulders, cascading to the floor. It was the power in his voice, the breadth of his stature, the way Rhen felt suddenly small in his presence.

"Rhen," Whyllem said again, quieter now. "I realized something today, as we stood on the wall facing enemy fire, as everyone looked to me for orders, turned to me for direction. Tarin is gone and he's never coming back."

Rhen scrunched his brows, waiting as Whyllem dropped his lids closed, squeezing tight for a brief moment.

"I knew he was dead," Whyllem said, voice strained. "I knew I was named king regent, to rule in his stead. I knew all of those things. But until today, looking my future straight in the eyes, I didn't truly know what it meant. I didn’t understand what it was to be a leader. But I do now and I promise, I will never freeze again. I'm ready."

Rhen sighed, running a hand through his hair, struggling against the burn behind his eyes. "I know you are."

"Good, because I'm going to ask you to do something and I'm confident you won't like it."

Rhen frowned. "'What?"

"Leave Rayfort."

His stomach dropped, plummeting, replaced by a painful void as every nerve in his body flared to life. Stepping forward, Rhen shook his head, fumbling for words. "No, Whyllem…no…I won't…"

Whyllem lifted his hand for silence. Against his instincts, Rhen obeyed his king. "I'm not asking, Rhen, and I'm sorry. I've been selfish delaying this for so long, because I did not want to lose the only brother I have left. But Whyllean is too young to be away from his mother, and I am king regent, I cannot leave. You, though, you can escape while there is still time. You can keep the bloodline alive."

Hardening his gaze, Rhen crossed his arms. "You speak as though we have already lost. As though hope is gone."

"No, Rhen, I speak the truth," Whyllem said. The pity in his gaze was hard to miss. "You have always lived in dreams, brother, that is why we all love you. But here are the facts. An army far larger than ours waits outside the gates. Another roams the cliffs, obliterating our first line of defense. And a third will arrive by ship soon enough. I will lead the fight until there is no breath left in me, but there is a very large chance that I will fail. And if I do, the city is lost. But if you escape, then in a small way, we will have won."

"But…but," he stammered, grasping for denial, grasping for an argument. "What about the Lord of Fire? I am giving the people hope. I am helping in ways that no one else in the world could."

"And you have been wonderful," Whyllem agreed, "but that time is over. You told me before that you cannot wield the fire, that you cannot manipulate it. So when the armies really attack, what will the Lord of Fire do? When the people call for him to blanket our enemies in flames, shout that the Lord of Fire will save them, what then?"

"I'll do what I can," Rhen murmured as a vise closed around his heart.

But his brother was relentless as he continued, drawing an even grimmer picture with his words. "When the people see their prayers go unanswered, see that their Lord of Fire cannot single-handedly defeat our enemies, watch as their friends die around them—in those moments, their hope will fall lower than it’s ever been, and it will break them."

Rhen refused to give in, to give up. "And what will you tell them when I leave? How will you keep their hope alive when they realize I ran away, that even the Lord of Fire believes the city is doomed?"

Crossing his hands in his lap, Whyllem delivered the final blow. "I'm going to tell them that their Lord of Fire, their savior, has been sent on a mission, sent to find a weapon that will protect us all. That way, even in the darkest hour of the battle, when all is lost, the people will still have hope, will still believe you might save them."

"That is cruel, Whyllem," Rhen whispered, voice grave as he stared at a brother he hardly recognized. Is this what power did to people? Changed them in the blink of an eye?

"Kings are cruel, Rhen, they have to be when the fate of their kingdom is on the line."

"No, they don't," he said softly, but loud enough to make his brother wince.

Whyllem swallowed, sitting taller. "You'll leave tomorrow morning, before dawn while the cover of darkness still holds. I'm going to prepare a ship big enough for two, so you will not be alone. But the vessel will be small enough to escape attention."

He paused, waiting for Rhen to object, to protest. But Rhen just hung his head, defeated. Whyllem was king, and there was little he could do against that, even as the Lord of Fire. If Whyllem told the guards to throw him out the front gate and lock the door, they would. If he told them to tie him up and sail him across the sea, they would. If he tried to hide within the city, the people would see him, would lose hope to see their prince brought so low. So Rhen would give in, just this once, to what his king commanded.

He would hold his honor.

He would do as he was told.

"Where should I go?" he asked, hating the way his words dripped with defeat.

Whyllem stood, placing a hand on Rhen's shoulder, affectionate as though he hated his plan too. "To Airedale, to Brython. Anywhere but here. I will provide supplies to change your appearance. Dyes for your hair, scissors to cut it short, the clothes of a peasant. Carry your royal seal with you as a sign of your true birthright, but starting tomorrow, you will no longer be a prince. You will be a fugitive. King Razzaq will never stop hunting you. So use the normal life you always wanted as a cover, and above all else, live."

Rhen dropped his head, letting it hang for a moment as he fought for control over his racing pulse. What would it be like to leave his family to their doom, to never stop running? To keep going and going, with no end, no purpose in sight?

Air caught in his throat, stuck, clogging his brain, making him feel dizzy. But there was one thought that granted him a brief moment of reprieve, a quick second to catch his breath. Whyllem had said the boat would be large enough for two.

"I'm bringing Lady Jinji with me," Rhen said. As soon as the words came out, they felt right, meant to be. A sense of peace settled on his limbs, out of place against the turmoil in his mind.

Jinji could weave illusions. Jinji could keep them hidden for the rest of their lives. Jinji had a quest he could latch onto, the search for the shadow, a reason to persevere. And though he did not want to admit it, Rhen just couldn't imagine his future without her.

"I assumed as much," Whyllem told him, offering no protest, just veiled consent.

"And what of the princess? We just promised her safe haven?"

Whyllem shrugged. "It was her choice to look for safe haven here, her choice even though she knew her father's plan. I will offer her a boat and supplies, but there is little else we can do."

Rhen struggled to find a reply, more questions, a way to keep the conversation going. But in the end, he remained silent, eyes glossing over as the inevitability of the situation became clear.

After a few moments, Whyllem left. Rhen waited until the soft thud of his footsteps disappeared before walking to the window.

Rayfort.

He sighed, taking in one last sweeping view of his home, unsure if he would ever see it again. Certainly not so thriving, not so majestic. The siege would see to that.

The white walls would be the first things to go. Catapult fire would make them crumble, collapse in certain sections. Flames would engulf the town in black ash, removing the dazzling colors of wood and tile, removing the aura of life. Debris of rock and stone would be all that remained. Blood would run in rivers down the labyrinth of streets. And the castle…

Rhen closed his eyes tight, trying not to picture it, but the images broke through, relentlessly clear. Whyllem's head would decorate a spike outside the gate, his mother too, maybe Awenine. Baby Whyllean, the future king, not even old enough to walk, but still old enough to become a decoration of defeat. The tapestries, hanging for centuries, would burn away to ash. Ember would inevitably be put down, too unruly to allow any new owner to ride on her back, too proud.

And Rhen, he would be labeled a coward for abandoning his kingdom in its time of need. A traitor. An outcast.

But he would keep his promise to his brother, to his bloodline.

He would live.

Faces flashed before Rhen's eyes, faces he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life. His father. His mother. Tarin. Whyllem. Whyllean. And even Whyllysle, the brother he had lost so many years ago. And when his family ran out, more ghostly images came, featureless but not forgotten, people he would never know but who would die defending his family in his stead.

One after another, they crashed forward, slamming into Rhen's body, drowning him in despair. But he never lost sight of the feeble hope flickering in the back of his mind, an anchor against the storm allowing him to hold onto the little boy who lived in dreams, the man who refused to give in without a fight, the prayer that somehow, someway, he would save them all.

11

JINJI

~ WHITE STONE SEA ~

Jinji smiled as the wind rushed against her cheeks, whipping her short hairs, bringing life back to her face. No more skirts, no more dresses. With the castle far behind them, pants and a shirt had become her wardrobe once more. Staring straight ahead into an endless horizon, only blue water beyond the nose of their small boat, Jinji couldn't help but feel free for the first time in weeks.

Yet behind her, surrounded by grave silence, she knew Rhen felt quite differently—trapped, cornered, hopeless.

He had come to her before dinner yesterday—face colorless, movements stiff, voice empty—and told her they would be leaving before dawn. Too worried to ask for an explanation for his abrupt change of mind, Jinji just nodded, swallowing the questions back down for a later time when Rhen was ready. But her answers had come sooner than she expected, when the king visited her room, explaining Rhen's banishment, explaining the need to keep at least one Son of Whyl alive, to keep an heir.

Instantly, everything became clear.

But when Rhen had come to collect her this morning, it was even more evident that he did not want to talk about it. A fake smile graced his lips, a falsely toned happiness played on his voice—the cover of a good mood, the act of a grieving man. And he told her only that the time had come to search for the shadow, to leave the wars of men behind them in order to hunt the real enemy. Jinji let him have his lie.

Hours later, very few words had passed between them. Rhen manned the sail, aiming their boat across the sea toward opposite shores, toward the northern mountains, unless Jinji could come up with a better idea, a different location to stalk the shadow.

But the only clue she had was the nameless castle from the memory the voice had shared with her. Jinji vividly remembered the steps she climbed, the cavernous room littered with the bodies of the dead, the stark intensity of red blood on white stone. Yet Rhen had told her that the castle of Rayfort was the only one built of ivory rock, mined from the Gates themselves, and she knew without a doubt that the scene from the vision was someplace else, someplace she had no idea how to find.

I need help, Jinji said again, trying to reach the voice. But for what seemed like the millionth time today, silence was her only response.

Speak to me! I'm trying to fight the shadow.

Nothing.

I don't know where to go. We need a guide.

The slap of waves on wood was the only sound to fill her ears.

With a sigh, Jinji sat on the deck, folding her legs underneath her and leaning her head against the rail.

The spirit dragon, the guardian, the voice—whatever it was, it was gone. Vanished. After showing her the memory yesterday, it had run away—to grieve in silence, to forget the brutal day it had been forced to relive, to come up with a plan, to surrender. The possibilities were endless. Regardless, the voice had abandoned her, even though she was finally ready and willing to listen.

Jinji gazed at the water passing unhindered below the boat. The sea was calm today. No whiteheads marred the glistening surface, which was kissed by the sun and brightened by a cloudless sky. The wind pressed favorable against their sails, snapping the cloth to keep a straight course. Though Rhen clearly felt as though his world had crashed around him, the spirits felt otherwise, because they had blessed them with a perfect day.

"Rhen," Jinji said, turning around to pull him from his trance.

But as her eyes slid over her shoulder, a black shadow darkened in the peripheral. Whipping her head to the side, Jinji searched for the source. A bird? An overlooked cloud? But she could find nothing, despite the chill creeping its way down her spine.

"Rhe—" Jinji started, but her jaw dropped midway through the word.

Sitting in the middle of the deck, unaffected by the wind, was a cloud of gray mist in the shape of a man.

"The phantom," Rhen murmured, finally pulled out of his thoughts and back into the world.

Jinji swallowed, mesmerized by the swirling smoke, the deep ash, the ghost. Without a doubt, she knew this was an escaped soul—the ones the voice had warned her about, the ones that would destroy the world if the shadow did not return to its realm of the dead and control them. In one of the voice's visions, Jinji had seen mists like these devour an entire army, destroy hundreds of men in the blink of an eye. And yet, no fear stilled her heart, no terror burned her veins.

It was almost as though she knew him.

"Stay back," Rhen whispered. Until hearing his words, Jinji hadn't realized that she'd stood, that she'd started walking toward the figure.

As though sensing her for the first time, the phantom spun. It had no eyes, but its gaze still seared her skin with recognition. The soul knew her too.

Janu?

Jinji ached to say the name aloud. To hope. The mist looked so familiar, even as a faceless ghost, the sensation of knowing, of loving, clenched her gut. She could imagine this reaction with no one else in the world, no other person who had passed into the realm of the shadow.

The phantom floated toward her, moving its feet as though it stepped, as though it still were human. And then it lifted a hand, extending closer and closer to her face, reaching to brush its fingers across her cheek.

Jinji couldn't breathe.

Couldn't move.

Her eyes grew wide as the mist drew closer. Staring into the featureless void, Jinji saw only one face in the dark.

An inch from her skin, it stopped. Not moving. Almost as if pretending it had made contact and now held her in a warm embrace.

"Jin," Rhen warned.

At the sound of his voice, the spell broke. The phantom pulled back, hugging its arms around its torso, retreating. Jinji ached to jump toward it, but held steady, remembering what its touch could do.

Kill.

"Don't lay a hand on it," Rhen continued. "Remember what I said, it did something to me, froze me."

"I know."

Jinji shook her head, trying to clear her mind, to listen to the truth in Rhen's words. He caught her eye and waved her over. She listened, walking cautiously around the phantom, now immobile in the center of the boat, and came to a stop by Rhen's side. He grabbed her hand, weaving their fingers together in a tight embrace.

The phantom's head dipped, invisible eyes dropping to the movements of their hands, and then it shifted back, drifting away until it stood at the very tip of the boat. Raising one hand, it pointed.

"Not this again," Rhen murmured.

But Jinji just let her gaze shift to the side, to the direction the ghost demanded. "Where would that take us?"

Rhen shifted his weight while he thought. "Right now, we're sailing mostly north toward the river to Brython. Shifting west would take us closer to the Straits, to the hills outside of Airedale."

"Is that area safe?"

Rhen shrugged. "It's still across the White Stone Sea from Rayfort. But it's barren. I don't even think small villages line that rocky shore."

Jinji bit her lip, thinking, watching as the phantom continued to point unwaveringly to the horizon. "Let's listen. Let's go where it says."

Rhen opened his mouth, but then let it slowly close, burying his question as his green eyes dropped a shade. Whatever thought he had, it was dark. It made him retreat again until his eyes glazed over, trapped in his memories, and her friend disappeared.

Jinji tore her eyes away, swallowing hard. Time. He needed time. Thinking back to the days when she said goodbye to her home, to her people, Jinji could relate, and she understood how difficult just living in the face of such sadness could be.

Rhen shifted directions until the phantom's arm pointed straight ahead and the boat sailed in its chosen direction. For the next few hours, nothing changed except the gentle creak of Rhen shifting the sail, making sure to stay on course whenever the phantom's aim changed.

When the sun fell and night crept in, the phantom disappeared. Rhen dropped an anchor and they slept. By morn, the dark mist had returned to lead them onward. The process repeated again, time ceasing to exist in the silence—only the sun passing in an arch overhead let Jinji know the day was surging forward. Rhen was consumed by thoughts of his family. Jinji was filled with questions the voice refused to answer. And neither had any energy to spare for conversation.

When the sun rose on the next day, however, something was different. A strip of dark brown rock danced at the edge of the horizon.

Land.

The phantom reappeared at the bow, leading them forward, unwavering. But as they neared, Jinji's heart sunk to the base of the sea floor.

"It's a cliff," she said—to Rhen, to no one.

Looming in the distance was a solid wall of rock, reminding Jinji of the week spent sailing through the Straits, surrounded on all sides by jagged walls she would never be able to climb. Though not as high, this wall felt more foreboding as the phantom continued to point ahead while shifting his arm farther and farther up.

"Rhen?" she asked, turning to her friend.

His eyes gazed upward, probably pulled by the same thought as her. As the boat slid menacingly close to shore, he lowered the sail and dropped the anchor, bringing them to a dead halt. For the first time in days, the sun was completely blocked from view, surrounding them in cool shade.

Almost immediately, the phantom dissolved into a dark, gray cloud and floated up. As soon as it crested the ridge of land, it retook the shape of a man and looked down at them with an air of impatience.

"Does it want us to follow?" Jinji asked, unable to hide the waver in her tone.

Rhen sighed. "Trust me, it always wants us to follow. Though, I have no idea what could possibly be up there. If I'm correct, we're almost at the beginning of the Straits. No one lives in these hills. Nothing is there."

Eyeing the muddy stone again, Jinji swallowed. The cliff had to be at least five stories high. Though the rock was bumpy and full of grooves to hold on to, the wall was steep. Judging by the crashing waves at its base, a fall would be painful—if not deadly.

She swallowed. "Are we going to climb this?"

Rhen pulled his gaze from the ghost waiting overhead to the woman sitting by his side, brows knotted in worry. "It's up to you. We can follow the phantom, if you choose. Or we can turn around and continue onto Brython as my brother suggested."

She hated hearing his voice so forlorn. The Rhen she knew would jump at the opportunity for adventure, would already be swimming toward the rock, ready to make landfall. That Rhen was in there somewhere—she just needed to bring him back to life.

With one more glance above, Jinji squared her shoulders and met Rhen's stare. "Let's go."

Taking no time to second-guess herself, Jinji leapt off the side of the ship and into the icy waters below, cursing as soon as the cold flooded her veins.

This better get me closer to destroying the shadow.

A moment later, Rhen jumped in behind her.

"The gods!" he shouted as his head broke the surface. Jinji smiled. He was already sounding more like himself. With that thought pushing her forward, Jinji pumped her arms, dipping her head below the waves as her muscles burned with exertion.

"Jin, wait," Rhen shouted.

Bouncing up and down with the swaying surf, she treaded water until her prince caught up.

"We have to time this just right," he said between gulps of air. "See how the waves crash upon the rock, if we go now, we'll be crushed. We need to wait for a break in the set."

"Tell me when," she said, and then added, "I trust you."

A smile passed over his lips, quickly fading back to a frown. But it was there—she saw it. And Jinji smiled too.

Under the water, Rhen gripped her hand, a spot of fire in the ice sending heat into her cold skin. Swaying below the surface, moving with the current, their fingers danced hidden from the world.

Jinji was so distracted by the warmth of his touch that she almost missed it when he said, "Go!" But Rhen shoved her in the back, pushing her forward, and the next instant they were racing toward the rocks.

Fighting to find a hold, Jinji shifted her hands across the moist stone, shuffling her feet. But there was nothing. Her fingers slipped and slid over the slimy rocks, speckled with green algae that made it impossible to grip. And then she sailed forward as water shoved against her back, slamming her cheek against the wall and she lost all control. A moment later, Jinji was sucked backward, hands reaching for the stones but falling farther and farther away.

"Jin!" Rhen shouted.

He was on the wall, a few feet above her, out of reach.

Jinji swam with all her strength toward his call, knowing that at any moment a wave would hit her, sending her flying deadly fast into the rocks.

"Rhen!" she screamed, voice high in fear as she blindly held out her hand. The water started to recede, preparing for a fatal blow, when his hand found hers. The next moment, Jin was flying through the air.

"Grab on," Rhen told her and she did, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he climbed for the both of them.

Afraid to open them, Jinji crushed her lids closed, blocking out the rock, blocking out the water, the very world, focusing only on the clenching and coiling of Rhen's muscles the higher and higher they moved. Cheek pressed against his shoulder, Jinji listened to his breath grow more labored, felt the pulse below her arms run faster, but he did not protest, didn't tell her to make her own way.

"We're here," he finally said what seemed like a year later. "You have to climb over the top by yourself, but I promise, I won't let anything happened to you."

True to her word, Jinji trusted him.

The hardest part was opening her eyes. In fact, she couldn’t, not until Rhen's body began to tremble with effort, and she knew there was no time left.

Don't look down.

Don't look down.

Jinji slid her lids open, holding onto the blue sky above, to the tops of trees visible just over the edge, to the phantom waiting a few feet away. Unlatching her hands, Jinji gripped Rhen's shoulders fiercely, using her legs to shimmy as high as possible. When her body was as close as it could get, Jinji reached for the top of the rock, pulling with all of her strength toward the ledge.

"Use your feet," Rhen grunted and she listened, stepping on his back, then on the top of his head, to push herself over the edge.

The moment her knees touched the top, Jinji collapsed forward, shivering as the fear slowly slipped out of her bones. Rhen landed heavily by her side, gulping in deep breaths, chest heaving up and down. Turning slowly, Jinji met his stare, and instantly they both began to laugh.

At first, it was pure adrenaline. Followed by pure relief. And then it was something else—happiness. Jinji kept laughing just to keep watching the fire spark behind his eyes, joy flashing like shooting stars across a night sky, dazzling as the friend she had so dearly missed came back to life.

Rhen reached forward, sliding his hand to the base of her neck, pulling her forward until their foreheads touched. Running his thumb along the curve of her jaw, Rhen's laughter died away. But the flames in his emerald irises flared even stronger.

Kiss me.

Jinji trembled. Every nerve in her body tingled as the thought grew stronger in her mind. She had never wanted a man to touch her before, not like this, not as she yearned for now.

Kiss me.

Rhen shifted slightly closer, breath tickling her lips, making her heart pound like thunder in her chest.

And then he stopped.

Blinked.

Pulled away.

Stood.

Cold and alone on the ground, Jinji could hardly breathe. Hurt pulsed down her veins, making her lips wobble, her throat burn. Unsure of where to go, what to do, Jinji jumped to her feet and ran.

Straight into the phantom.

"Jin!" Rhen shouted.

But as soon as her body passed through the gray mist, she was lost, pulled back into the void, back into the memories waiting at the corner of her mind…

She stood on the ledge, staring out at the cloudless sky, waiting, searching the infinite blue. Every bird made her heart stop. Every windy roar made her ears perk.

A dark speck sprung into life at the far edge of her vision.

Growing.

Growing.

A smile widened her lips as she stepped back, settled into the ground. It was him. Every second that passed, every second that brought him closer, made her soul soar just a little higher. As if it were possible. Never in all of her lives had she ever felt so happy.

As the distance closed, her creation shifted into view. The black speck grew more distinct, more like the body she recognized—a body molded after her true form, a form she could only take on in the place between worlds, the ether.

Wide wings pumped gracefully through the air. Scales the color of molten lava streaked with black rock flared to life, flashing a fiery red in the sunlight, as though a ball of flames hurtled toward her.

But she was not afraid.

Why would she be?

The dragon was her child, her creation. It would never harm her.

No—the dragon was not what closed her throat in excitement, raced her pulse in anticipation. It was the man riding the dragon. The man she loved. The man whose blue eyes were filling her vision as she drank him in, willingly drowned in his gaze.

Sweeping in an arc overhead, the dragon landed and he slipped from its back, smiling widely, opening his arms to catch her as she ran toward him.

Without pausing to exchange words, he lifted her off the ground, hugging her close as his lips landed on hers. Fire raced down her body, scorching her every nerve until the world disappeared and the feel of his skin was all that remained. Gripping his head, she pulled him closer, wanting more, needing more. An eternity could pass in his arms and it would never be enough, would never satisfy the thirst, so she held on, refused to let him go, refused—

No! No! No!

The voice screamed, cutting the memory short, pitch like glass shards slicing Jinji's head apart, tearing her thoughts to shreds.

That memory is not for you! It is mine and mine alone.

The voice spat, venomous, furious. And then it was gone, snapping out of Jinji's mind so fast that it stung, leaving her dazed.

But Jinji's lips still burned from the kiss, from an experience she had never had but desperately wanted. Her veins still raced, alive, tingling with desire. Her skin was on fire. As a hand cupped her cheek, Jinji gasped, burning, and her eyes flew open.

It was Rhen.

Rhen who saved her.

Rhen who rejected her.

"Are you all right?" He stared into her eyes, passion and worry crashing together in the depths of his irises as he leaned over her. Somehow, Jinji was on the floor, lying on her back. But she didn't care why.

All she knew was that she was tired of living someone else's life. After Janu passed, Jinji had been forced to adopt his role as future leader of the tribe, her freedom limited to stolen moments in the clearing where she could truly be herself. After her people were destroyed, Jinji was forced to hide behind the face of a boy, the only way to survive in a foreign world. And even when her true face had been revealed, Jinji had woken to find herself forced into a new identity, that of court maiden. And a voice in her head whispered that her life had never been her own, sent her visions of a past she did not remember.

Jinji was done.

She was sick of pretending.

And for once, she wanted to be herself, to listen to her instincts, to do exactly what she wanted to do—consequences be damned.

So Jinji reached up, fingers shaking, and grabbed the back of Rhen's neck, digging her fingers into his curly red hairs before pulling him down.

Down.

Down.

Until his velvet lips brushed her skin, sending a new wave of heat across her nerves, and she kissed him.

For a moment, Jinji feared he might pull away, might protest, but after a slight pause, he groaned, sliding his hand to the back of her head, drawing her closer.

And then he was kissing her too.

12

RHEN

~ HILLS OF AIREDALE ~

Rhen hauled himself over the ledge, limbs shaking, breath coming short as the wound in his stomach flared. Jinji had already fallen against the ground, dizzy with relief, and Rhen quickly followed, landing hard beside her as he tried to gulp as much air as possible into his chest.

The gods, he was exhausted.

Yet somehow, a smile pulled at his cheeks. Somehow, he was having fun for the first time in days. And he knew exactly who was responsible for that.

Slipping his head to the side, Rhen met Jinji's eyes and instantly laughter bubbled under his skin, escaping his hold. Once it began, it was impossible to stop, infectious. The sound of her warm giggles only pushed Rhen further, making joy burst forth from his lips. Heat spread through his veins, waking him up after long days of despair.

But the longer he met her gaze, the longer he watched the gold glitter in her rich brown eyes, the more the laughter died away—replaced by another pleasure, a stronger one. Unable to stop his wayward hand, Rhen reached out, cupping the base of her neck, shivering as his fingers slid along her silky skin. Mesmerized, he ran his thumb along the base of her jaw, searching for the edge of her bottom lip as his head drew closer.

Their foreheads touched.

Then their noses.

Until the barest wall of air stood between their lips, so easy to cross, so easy…

Stop.

Rhen blinked. What was he doing?

Stop.

Rhen pulled away as his mind began to race. For weeks, she had hid herself under the guise of boy—was that the act of an interested woman? Was that the act of someone who wanted to be kissed?

No.

Turning his head, Rhen stood slowly, afraid to look at her, afraid to see if he'd destroyed everything. Jinji was his best friend, the only person he had left in the world. If he kissed her, everything would change. Everything. And Rhen couldn't afford to lose her, not now, not like this. He couldn’t ruin it. He refused to put her in such a horrible position.

A blur ran past his glassy eyes. It took him a second to realize who it must be.

Jin.

And she was running.

Running from him.

Running from what he had almost forced her to do.

Apologies burned his lips, but what could he say? How could he make it better? After so long as perfect friends, had a moment of weakness truly destroyed it all?

Helpless, Rhen watched as she raced away. And then panic clogged his throat, painful, as she sprinted directly through the phantom, dispersing the mist. In an instant, her entire body froze and she landed like a plank of wood on the ground.

"Jin!" Rhen cried, running to her, falling on his knees beside her still body. Those eyes he loved so much had rolled into the back of her head.

"Jin," Rhen repeated, softer this time as he stroked her cheek, listened to the strong heartbeat in her chest, the strong pulse circulating through her veins.

He remembered his interaction with the phantom, how his body filled with ice, growing impossibly still. In a few moments, she would wake. In a few moments, she would be fine, just like he had been.

Then her body twitched violently.

Rhen placed his hand on Jinji's cheek, trying to soothe, but with a gasp her eyes flew open, wide, filled with something Rhen had never seen.

"Are you all right?" he asked, stroking her skin, unable to stop himself.

Jinji didn’t respond. Her dark eyes grew determined. And the next thing Rhen knew, her hands were gripping his neck, pulling him down until their lips brushed ever so softly against each other.

Rhen froze.

Jinji was kissing him.

Did that mean she wanted to? Did she like him? Was she delirious? Was he forcing her? Would everything change? Would they be okay?

Stop. You idiot.

Rhen groaned, shoving the questions from his overactive mind, and gave in.

They were kissing.

Everything else in the world could wait until later.

Sliding his hand behind her head, digging his fingers into her short black hair, Rhen pulled Jinji closer, sinking into the kiss as his chest swelled with warmth. Her lips were full, luscious against his, as he pulled away only to come greedily back for more. Every time she sighed, a shiver raced down his spine. As her hands gripped his arms, fire flared against his skin.

Never in his life had Rhen felt so much in just one kiss—so much passion, so much honesty, so much love. He wondered for a moment if it were all a dream, if this could possibly be real, because the world had never felt so perfect, so right. But that was how everything always seemed to feel around her—brighter, better than before, magical.

Rhen shifted his lips, exploring the feel of her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, smiling with every sharp exhale that left her body. But as his chin felt the coarse scratch of fabric, he paused, lifting his head, blood boiling, and knew he had to stop now before he lost all control.

Breathing heavily, Rhen let his eyes wander, taking in the pink flush of her copper skin, the slight swell of her rosy lips, the crooked curve around the edge of her eyes, framed with dark, thick lashes.

Was there truly a time in his life when he mistook her for a boy? Illusions or not, it seemed impossible to make such an error. He had never seen anyone more beautiful than Jinji, eyes sparkling like the sun itself as she watched him watching her.

Then she bit her lip, as though suddenly aware of what had happened, but a smile tugged at the edges, threatening to break through her nervousness. Unable to stop himself, Rhen placed his finger on those lips, tracing them, enthralled.

Jinji's body stiffened beneath him.

Confused, Rhen met her stare, but she wasn't looking at him anymore. She was looking past him. Cautious, Rhen turned his head slowly, afraid of what he might find. A fox? A bear? A person?

But it was just the phantom.

Arms crossed. Staring down. If a cloud of gray mist could emote, Rhen would have guessed fury to be the most appropriate term—though he couldn't understand why. Still, greeted with such hostility he jumped back, releasing Jinji as though caught breaking some unknown rule.

And it pointed aggressively behind them.

Oh, right…

Rhen had completely forgotten why they had even climbed the cliff in the first place—to follow the phantom, to see what it needed to show them, to hunt for more clues about the ever-elusive shadow plaguing the land. And something more, something Rhen didn’t really want to admit to himself—the hope that maybe, just maybe, he had found the answer to saving his family.

That hope was the only thing keeping him going. That hope, and now this—the woman smiling below him, the woman he wanted desperately to kiss again.

But before he could react, she slid out from underneath him, sparing a quick glance in his direction. Brushing the grass off her pants, unknowingly calling Rhen's attention to the barely concealed curves of her body, Jinji stood. Holding back a frustrated scream, Rhen hurried to do the same.

The phantom started floating forward, not waiting to see if they were ready, just assuming they would follow. Rhen and Jinji looked at each other for a moment, stuck as an awkward silence filled the air. An urgent need to speak pinched his gut, but what was there to say—thank you? That was amazing? Let's do it again? Right now…maybe… Instead, he sighed heavily.

Jinji leaned forward, stretching up on the tips of her toes to kiss his lips softly, gone before he had time to respond. Then she nudged her head, and said, "Come on."

Unable to find his voice, Rhen trudged after her. How had someone with the reputation of irrefutable rake turned into such a bumbling boy? He'd seduced a thousand women across the kingdom, so how had this one brought him to his knees?

And then Rhen realized something. With everyone he had ever kissed before, he had been playing a part—the philandering prince, the irresponsible third son of the king, the irresistible scoundrel.

But Jinji?

She knew who he really was—knew him better than anyone else in the kingdom. When she kissed him, she wasn't kissing a prince, she wasn't kissing a name or a reputation. She was kissing him. The real Rhen. And that made all the difference.

"Rhen?"

He flinched, pulled from his thoughts only to realize that Jinji and the phantom had come to a stop a few feet behind him next to what appeared to be some sort of ivy covered boulder. But as he stepped closer, Rhen could make out patchwork lines, deep grooves in the stones, the sort of work that could only be manmade.

"What do you think it is?" Jinji asked.

"Ruins?" Rhen shrugged, running his fingers along the vines. Curious, he began to circle the stones, searching for an entrance, some clue to what it might be, but he found none. The shape was cylindrical, only ten feet high, almost like the top of a tower. But there were no windows, no doors. How could a tower be buried under so much soil?

"I thought you said this area of the kingdom is barren."

"It is," he told her, mystified, "whatever this is, it must be hundreds of years old."

The phantom blew between them, no longer the shape of a man, back to a cloudy fog, and rose up to the top of the ruins before disappearing entirely.

"Up?" Jinji asked.

With a resigned sigh, Rhen nodded. "Up."

Then he knelt down to offer her his hands as a foothold. Lifting her was easy and within moments, Jinji had pulled herself to the top of the mound.

"See anything?" Rhen called as she disappeared from sight, kneeling down to examine the top.

"I think there may be a door," she said, popping back into view as she leaned over the edge. "Can I help you?"

Rhen raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep the smirk from his face—but the idea of Jinji being able to pull him up to the top was ridiculous. One yank and she would come tumbling over the edge, though catching her would definitely be fun…

Shaking his head, Rhen just said, "I'll be fine."

Using the vines as a foothold, Rhen began to climb. Immediately, his arms ignited with a familiar burn, still totally spent from scaling the cliff face with Jinji holding onto his back. But the distance was much shorter this time and he made it easily to the top.

Jinji was waiting alone, no phantom in sight, and leaning over a hole in the floor. "I think I see steps."

Rhen sank beside her, pulse quickening as their arms touched, but he tried to focus on the task at hand. The hole was not so much a hole, but what looked like a metal gate buried under sediment. If it were a door, then there would be a handle. Pushing leaves and mud to the side, Rhen ran his palms over rough stone, feeling for a…

There.

A hook. Grasping the circular iron hoop, Rhen stood and pulled. The gate lifted, creaking with age, revealing a staircase that had been untouched for who knew how long. And a few feet below, the phantom waited, pointing into the dark.

"Down?" Rhen asked.

This time Jinji was the one who sighed and shook her head, before answering with a resigned, "Down."

After about ten steps they ran into a dilemma—the sun was gone, blanketing them in impenetrable darkness. Rhen searched the wall for a torch, but anything that might have been there had been destroyed with age.

"What now?" he asked, peering into the ebony abyss where the mist had disappeared. Without a torch or any fire at all, going farther would be impossible.

"Hmm," Jinji murmured, biting her lip, "I may have an idea."

"Wha…" But Rhen trailed off, eyes widening as Jinji held out her hand and closed her lids. Rhen had seen her wear that look only once before, the night he visited her rooms, the night she showed him her illusions.

Holding his breath, Rhen watched as the air began to bend around her arm, like fractured light off a diamond, not quite natural. Slowly, from the dark, the hint of wood appeared, translucent at first, but growing more and more opaque, until the shaft of a torch rested sturdily between her fingers—more solid than any illusion Rhen could imagine.

A moment later, fire burst from the end, bright and blinding, shocking Rhen as he felt the heat dig into his palm, provoking his senses. Instinctually, Rhen pulled on the flame and it twitched in his direction, moving ever so slightly, before he released his hold. Drawn to the light, Rhen reached forward, putting the tips of his fingers in the flame, enjoying the burn.

He let his hand fall back to his side. Did Jinji know how real her illusions had become? The fire atop her torch reacted to his touch no differently than a real flame would.

Strange, Rhen thought, brows scrunched as he rubbed his fingers together. The lingering warmth sunk under his skin, molding to his blood.

"Here you go," Jinji said a few moments later, handing Rhen a second torch. He was almost afraid to grip too tightly, lest the illusion unravel. But the wood scratched his skin, firm in his grasp, too real to be fake.

With the halls around them glimmering in firelight, Rhen and Jinji continued down the circular steps, moving round and round until they reached the bottom. The phantom led them down abandoned hallways, through a wooden door that had decayed over time, past broken glass windows with no view aside from endless mud and roots. An entire castle sat abandoned underground, oddly preserved, yet completely vacant.

Who lived here?

Where did they go?

What happened?

Rhen couldn’t stop the questions from boggling his mind. Buildings did not just bury themselves, not so pristinely without a single stone out of place.

The phantom came to a halt just inside a cavernous room. The space reminded Rhen of a throne room, though no furniture rested inside. But the ceilings vaulted into high arches, reminding him of home.

Next to him, Jinji let her torch disappear and held both hands before her face, closing her eyes. Soon candlesticks decorated the entire floor, casting the room in warm, yellow light.

Rhen turned in his spot, looking for the clue the phantom had been trying to show them. Columns ran down the length of the room, and at the far wall, Rhen saw the hint of an image, too faint to make out. Careful where he stepped, he walked forward, boots echoing across the silence.

Holding his torch close to the wall, Rhen searched for meaning in the old paint swirls, dried out with time, fading into almost nothingness. Reds. Oranges. Yellows. Whispers of color graced the surface of the wall, once brilliant, but now almost imperceptible against the stone. Rhen gently slid his finger along the wall, pulling away to see his skin covered in dust and dirt. The image underneath popped brighter where he rubbed the residue away, looking almost like a flame…

Rhen's gut clenched.

Filled with the need to understand, to subdue the urgency piercing his veins, Rhen pressed his forearm along the wall, rubbing the painting clean, using every inch of fabric along his torso to wipe the residue away.

"Rhen," Jinji called, worry lacing her voice.

But his ears did not quite work. Rhen grew frenzied, jumping against the wall to reach his arm as high as possible. This was no cave painting he had uncovered—this time, the phantom made sure his message was loud and clear, obvious enough for Rhen to comprehend.

Heart pounding, Rhen continued. Fire splashed the walls around him, almost real with the flicker of the candlelight. But what else was there? What else was he supposed to see?

"Rhen!" Jinji yelled.

The sharp tone of her voice caught Rhen off guard, making him pause, giving him a moment to breathe.

"Step back," she commanded. "I think I know what it is, who the phantom is."

Was there a note of sadness in her words?

Rhen shook his head, following her orders, and stepped a few feet back. With the distance, the flames scorching the lower edge of the wall became even clearer. Deep red and orange swirls, highlighted with bright yellows, made fiercer through black shadows. But that was it, that was all. The upper three quarters of the painting remained hidden under layers of soot, invisible to Rhen's eye.

Until suddenly it wasn't.

Jinji walked past him, weaving her hands elegantly through the air, folding her fingers in a dance, moving her palms in sweeping arcs.

Rhen gasped.

A beast clawed at the wall. Flames rolled off its back. Wings spanned the width of the room, translucent ebony. And sitting atop scales that seemed made of molten rock, was a man.

A true Lord of Fire.

Rhen stumbled back, feet uneven as he continued to stare at the painting, unable to look away. The phantom swirled up and attached itself to the image of the man, dark gray mist undulating in the shape of the rider, like ash from the fire.

"A dragon? This is what he wants to show us?" Rhen finally whispered, not quite believing his own words. "But they're beasts of myth, of legend."

"I don't believe they always were," Jinji said, turning back to him with a pained expression. Swallowing loudly, she bit her lip and then took a deep breath, wincing. "There's something happening to me that I haven't told you. Something to do with the shadow."

Rhen pulled his gaze from the painting, brows immediately knotting in worry. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

Jinji shook her head. "No, nothing like that. I'm not sure how to say it, except, well, ever since I touched the shadow that day in Rayfort, I've been hearing a voice in my head. And…" She held up her hand for silence. "Before you tell me I'm crazy, please let me finish."

Rhen closed his mouth, nodding. But she had misconstrued his intentions—Rhen was going to admit that somehow, the words made sense to him. Deep in his soul, an understanding burst into awareness, as though the pieces were beginning to fall into place.

"It's too much to go into now, I'm not sure if I even truly understand, but the voice is really a soul that shares my body, a guardian of this world, and our connection is the reason I can manipulate the elemental spirits. Her presence gave me the power to create my illusions. And though she has lived countless human lives, this is the first time she has returned to our world in a thousand years, maybe more."

Jinji sighed, wringing her thumbs as though nervous. "The voice has been sharing memories with me, I believe just of her last life in our world. And dragons were alive, they were real. The phantom who follows you, who is with us right now, I've seen him ride them in my, I mean, her memories."

Rhen walked back to the wall, running his fingers over the flames, yearning to pull the fire under his skin, wishing it were real. But the stone was cold, dead, lifeless.

"Why bother to show us this? Why go through all the effort of bringing us here, just to show us an old painting?" Rhen asked, spinning around as his hand balled into a fist, fighting the urge to slam it against the wall. "Even if dragons were once real, they aren't any more. This doesn't help us."

"I don't know," Jinji said softly. "Perhaps this lost soul doesn't understand how much time has passed since his death, doesn’t realize that they're gone."

As though sensing Rhen's mounting anger, she let the illusion fall. The painting faded back to dust, to light brown soot hardly distinguishable from the stone. But the image still burned Rhen's eyes—he couldn’t get rid of it.

When the phantom had reappeared on their ship, Rhen stupidly let himself believe he'd found the answer—that somehow, someway, this ghost would show him the key to saving his family. And instinct to trust, to believe, had flared to life, burning the doubts away. It was the only reason Rhen veered off the path to Brython, the only reason he broke his promise to Whyllem to stay out of trouble. When they were led to a cliff, Rhen almost turned around. One slip, and he might fall to his death, might destroy the last hope of his bloodline. But still, Rhen pushed forward, too close to turn back.

And after all of that, this was it? This was all he had to show? Memories of an animal that had been dead for centuries, gone from this world, utterly useless?

Rhen's energy gave out as an invisible knife pierced his heart, stinging, and he fell to his knees. Broken. Baby Whyllean pushed into his thoughts—his pudgy hands as they wrapped around Rhen's finger, the dimples that carved into his cheeks when he laughed, the curiosity in his eyes as though the entire world were a marvel to behold. Those memories faded, replaced by the image of his tiny head on a spike, gaze blank, mouth frozen.

Rhen closed his eyes, fighting to suppress the nightmare as he ran his hands through his hair.

No…

He shook his head.

I should be there. Why did I run? Why did I listen to Whyllem?

"Rhen," Jinji sighed in his ear as her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she pulled him in for a tight embrace. Rhen gripped her as though his life depended on it, pulling her close, burying his head in her neck. Breaths coming quick and shallow, he tried to hold onto her warmth, her pulse, to fight the sobs strangling his throat.

But just when Rhen feared he would lose it, drowning in the despair choking his heart, a sound filtered into his ears, replacing the hurt with sudden alarm.

Boots.

Rhen and Jinji pulled back at the same time, eyes wide, looking at one another for confirmation. But the noise was impossible to mishear. Boots down an empty hall, echoing across the silence. Multiple sets. Soft but growing louder.

Rhen shook his head, confused. Who could it be? This area of the kingdom was abandoned—no towns, no villages, nothing except wilderness.

Jinji lifted her finger in front of her lips, latching her free hand around his. Together, they stepped to the side, hiding in the shade of a tall column. Rhen spared one more glance at the painting, noticing for the first time that the phantom had disappeared, abandoned them.

Good riddance, he thought.

And then darkness descended. The candles across the floor winked out of existence. The torch at his feet disappeared. In his hand, Jinji's fingers began to tremble. Beside him, her voice grew short. Rhen settled an arm across her shoulders, pulling her against his chest as he ran a hand down her hair.

Remembering how much his friend despised the dark, how it reminded her of the shadow, of her nightmare, Rhen kissed her forehead ever so slightly, enjoying how natural the motion was. Then he whispered, "I won't leave you."

For a moment, her body relaxed against him, but then she sucked in a constricted breath. Placing her hand to his cheek, she pushed, shifting his gaze.

In the distance, a warm yellow speck appeared, confirming they were no longer alone.

13

JINJI

~ HILLS OF AIREDALE ~

When Jinji felt Rhen's lips press against her forehead, the barest hint of a kiss, she couldn't help but wonder for a moment if all of this were real—if it could possibly be happening to her.

Those dark weeks in the dungeon fluttered to the forefront of her thoughts—endless days where the promise of Rhen was all that had kept her together. Countless times, Jinji had woven illusions of him holding her just like this—arms warm against her skin, touch a comfort in the evasive dark, hands soothing as they ran up and down her back. And sometimes, when the burns around her wrist ached too much to bear and the piercing screams continued echoing through the silence, Jinji would tell Rhen's illusion to kiss her, comforting and loving, and his lips would land gently against her forehead.

But now, finding herself drowning in darkness once more, Rhen was there doing everything she wished in her dreams—only this time, he was doing them on his own with no prodding and no pushing from her.

"I won't leave you," he whispered, breath tickling her neck as the warm vibrato of his voice sent one last shiver down her spine. If there was ever a doubt, it was gone as the sound washed over her. This Rhen was real, not an illusion.

Jinji relaxed against him, melting under his touch.

Then she sucked in a breath, the moment of peace utterly shattered as the glow of fire sprang to life in the distance. A hundred feet underground in a castle that had not seen life for centuries, and yet, someone had found them—followed them.

Reaching up, Jinji placed her palm against Rhen's cheek, shifting his gaze to the intruders. The fingers holding her arm tightened as Rhen released a harsh breath, a silent curse. His free hand shifted, brushing the side of her hip as he reached for the knife in his belt. In that moment, Jinji was sure he wished for a sword. But his favorite weapon was waiting back on the deck of their boat where Rhen had left it before jumping overboard and following her into the water.

Still, a knife was better than nothing, which was what Jinji had. Empty hands. But with her illusions, she was never helpless—not really.

Jinji shrugged free of Rhen's hold, allowing him to crouch into a fighting stance as she lifted her fingers before her face, ready to produce whatever mirage was needed to aid their escape.

Neither of them moved as the men stepped closer. Jinji counted six as they neared, each one held a sword in one hand and a torch in the other, peering nervously around the space. The man in front crouched every so often, spotting their footsteps on the ground, continuing to follow the trail they had made in the dust.

"What do we do?" she whispered as quietly as possible. The men did not stop, did not look around. They were still too far away to hear.

"When they get close," Rhen murmured with lips pressed against her ear, making it difficult to concentrate on his words, "I'm going to attack. When I shout your name, fill the room with candlelight once more."

Jinji nodded, squeezing his fingers once before he slipped away. After three dull thuds of boots on stone, Jinji could no longer hear him. The sound of his steps faded away, too soft to penetrate the silence as he moved like a ghost in the darkness—like a phantom.

On instinct, Jinji's gaze shifted over her shoulder. Though there was nothing to see, the image of the painting was glued to her memory—more specifically, the image of the man riding the beast. As soon as they arrived in this room, as soon as Rhen began to rub away the soot covering the painting, Jinji had realized who the phantom was.

The rider from the memory.

The man the voice had loved.

Not her brother.

Not Janu.

And though her heart had sunk a little at the realization, it made sense. The phantom had not come for her, not initially. It had come for Rhen. Though the phantom's blue eyes were so different from the warm green ones that had captured her heart, there was something familiar about him, so like Rhen. The fire, yes, but also something more—something Jinji desperately needed the voice to help her understand.

In a way, Jinji felt sorry for the phantom, a soul who must not have realized how long he'd been in the grave. Every gesture at the painting had been charged with meaning, full of such intent. Jinji wished she could speak to it, tell the man that his beast was long dead, that dragons were now just a thing of legend. Maybe it would give him peace, let him descend back to the realm of the shadow and leave this world.

But he’d vanished before she got the chance.

Vanished at the exact moment when Jinji and Rhen realized they were no longer alone.

Quietly, Jinji shifted back around, pulling her thoughts from the past and back to the present—back to the men only a few yards away, mumbling to each other as they examined the circle of footsteps on the ground, trying to determine where best to hunt for their prey in the dark. But in their deliberations, the men failed to realize that their torches were bright targets, making them easy to watch and even easier to kill.

Jinji was hardly surprised when the first man fell.

Rhen's dagger landed perfectly in the center of his forehead, killing him before he even had the chance to scream. For a moment, the only sound to fill the space was the clank of metal on stone as his body fell, the tap of wood as the torch bounced on the ground, settling to a stop right in front of his face, features frozen in shock.

Then time rushed forward. His five companions stepped back, boots loud as thunder, breath a strong gust of wind as panic took hold and they turned in circles trying to locate the source of the throw. Swords raised, the men took turns cutting through air as they stepped out in quick motions and slashed at nothing.

Rhen remained invisible.

A moment later, the flames atop their torches shifted, stopped flickering, paused, and then flew away, illuminating Rhen's features for the briefest instant before fading into nothingness.

Ebony engulfed them all.

Perfectly silent.

Perfectly still.

And then a grunt broke through. Another. A scream of pain. A groan. The ring of metal on metal. The thump of a blade as it landed in skin.

Sweat glistened to life on Jinji's palms as her pulse ran rapidly, listening for Rhen's voice through the indistinct sounds. Was that his sigh? His groan? His hiss of pain? Heart racing, Jinji wanted to fling light across the room, to clear the darkness, to see what was happening. The not knowing was killing her. But Rhen told her to wait for his call.

Did she trust him enough to keep her promise?

The answer to the question would always be yes. So as much as it pained her to do nothing, to wait, she did.

"Jinji! Now!" Rhen's voice cut through the abyss, zapping her system as Jinji jumped into motion. Lifting her arms, she wove the same illusion as before, not bothering to close her eyes. A thousand candles blazed into existence, as bright as the sun, illuminating every corner of the room.

Three bodies lay deadly still on the floor.

Jinji located Rhen just in time to see the knife leave his hand, just in time to watch it sail across the room, just in time to see it land true.

Four bodies.

Before Jinji could blink, the fire disappeared, arching across the room and sinking under Rhen's skin as though her illusions were made of real flame. Shocked, Jinji stepped back as night descended once more.

How had he done that? No one had ever been able to manipulate her illusions before—no one except her.

But a loud curse filled her ears, pulling her thoughts back to the fight. Rhen's voice. Jinji would recognize that anger-laced baritone anywhere.

"Rhen!" Jinji shouted, unable to stop herself.

A moment later, she realized her mistake, ducking as the hiss of metal soaring through air whispered into her ear, narrowly missing her skull. The knife clanged into the wall behind her, slipping uselessly to the floor, but heavy feet pounded in her direction.

Idiot.

Jinji cursed. After all of Rhen's work, she had revealed her location. Shuffling backward, Jinji felt for the knife, relieved as her fingers clutched the hilt of the blade.

The boots sounded closer.

Closer.

Jinji held the knife before her face, ready to attack. Yet her fingers trembled, revealing her fear, and her heart rose to clog her throat, making her breath come short and shallow.

"Again!" Rhen yelled.

Immediately, Jinji listened, gasping as the fire flared to life around her and the charging soldier filled her vision. He grinned as the candles revealed her position, eyes gluing her to the wall. Raising his sword, the man gritted his teeth, barely pausing as he realized she was a woman. Jinji jumped to her feet, gripping the knife, pulling back to make one last throw, one last attempt to save herself.

But before the blade left her hand, the man twitched, eyes turning vacant as a metal sword punched through his chest. One jerk and he was dead, falling face first to the floor.

Behind him, Rhen dropped the weapon, chest heaving. Blood trickled down his arm, revealing a shallow cut on his bicep, but there was no other wound to hinder his movement as he raced forward, grabbing her tightly.

Before Jinji had time to react, Rhen was kissing her roughly, pulling her close so that his arms wrapped around her torso, almost lifting her from the ground. Fire flared to life in her stomach as lava coursed through her veins.

Rhen's touched burned.

His lips demanded more, hungry.

Jinji arched her back, leaning up, answering with a need all her own.

But Rhen pulled away, and as quickly as it had started it was over. Easing apart, he gently lowered Jinji back to the ground, releasing his hold, staring at the floor.

Energy sparked the space between their bodies, raw, prickling Jinji's skin. Part of her wanted more. Part of her was afraid of what that meant.

"Jin…" he whispered, trailing off. But she knew Rhen well enough to hear the apology in his tone.

Jinji lifted a finger to his lips, silencing him, forcing him to look up and meet her eyes. She wanted desperately to tell him how she felt, how there was nothing he should feel sorry about, how she wanted his kisses—all the time, whenever he offered them. But the words got caught in her throat as nerves stole her breath, silencing her.

This was new territory.

New words.

New feelings.

All emotions she did not know how to express, how to define. Against her will, one word slipped through her lips.

"Taikeno," Jinji whispered. My love. My future. But pain clenched her heart, stealing away the explanation. Long ago, in what seemed like a different lifetime, that word had been reserved for Maniuk—the man who was to be her joined, was to father her children, was to stand by her side and lead their people into the future.

But now, a newworlder had stolen her heart, given meaning to an ancient word she had never fully understood until this moment, staring at the warmth in his emerald eyes, candlelight sparkling like stars in his irises. Rhen had saved her. Not just in this fight, but in everything he had done since the moment they first met. Every look. Every conversation. Every touch. All of it had brought her back to life.

And for the first time, Jinji felt like maybe she had done the same thing for him.

Maybe.

Rhen's brows scrunched in curiosity as the silence stretched, as Jinji let the word fill the space between them without giving him more. It was the language of her people, the Arpapajo tribe, meaningless to a Son of Whyl. But she wasn't ready for him to know just how much he meant to her, not yet, not here surrounded by the dead, survivor's euphoria melting away as the reality of the situation sunk in.

Six men had followed them down here.

How many waited above?

Jinji stepped back, breathing in deep cool air, burying the heat for another time. Looking up, as though she might be able to see through the layer of dirt and grass, up to the surface above, Jinji asked, "Who are they?”

"They wear the burgundy and gold overcoats of Airedale," Rhen said, sighing heavily.

"What?"

"Airedale has proclaimed allegiance to the enemy." Rhen motioned to the bodies on the floor. "The only reason these men would travel so far south of their home, so close to the Straits, without notifying Rayfort is to help fight against the crown, to help the Ourthuri break through."

Jinji winced, knowing Rhen thought of his family, of the ever-fading chance of their survival. "What do we do now?"

Without hesitation, Rhen laced their fingers together, bringing her eyes back to him. "Whatever it takes."

And then they were moving, racing from the room and searching for the exit. Jinji wove the illusion of candles down every hallway, bringing the buried castle back to life for a brief time. The different sets of footprints in the dust proved an easy path to follow, and soon enough, they had reach the staircase leading back to the surface.

Behind them, Jinji flooded the rooms in darkness as she unraveled her illusion. Hands still clutching one another, Jinji followed Rhen up the steps, carefully and slowly as they traveled in the dark. No torches this time. No light. Not when at any moment, more unwanted visitors might storm down. If that happened, the two of them would need every advantage possible.

But as they reached the top, sun casting a warm glow, breaking up the shadows, no one else was in sight.

Rhen crouched at the top of the exit, sinking onto his stomach and slithering to the edge of the tower, peering for soldiers hiding in the trees. But after a few minutes, checking every angle, he cautiously stood. No arrows raced toward him, no knives. In fact, the only sound Jinji heard was leaves rustling in a light breeze, birds chirping. The woods were peaceful.

Jinji rose from her hiding place on the steps, joining Rhen at the top of the tower, smiling as the sun warmed her skin. It was good to be outside, good to breathe fresh air, to say goodbye to stale, dank dark. Humans were not meant to be underground, not while alive anyway.

"Were those the only ones?" Jinji asked, voice still low, still wary.

Rhen just shook his head. "There must be more, maybe not here, but somewhere. Let's head back to the boat."

Offering his hands, Rhen lowered Jinji over the side of the tower, gently bringing her closer and closer to the ground until he released and she dropped the last foot, landing lightly on the grass. He held her so easily, lifted her as though she weighed nothing, carried her with almost no effort at all, each time making her feel precious.

Looking up, Jinji wished she could help Rhen some way, but he clearly didn't need it as he ambled down the vines, landing swiftly by her side.

A moment later though, as Rhen searched the trees for a sign of where to go next, Jinji realized it was her turn to take the lead. Out of a castle, surrounded by dirt and forest, Jinji was the expert. And it took her no time at all to find their tracks. Deep impressions sank into the mud, large feet that had to be Rhen's. Farther back, sticks were broken, snapped by boots. Leaves were crushed, discolored to an ugly brown. All over, Jinji noticed little signs to follow as she led them back the way they had come, back to the boat, back to freedom.

Breaking through the tree line, the ground dropped away, revealing endless blue water and an ominous cloudy sky, threatening to bubble over with rain. Above, the sun beckoned. But shadows danced across the sea, and miles away, a storm waited on the horizon.

Rhen showed no fear as he walked right to the edge, glancing down the cliff. Turning back around, he grinned. "The boat is still there."

But a moment later, a shadow passed over his features, a haunting gaze, and his mouth opened as if to shout. Then an arrow sailed into her line of vision, aimed directly at his heart.

"Rhen!" Jinji shouted, throwing her hands out and weaving the first thing she could think of—wind. Surging around them, a gust blew straight at the arrow, spinning it off course so it soared harmlessly over the edge of the cliff, disappearing with the fall.

Moving faster than she ever had before, Jinji wrapped an illusion around the cliffs, almost the same image as in real life except without the two of them, just the rock and the clouds and the waters below.

Exactly as she thought, the soldier in the woods gasped. It was all she needed to know her illusion had worked, not that Jinji really doubted her strength anymore. But still, a smile snuck across her face, satisfied. Hidden behind the weave, Rhen and Jinji had simply blinked out of existence.

Signaling for silence, Jinji lifted a finger to her lips. Rhen nodded, not quite sure what happened, but aware that Jinji had acted, had used her powers. To him, nothing had changed. The illusion was woven in front of them, almost like a painting they now hid behind.

Though her pulse raced, Jinji forced her movement to slow as she stepped carefully toward Rhen, eyes locked on the ground so she did not make a single noise that might give their position away. Once their fingers locked together, Jinji allowed herself a glance backward.

The soldier stared ahead, baffled, and rubbed his eyes. He wore the same uniform as the men who had hunted them underground—deep burgundy with three yellowish stripes slashing diagonally across his chest. A moment later, another man stepped out from the trees. His eyes were also glued to the horizon.

"Did you see two men here before? I swear…" The soldier trailed off, shaking his head.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes," the second man said, voice filled with awe. "They vanished."

Together, the men stepped forward, walking to the edge of the cliff. Wincing, Jinji called the illusion tightly around Rhen and her, curling it around their bodies. By the time the men reached the lip, staring down, reality was all they saw.

"Is that a boat?" one asked. Beside her, Rhen stiffened. Jinji swallowed deeply, biting her lip. How had she forgotten to hide the boat? A simple illusion of water was all it would have taken.

"Yeah, you want to climb down and explore?" the second asked, but humor colored his words.

"Oh sure, why not?" the first mocked, nudging his companion closer to the edge as fear flooded his eyes.

Beside her, Rhen shifted.

Jinji turned, reading the hunger in his eyes, the need to act, the impatience. He wanted to push them over, to go on the offensive while the two of them remained invisible behind her illusion.

But visions flooded her thoughts—visions of Rhen being shoved over the edge, of Rhen plummeting to his death, of Rhen slamming against the water, broken. Swiftly, Jinji clutched his arm, tugging, holding him back. They should wait, safe behind her magic, until the cliffs cleared. There was no urgency, time was all the two of them had—time enough to wait.

Rhen looked down, eyes bulging as he flicked his head to the side.

But Jinji shook hers.

"No," she mouthed, silent.

After a moment of hesitation, the tension left his body and Rhen gave in, heeding her orders to let the two men live, to have patience. As he shifted his weight back, away from the soldiers, a twig snapped beneath his boot.

Louder than lightning.

Louder than a scream.

Utterly deafening.

Jinji's head jerked up, and she met Rhen's eyes for a fleeting glance before spinning on her heels. Not two feet in front of her, one of the men raised his bow, cocking an arrow, eyes focused on nothing and everything at the same time.

Before Jinji had time to shift a finger, the arrow landed squarely in her shoulder, ripping a scream from her chest as she lost her balance, teetering and then falling over the edge.

Rhen grabbed for her hand, fingers searching desperately for her skin, but in the end he clutched only the air, face frozen in horror as she slipped away.

Jinji locked her eyes on his, watching him grow smaller and smaller, confused for a moment. Was he moving fast? Was she? All Jinji could feel was the pain throbbing down her arm, piercing her heart, blinding her vision in iron white heat.

Floating in oblivion, the world drifted away as agony stole all thought.

Time stretched.

Stopped.

Was she still screaming?

Still falling?

Jinji thought of the wind, wrapped herself in yellow air strands, weaving and weaving until she could no longer tell what was up and what was down, until she was so surrounded by yellow spirits that for a moment, she thought the sun had swallowed her whole.

But cold ice slammed into her body.

Dragging her away.

Dragging her under.

14

RHEN

~ HILLS OF AIREDALE ~

Gone. Jinji was gone.

Rhen stared, helpless as her hand slipped between his fingers, as her body dropped out of reach, sinking lower and lower. A scream tore from her lips, growing quieter as she fell, but the longer it went on the more terrifying it sounded. Unable to do anything but watch, Rhen waited for the inevitable crush of water.

For a moment, her body stopped.

Paused in midair.

Flew.

And then the drop was over as cold water surrounded her body and Jinji sunk below the surface, surrounded in white bubbles that were quickly disappearing against the blue.

Rhen didn't wait to see if the illusion still hid him. Did not bother to fight the men, to kill them. His entire being was focused on one thing—finding Jinji.

Without hesitation, he jumped.

The land disappeared beneath him, replaced by endless air.

Stomach flying into his throat, Rhen bit back a shout and straightened his legs, pointing his toes as much as possible, trying to remember the lessons his brothers taught him as a boy jumping off the cliffs near Rayfort. Much smaller, yes, but the technique was mostly the same.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Rhen waited for impact, counting in his head, doing his best to stay calm. For a brief moment, a sense of peace filled his body, a sense of weightlessness.

And then, crash.

Water surrounded Rhen, stealing the breath from his body as ice crushed his skin. The current pulled him under, but Rhen swam up, pumping his arms until he broke the surface, breathing deeply. Without pause, he dove under again, eyes wide despite the stinging salt.

Where was she?

Kicking, Rhen dove deeper, letting the sun slip away as his ears popped with the pressure. Throwing his arms in all directions, he sought her skin, her hair, her clothes, anything that would help.

There.

A white blur invaded his vision—the stark brightness of her shirt. Rhen pushed against the current, wrapping an arm around her waist before seeking the air. Throat burning, Rhen broke through the water, gulping. But his heart sank when he heard no similar sound from the woman in his arms.

Sparing a moment to look down, Rhen winced. Her skin was blue. Blood pooled red around them. And her chest was utterly still.

Suddenly, an arrow pierced the water right beside Rhen's arm, splashing as it made contact, pulling his attention up. The soldiers at the top of the cliff both had arrows pointed down, ready to release.

Rhen raced for the boat as another arrow soared near them, slicing the water. Hidden behind the wood, safe for a moment, Rhen put his lips against Jinji's cold ones, holding her nose closed, and blew.

Nothing.

Fighting the rising panic, Rhen blew again, as hard as he could until he saw her chest rise, filling up with the air he forced inside.

Nothing.

Closing his eyes tight, Rhen repeated the process one more time, thinking, come on, come on, come on. He didn’t stop until he felt lightheaded, until there was nothing left for him to send into her still chest, no more air to give.

In his arms, Jinji convulsed, coughing as water and mucous tore free of her mouth. Rhen sighed, kissing her forehead when her body stopped jerking. Never had he seen anything more amazing than her here, alive, breathing again.

"Rhen?" Jinji murmured, voice scratchy and low.

"Shh," Rhen whispered, "I'm going to try to lift you back into the boat, but you need to help. You need to be strong, like I know you are."

Jinji nodded, curling closer to his chest, whimpering in pain as the waves twisted the arrow deeper into her shoulder. Rhen really didn’t want to do what came next, but there was no avoiding it.

Grabbing her under the armpits with one arm, Rhen reached for the boat rail, heaving with all of his strength as he lifted both of them from the water.

"Grab on," he commanded, already feeling his energy ebb. Jinji listened, doing her best to hold onto the wooden rail. Rhen dropped back into the water, releasing her, letting her hang for a moment. And then he reached up once more, pushing against her bottom with all of his strength. Jinji tumbled over the side of the boat and onto the deck, yelping as the arrow crunched against the wood, snapping and burying even farther into her muscles.

Not a moment later, Rhen heard the thump of another arrow landing against the side of his boat. Pulling with one great heave, Rhen threw himself over the rail and rushed to carry Jinji below deck, safe from the arrows flying overhead.

Grabbing his shield, pausing only momentarily at the royal seal painted on the front, the colors of Rayfort and of Whyl, Rhen raced back into the sunlight. Almost immediately, an arrow landed against the shield, sending painful vibrations down his arm and across his torso. But Rhen pressed on, yanking the anchor from the sea floor, securing the ropes of the sail, smiling as it snapped taut with the wind.

Within minutes, they were out of range. Rhen slipped the shield from his back, staring at the two men of Airedale, now no more than black specks in the distance. With a sigh, he turned around and took the steps two at a time, retrieving Jinji gently and bringing her back above deck. Bending over her torso, Rhen examined her wound in the daylight.

"This is going to hurt," he whispered, "but try not to move."

Jinji nodded, biting her lip. Rhen rolled a cloth and slid it between her teeth, giving her something to clench when necessary. And it would be necessary. Breathing deep, Rhen lifted a clean knife to her skin, pausing.

"Forgive me," he whispered.

And then he dug the blade into her wound, opening it wide enough for his fingers to slip through. Immediately, Jinji yelled. The cloth muffled the sound, but still, it sent a freeze down Rhen's bones. He could not stop now, not until the metal was out of her skin, not until she was safe.

Moving as quickly as he could, Rhen dug his finger below her skin, using the shaft of the arrow as a guide until he found the head. Securing the metal piece between his fingers, Rhen pulled. With a little effort, the entire arrow slipped free.

Jinji hissed as Rhen poured salt water over the wound, washing the blood away, trying to clean the area. And then he wrapped bands of cloth tightly around her shoulder, layers upon layers, until the bleeding was contained, sealing the wound in the only way possible without a needle and thread close by.

Just as he sat up straight to tell her it was over, Rhen realized Jinji had passed out from the pain.

"Sleep," he whispered, kissing her gently, unable to stop himself as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her back below. The boat was not big enough for a true bed, so Rhen placed her on the small mattress pad resting on the floor, covering her with blankets.

For now, she would be all right. But Rhen had no idea how long that would last. And as he stepped back into the sun, Rhen realized something else, he also had no idea where they should go. If Airedale had turned, chances were Brython would offer no sanctuary.

As he searched the water for some sign, endless blue and the shadow of the Gates was all that greeted him. That and ominous storm clouds, the last thing he and Jinji needed. But no matter where he looked, Rhen found no answers. All he found was a mounting sense of doom, the feeling of being surrounded, caged in with no escape.

To the south, Rayfort and the enemy.

To the east, Roninhythe and the enemy.

To the west, Airedale and the enemy.

To the north, forest and woods, but no humanity, no town to hide away in, no aid.

And then Rhen remembered something—he wasn't alone in these waters. Just a day's ride away, resting between the White Stone Sea and the Straits, the entire naval force of Rayfort waited. There would be an apothecary on the lead ship. There would be food. There would be companionship and a place to rest while Jinji recovered.

It was the last place Whyllem would want him to be.

But it was also the only place Jinji might have a hope of survival.

Rhen shifted directions, turning the boat almost completely around as he aimed southwest, directly toward the Straits. The Ourthuri would be there in a matter of days, so he silently promised his brother and his family that they would be gone before then.

The rest of the day passed quickly with Rhen focused on staying the course, on keeping his thoughts clear lest his resolve weaken. Picturing Jinji, fragile and in pain below deck, was all it took to keep him from straying. No promise, not even one to his bloodline, was stronger than his promise to keep her safe—to keep her alive.

As night fell, Rhen did not sleep. The stars were his guides, glittering in the dark, only topped by the moon, brilliant enough to blind. He barely realized how much time passed until the sky lightened, growing softer, and the sun began to rise. Still he did not stop, forced his eyes to stay open, his mind to remain alert.

And the haste paid off.

By midday, Rhen spotted sails on the horizon. And just in time, as raindrops landed slowly on his skin—gradual at first, but growing steadier by the minute.

"Are you lost, sailor?" a man called when Rhen got close to the nearest ship.

Shifting his gaze, Rhen realized ten arrows were cocked in his direction. But no fear laced his veins. "Not anymore," he answered, grinning. "I'm Prince Whylrhen and I'm in need of your apothecary."

The man on the ship paused, scrunching his eyebrows. But the longer he looked, the less guarded his expression became. And Rhen knew why—the red hair, the royal seal on the shield he had left above deck, the proper lilt to his voice. And of course, the idea that who else in their right mind besides a prince would cruise to a fleet of warships unannounced.

"My Prince." He nodded, bowing slightly despite how ridiculous it was, considering he towered at least fifteen feet above Rhen's head on the deck of the ship. "The admiral is on the ship to the far left, the one flying a red triangle below the flag of Whylkin. The apothecary is with him."

"My thanks," Rhen shouted over the wind, which suddenly picked up to a light gust as the sun began to dim overhead. Hastily, Rhen made for the admiral's ship. As he drew close, the same process repeated.

"Who are you?" a sailor shouted down. After a few moments, Rhen saw the admiral approach from behind—easily recognizable by the row of gold coins hanging from the shoulder of his overcoat, just above the emblem hand-sewn into the fabric, a stallion.

"Prince Whylrhen." The admiral bowed, eyes widening as he recognized Rhen. Beside him, the sailor jumped, hastily copying his superior's movements. "What are you doing here?"

"Admiral…" Rhen trailed off, glancing closer at the older man until recognition burst into awareness. He had met the admiral before, most recently in Rayfort, back on the docks a few minutes before bidding the ships farewell. "Admiral Morraye, a dear friend of mine has been wounded and she requires the use of your apothecary."

Curiosity danced across the man's face—brows pinching, lips threatening to smile, head tilting to the side. But he did not press for more information and instead turned to his crew. "Bring them aboard immediately."

Before Rhen had time to move, a ladder was thrown over the side, landing with a bang on the deck of his smaller ship. Two sailors ambled down, securing Rhen's boat to the warship with a few ropes and tossing the anchor over the side. Then a wooden plank was carefully lowered, waiting for a body to carry.

Rhen slipped below deck, running his hand down Jinji's cheek, slowly cooing her awake. "Jin," he whispered.

With a sigh, she shook her head—still trapped between deliria and drowsiness. Her coloring was pale and a fine layer of sweat glistened across her forehead—not a good sign.

Careful not to move her too much, Rhen slipped one arm beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her legs, rising slowly. A groan slipped through her lips as her eyes fluttered open, awakened by the pain.

"Rhen?" The word was barely recognizable, but Rhen would have understood her even if no sound had come out.

"Shh," he told her as they stepped into the daylight. Even though the gathering storm clouds dimmed the harshness of the light, she still winced in his arms. "You'll be better soon."

And then he placed her on the board, holding onto her fingers for as long as he could, until she was raised high enough that he could no longer reach. Rhen climbed the ladder quickly, eyes returning to Jinji as much as possible, leaving her only when he missed a rung and nearly slipped into the sea. By the time he reached the deck, the apothecary was already there, kneeling over Jinji, examining the blood-covered cloths wrapped around her wound.

"What was the cause?" he asked, spotting Rhen as he topped the rail.

"An arrow," Rhen said, marching over and landing on his knees beside the man's robes.

"Did you remove the head or is it still trapped beneath her skin?"

Rhen shook his head. "No, I was able to remove the entire arrow, shaft and head. Without a needle and thread, the most I could do was wash the wound with salt water and cover it."

The apothecary sat up, motioning to the sailors to bring Jinji downstairs, and then turned to Rhen, dropping a hand on his shoulder. "You did very well. I'm going to examine the wound, clean it, and close it. I'll find you when I'm done, but I don’t believe you have anything to fear, my Prince."

"Can I come?" Rhen asked softly, watching Jinji disappear through a doorway.

The apothecary squeezed his shoulder once and stepped away. "I believe it's best that I work alone, Prince Whylrhen. But I will not tell you no."

Rhen met his eyes, deep brown and full of intelligence—but also laced with compassion—then shook his head. "Go and I will try my best to learn patience."

When the door below deck closed behind the apothecary, Rhen finally stood and walked to the opposite end of the ship, away from temptation. Droplets continued to pelt his skin, cool and refreshing in a way, waking him up despite the weariness settling into his bones. Gripping the rail, Rhen paused to take in the view.

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.

Yes, yes, that is them. You must go and find—

"Jin?" Rhen's voice was drowsy and he rolled over, dipping the bed below his weight.

Jinji hissed as her shoulder shifted against the pillows, pulled by the tug of the blankets. Pain zapped, throwing her from her thoughts, bringing her securely back to the ship and the wooden room around them.

"No," she cursed, trying to clear her head, trying to focus. Hello? Jinji called silently. Are you there? Can you hear me? But the voice was gone, thrown out of her head by the pain. Jinji had used that trick countless times in the dungeons, banging her head against the wall to get the whispering to stop. But this time, her body had betrayed her.

"Are you all right? I'm sorry." Rhen hastily leaned over, worry creasing his brow.

Jinji bit her lip, fighting the urge to scream. So close, she had been so close. Still, she whispered, "The Gates."

Not much, but it was something. Finally, Jinji had a direction, a destination, an actual plan to find and fight the shadow. The voice would come to her again, it was only a matter of time.

"What?" Rhen asked slowly, confused by her speech and her actions.

Jinji released a sigh, gritting her teeth against the ache as she shifted her body weight and turned toward him. With a smile, she cheerfully said, "Good morning."

Rhen grinned—the exact reaction she had been hoping for. "You look better."

"I feel better," Jinji said, and then tried to shrug, wincing instead. "Well, aside from that."

"Oh!" Rhen popped up and ran across the room, shuffling around for something but Jinji didn’t have the pain tolerance to try to sit up and watch. No matter, because he came back a moment later with a cloth in his hand. "The apothecary said to wrap this around your arm when you woke, some sort of sling."

Rhen knelt beside her bed, barely even touching her arm, too afraid he might hurt her. Ever so slowly, he slid the cloth under Jinji's forearm, stopping whenever he saw her wince so she had a minute to catch her breath. Then he reached across her body, tying the cloth around her neck.

"It should help with the pain when you move around." Rhen stepped back, looking over her with concern.

"I'm all right, really. We've been through worse."

But Rhen ignored her, worry still pouring from his expression. "Do you want to sit up? The apothecary left some herbal mixtures for the pain."

Jinji nodded.

Quickly, Rhen slid his arm underneath her torso, lifting her body and stuffing some pillows behind before walking to the other side of the room. A few minutes later, he returned with a steaming cup.

"Here," he said, handing it to her, meeting her eyes the moment their fingers touched. And then he stepped away, walking to the other side of the bed before sitting down.

Jinji sipped the tea, immediately feeling better as the warm liquid traveled down her throat, burning just a little before settling in her stomach. The taste was floral, reminding her of home and the drinks her mother used to mix. Ones to cure a tummy ache. Others to help women with birthing. Others to ease a wounded heart. One regret she had was never taking the time to listen to her mother as she tried to teach Jinji the lost art of their people—an art that was truly gone now.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked, blowing on the tea before taking another small sip. The sling made movement a little easier, but a dull ache still lived beneath her skin.

"Two days." Rhen sighed. "Two very long days."

"Long?"

Rhen shook his head. "It doesn't matter now, you're okay."

Almost subconsciously, he reached out, placing a hand over her thigh as though it were the easiest thing in the world. Even through the blankets, Jinji could feel the burn of his skin.

So much had changed.

All with one little kiss.

And yet, she felt no need to mention it, to ask him questions, almost as though this change had been inevitable, the natural progression of their friendship. There was no awkwardness, no tension. Just the subtle shift in the air that hinted at romance. Rhen began to rub his thumb in circles, massaging her skin without even realizing.

"Are we on the royal ships? Are we in the Straits?" Jinji asked, voice tight as she tried to pull her focus from Rhen's touch and the effect it was having on her.

"What gave it away?" he asked wryly, looking around, pulling his hand away to run it through his hair, which had grown curlier from their days spent at sea. "As soon as you're healthy enough, we'll sail away. I'm not looking to fight the Ourthuri, not this time."

"How far away are they?"

Rhen shook his head. "I'm not sure. A few days, a few hours? The admiral and I have been discussing it for the past two days, but the fog has made everything more difficult."

They both took a moment to look out the windows, into the unbreakable gray surrounding the ship. Jinji could hear the waves, but not see them. Could smell the salty air, but couldn't find the winds blowing it into her room.

"Normally," Rhen continued, turning back to her, "we'd be able to see for miles, would probably see the Ourthuri sails at least a full day before they reached us. But in this? We're blind."

"But they're blind too," Jinji said, nudging him with her knee.

Rhen smirked. "Trust you to see the bright side of the situation."

"You know what I'd really like to see?" Jinji raised an eyebrow, holding back her grin.

"What?"

"More fog."

Rhen just shook his head, but he couldn’t hide the lights sparking behind his gaze, the ever-brightening glow. "Are you sure you're ready to walk around? You only just woke up."

"What? And miss the view?" Jinji teased. The laughter left her lips as she tried to sit up, but Rhen sensed her pain and rushed to help, lifting her upper body so it was easy to slip from the bed to the floor.

When she stood, Rhen leaned down to kiss her softly, just a short touch, gone before it even started. He held her cheek for a moment, brushing a short strand of hair back behind her ear, and then he released her, slipping his touch all the way down her arm until their fingers interlaced.

Gone were the nerves.

Gone were the questions.

Gone were the hesitations.

Jinji and Rhen had transitioned into something more—something she didn’t want to label because whatever it was, it was perfect.

Smiling to herself, Jinji ducked her head, trailing behind Rhen as he carefully led her forward, clutching her good hand and quick to yell at any sailor who ventured too close to her wound.

As they walked up the steps and into the endless fog, dampness sunk under Jinji's skin, making the wound ache in a deeper way. But still, the fresh air, no matter how dense, was amazing to breathe. The cool air felt wonderful against her skin. After the blankets and the sweat and the fever, she needed this despite the pain.

A man approached and Jinji quickly tugged her hand free of Rhen's, but he held tight, refusing to let her go, refusing to meet her eyes. She stopped fighting. These were his people, if he wanted them to see, Jinji would not argue.

"Lady Jinji," the man proclaimed with a short bow of respect. He was older, hair dusted with the lightest hints of gray amidst the brown. His jaw was square, determined, as was the proud stance reaching from his shoulders all the way to his toes.

"Admiral Morraye was kind enough to offer the use of his apothecary and his first captain's cabin," Rhen said, supplying much-needed information.

Jinji tried her best to curtsy, despite the fact that she was back in men's clothes and only had the use of one arm. Between the injury and the sea legs, she stumbled awkwardly for a moment before standing straight with a sigh. "Pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, I assure you," the admiral replied, and his voice sounded genuine—something Jinji had found lacking in most of the newworlders she came into contact with. "I'm just happy to see you are feeling better. Our prince was quite concerned."

Jinji stole a look in Rhen's direction, just in time to see a slight flush run across his cheeks. But she looked away, hiding her own similar reaction.

"Rhen told me some of the stories from your time spent on the water…" The admiral looked between them, changing the subject with a slight glint in his eye.

Jinji shrugged, forgetting the injury to her shoulder and instantly regretting it. But the movement was so natural—a habit that would be hard to break. "I'm made for the forest," she answered, speaking just to shift her attention away from the pain. "But Rhen is a natural."

"A natural?" the admiral said, eyeing Rhen with a trace more respect.

Jinji nodded, even as Rhen squeezed her hand tight to cut off her words. But a hint of mischievousness leaked into her thoughts, spurring on an idea. Perhaps all of the time spent with Rhen was finally having an effect on her. "The fastest person I've ever seen climb the ropes. The crow's nest is his favorite spot on a ship."

"The nest?" The admiral laughed, looking high above their heads for a brief moment, before squinting at Jinji, catching onto her humor.

"The lady is giving me too much credit," Rhen suggested, shaking his head.

But the admiral ignored him, turning to Jinji. "The fastest you say?"

She nodded, holding back the smile on her lips, doing her best to look utterly serious. The pain in her arm was already fading.

"Care to place a wager?" the admiral said, eyeing her, testing the waters.

He'd guessed right.

"Absolutely," Jinji said with a grin. Rhen stood silent, dumfounded.

"Prince Whylrhen against my fastest sailor. If I win, the lady must give me a kiss on the cheek."

"And if I win," Jinji said, pausing to look around for inspiration.

"Then her champion must give her a kiss on the cheek," Rhen interjected—because of course, he was her champion.

The admiral raised his brow, extending his hand and waiting for her consent. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do, but then she remembered that handshakes were a newworlder way to make an agreement.

Jinji slipped her fingers in his and the admiral gently shook, careful to mind her injury. "We have a deal. Now, I have to find myself a sailor."

The admiral disappeared for a moment, wandering the deck to look for his champion.

"What is this all about?" Rhen whispered, looking at her oddly.

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head, caught between a grin and a frown. "I've never seen you act like this before."

"I'm in a good mood," Jinji said, and she was, surprisingly. Was it the fresh air? The latent effect of the fever? The fact that Rhen kissed her again? Held her hand before his people? Jinji didn’t know, but she didn’t care. Somehow, a little bit of fun had slipped in and she didn’t want to let it go, not yet. On that note, she tilted her head to meet Rhen's gaze, continuing to tease. "Consider this a delayed response to our long ago visit to The Staggering Vixen."

The color drained from Rhen's face.

And then he was laughing, loudly, as though the sound had been pulled from deep in his gut, cutting through layers upon layers of dark thoughts to bubble joyously into the world.

"I definitely deserve it," Rhen said with a sigh, shaking his head.

The admiral returned with a gangly sailor, likely the same age as Rhen, though for some reason he seemed younger. "My champion, the man with the fastest feet on the ocean, Sidruck."

The boy smiled, keeping his shoulders hunched in as though the attention bothered him. He met Jinji's eyes but quickly looked back down at the wood beneath his feet. Not quite the stature of a champion—Jinji glanced at Rhen's broad shoulders and poised stance—but she wouldn’t underestimate him.

Following the admiral's instruction, they walked to the edge of the ship. Rhen and Sidruck both climbed atop the rail, hands gripping the ropes, waiting for a signal. Casually, the sailors around them stopped what they were doing. Light smiles grew on their faces as they watched on, not so discretely. But as Jinji looked around, sensing the mounting joy despite the gloomy conditions, she wondered if this was what the admiral had in mind all along. A little fun before the inevitable war.

"Start!" the admiral called.

Immediately, Rhen and Sidruck began to climb. Matching foot for foot, they were even at the start of the race. Rhen gained an inch. Then Sidruck jumped ahead. Then Rhen skipped a step, jumping up a foot higher. But Sidruck quickly met him.

The farther they raced, the narrower the space began to grow and the more the wind picked up. Jinji strained her neck, watching the two men rush higher and higher, amazed by their complete lack of fear, their freedom when the ground waited so far below. The fog began to close around them, masking their features, turning them into blobs in the distance. But even with the obstruction, Rhen's hair was difficult to miss. His body began to sway back and forth with the force of the wind, slowing him down.

But Sidruck, Jinji noticed, despite being smaller with less muscular weight, was unaffected by the breeze, as though the wind passed through his body without really touching it.

Knotting her brows, Jinji urged the spirits into her vision.

Muted yellow strands immediately filled the air, swirling this way and that in the breeze, blowing out across the waves and up in the ropes where the two men hung. Red fire strands burned around Rhen's body, bright against the gray, just as Jinji expected. But right beside him, a little higher on the ropes, Sidruck glowed like the sun, surrounded in yellow spirit strands as they swirled around his body, through it, not moving even a hair on his head in the breeze.

Sidruck had an air affinity.

The elemental spirits clung to him.

Jinji bit her lip. She didn't know why, but it felt like an important discovery. For the first time, she had met someone with an attachment to air. It was the last missing element. Rhen was blanketed in fire, as was the little boy she had once rescued in the city of Rayfort. Princess Leena was surrounded by water. Though she would likely never speak to the woman again, the lady who had helped her escape the castle weeks ago, Elga, was in touch with the earth. And now Sidruck. Now air.

Jinji stepped back, lost in her thoughts.

But a cheer drew her back to the ship, to the bet, to her loss. Looking up, Jinji could clearly see Rhen a full body length lower than Sidruck on the ropes, just as the other man touched the top of the crow's nest, securing his win.

"The prince put up a respectable fight," the admiral sighed, "but alas, I'm the winner."

With a smile, Jinji kissed the cheek he leaned toward her, collecting his prize. But the moment her lips touched his slightly wrinkled skin, the air grew tense.

"Ourthuri!"

The shout came from above.

"Ourthuri!" It came again.

She broke away, looking up, looking at Sidruck as he pointed into the fog.

Jinji saw nothing.

Heard nothing.

The entire ship fell silent, waiting, watching, wondering if their champion had maybe been wrong. But Jinji knew in her gut that he was right. The air called to him, spoke to him. Maybe it brought him far away sounds, carried on the breeze. Or propelled his vision further in the fog.

Jinji wasn't sure.

But if Rhen could collect fire, surely Sidruck had special skills all his own.

And then she heard it. The flap of wind on sails, the slapping noise of the cloths pulled tight, released, and then pulled tight once more. Looking up, Jinji saw that this ship had let down its sails long ago, as had every other ship around them, to remain anchored in place. Which meant something was moving toward them.

Quickly.

The sound grew eerily louder, ghostly, coming from nowhere, hidden deep within the fog. And then a golden glint sparked to life in the distance.

Metal.

Racing toward them.

Undeniably foreign.

Undeniably Ourthuri.

16

RHEN

~ THE STRAITS ~

From the crow's nest, Rhen watched the approaching ships in horror.

Unlike the ships of his kingdom, the Ourthuri warships relied on the kingdom's slave labor—the unmarked. From this height, the white sails were undeniable, but the true power and speed came from much lower, from the constant slap of oars against water, hundreds of them, all moving in unison, manned by the unmarked. And worst of all, protruding from the front edge of the ship, the golden lance of death—the Ourthuri battering ram—wooden but coated in gold, low and sharp. One hit, and this ship would be blown to dust, sliced in half.

"Lower the sails! Raise the anchor!" the admiral shouted from below as the men around them moved into action. Sidruck, the boy who had just bested Rhen in the race, already moved to untie the sails, easily maneuvering through the ropes to loosen the knots. For a moment, the boy looked at Rhen, waiting for him to help, wondering if he would.

Rhen peered far down through the fog, finding Jinji alone in the middle of the chaos, immobile as her eyes continued to stare at the ships on the horizon. His gut screamed to go to her, but Rhen knew it would do no good. The Ourthuri would be here in minutes. There wasn't enough time to flee to their small boat, not enough time to escape the damage the battering ram would produce. If this ship were hit, their small boat would also break in the impact.

So Rhen turned from her, following Sidruck across the ropes. The best he could do was help save the ship. Then they would make their escape.

As the sails began to fall around him, horns blasted across the air, echoing through the Straits, rising from the rest of the Whylkin fleet hidden in the fog, almost completely out of sight. But Rhen tried his best not to focus on the other ships, on the men defending his kingdom, the men watching the enemy approach with mounting speed, watching as their death crept ever closer.

The moment the ship's anchor was raised, Rhen felt the water take them. Though the sails were not fully secure, the current was quick and strong, guiding the boat around and turning it parallel to the enemy fleet.

He smiled.

Though the Ourthuri had surprise on their side, nature itself was on Whylkin's side. The Straits flowed out from the White Stone Sea, emptying in the Dueling Sea, meaning that the current favored them—something for once was on Rhen's side.

"Ready the anchored crossbows!" the admiral called.

Rhen took that as his leave to shimmy down the ropes. Casting glances to the side, he could make out different people aboard the Ourthuri ships. Some in golden robes. Others with bare chests and wrists secured by iron chains. Others covered in glinting silver armor with swords held aloft. They were ready to attack, ready to fight.

But so was he.

Just as the Ourthuri ship pulled even with theirs, Rhen's feet touched the rail. He jumped down to the deck as splintering oars filled his ears, cracking and snapping as the two boats slid across each other, port side against port side.

"Jin!" Rhen called, trying to find her now that he had lost his bird's-eye view. Arrows were flying at them, littering the deck, landing close but not close enough to keep him from searching.

And then he saw her, hugging her injured arm with her good one, huddled in the center of the ship as her eyes roved the scene. Rhen sprinted, pulling her into his chest, planting his feet just as the admiral screamed, "Fire!"

The screech of chains filled the air, followed by the solid thunk of the anchored crossbows hitting their mark, breaking through the side of the Ourthuri ship and latching onto the inside of their hull. Rhen stumbled, balance challenged by the wood rippling below his feet, but held Jinji steady. The deck shuddered as the chains pulled taut, straining against the current.

But the connection held. The chains fired from the Whylkin ship were securely implanted in the side of the Ourthuri ship, and slowly, from below deck, the men began to crank. Inch by inch, the enemy ship was hauled nearer. Rhen watched the distance close, hope rising in his chest. The Ourthuri were known for their deadly ramming ships, but the men of Whylkin were the ones who excelled in hand-to-hand combat. With the shores completely invisible, leaving any land armies completely useless, the battle might still turn in his people's favor.

A hand tugged his shirt, pulling his attention away from the imminent fight. "Rhen," Jinji urged, voice insistent, "we must go."

Rhen met her fearful, pain-filled eyes and knew she was right. Though his hands itched to grip the hilt of his sword, to draw enemy blood, to fight to protect his people, those days were over. Gone was his carefree attitude. Now the weight of responsibility sat heavy on his shoulders—responsibility to his brother, his family, and mostly to the woman staring at him with all the trust in the world.

Rhen sighed.

"You're right," he said, sparing one last look behind to see bridges being lowered across the threshold as his men began to shift their weight, gearing up for the fight. Arrows sailed on both sides. War cries filled the air around them. But Rhen felt as though he and Jinji were alone, somewhere else, separate from everyone around them. And then the clash of swords broke through his trance, sending a shiver down his spine.

Moving quickly but gently, Rhen grabbed Jinji's hand and raced to the opposite side of their ship. Relief flared to life in his chest as he looked over the rail to spot their small boat still intact.

Grabbing a free rope, Rhen tied one end to the rail and knotted the other one in a wide loop. Turning to Jinji, he motioned for her to step through. "I'm going to lower you down, and then I'll follow right after, okay?"

She nodded, biting her lip, anxious at the scene just over his shoulder. Rhen closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the urge to turn around and see what caused the growing alarm in her eyes. When he opened his eyes, Jinji had already climbed over the rail and was just waiting on his signal.

"Go," he ushered. Securing the loop of the rope below her bottom and using her good arm to hold on tight, Jinji stepped off the side, falling for a moment until Rhen's strength caught her. Slowly, even as his muscles burned and screamed at him to move faster, Rhen let the rope slip through his hands. Foot by foot. Methodically. Until her feet came to a gradual stop on the small boat below.

Immediately, Jinji stood, stepping out of the loop. But as her gaze turned upward, a scream tore from her lips. "Rhen!"

He ducked, twisting around and kicking out just as the sword sliced overhead. Acting completely on instinct, Rhen grabbed the knife from his waist and slashed. The Ourthuri cried out as his stomach was sliced open, spilling blood onto the deck. Then he fell beside Rhen, landing with lifeless eyes. In less than a second it was over, but more would come. They always did.

"Prince Whylrhen!"

Recognizing the admiral's voice, Rhen paused below the rail, rope limp in his hands, and turned. An Ourthuri stood behind him, arms raised in attack, ready to cut down with the signature curved blade. But before the enemy could move, an arrow broke through his skull. A moment later, the admiral slid his sword through the man's chest.

"Better to be sure," he said with a shrug, and then put his foot on the man's broken breastplate, kicking his blade free. "I'll cover you. Go and be safe, Son of Whyl."

In the formal salute of the knights of Whylkin, the captain formed a fist with his right hand and held it across his chest, covering his heart.

Goodbye. Rhen copied the gesture, holding the admiral’s eye—amazed by the courage one man could display. But before Rhen could speak, more Ourthuri charged and the moment passed. It was time for him to go, time for him to turn every instinct off and flee.

Gripping the rope firmly, Rhen jumped over the side of the ship, sliding down so quickly that the threads burned his palms, rubbing his skin raw. With a thud, his feet landed hard against the deck.

A warm hand clutched his bicep, drawing his attention.

"Let's go." He sighed, looking down to meet her eyes. But Jinji wasn't looking at Rhen. She was looking the opposite way, drawing his attention to the fog.

Gold.

Another ship approached. And this time, the admiral would not be able to escape. With the Whylkin ship connected to the Ourthuri ship through the chains, neither would be able to maneuver out of the way. Never had a battering ram looked so deadly to Rhen's eyes.

And now he and Jinji were caught in the middle.

Rhen tensed, heart pounding.

"We must move," Jinji whispered, voice utterly calm as she shifted her attention to Rhen. "I'll do what I can, but you must take us away from here."

Dropping her arm, Jinji turned, focusing on the ship charging toward them as she lifted her free hand in the air.

An illusion.

Rhen shut his mouth, closing off the questions bubbling against his tongue—there would be time for that later. Instead, he ran to the rope at the back of the ship sinking deep under the surface of the water—the anchor. Using all of his strength, Rhen pulled, tugging, lifting hand over hand as the heavy metal slid free of the sea floor and made its way through the water.

One glance over his shoulder and his stomach slid to his throat.

The Ourthuri ship sailed forward, minutes away as the oars sunk deep, splashing in the water, rotating, diving deep again.

What was his kingdom against the mighty force of slaves? Against thousands of men who lived for nothing but to heed the orders of their king?

Rhen shook his head.

Duty. Honor. Courage. His men did not fight just to follow orders, at least he hoped not. They fought for something deeper, fought with a fire in their bellies, and he had to believe it would give them the advantage. That sheer will might save them.

Thoughts heavy, Rhen turned back around, focusing on the task at hand, on the person he could save—Jinji. Rushing to work, Rhen raised the sail, eye flickering to the quickly approaching ship as he moved. Jumping across the deck, Rhen secured the ropes, looking up, waiting, hoping. Come on, he urged at the world, at Jinji's spirits, at anything that might listen. But the cloth remained still.

No breeze aided their escape.

No gust of wind pushed their small boat aside.

Overhead, the Ourthuri ship began to tower, to loom. The battering ram crept closer, glinting even more gold as the fog started to dissipate and the sun's rays filtered through the endless clouds.

Rhen stood, watching, breath on hold.

They were going to die.

After all of this, no shadow and no phantom would end them. It would be a human battle, a human war. His eyes scanned the boat for some way to help, some way to fight, to escape.

But there was nothing.

The world began to slow, to pause. Rhen slid his hand across the bare space, slipping his fingers through Jinji's, holding her warm skin one last time.

The rhythm of the enemy oars matched the pulse in his veins—steady, thrumming, odd against the clashing chaos filtering down from the fight overhead. And then the beat changed, rushing, pulsing, as Rhen's heart surged to life and the world zoomed back into focus.

"We need to jump!" he shouted, pulling Jinji to the side. He would not give in without a fight, not like this, not so passively. Both of them deserved more, deserved to die knowing they had done everything they could to stay alive.

But Jinji kept her feet rooted to the deck, surprising him with her strength.

Rhen turned, just as she shook her head, the word no forming on her lips.

A gust of wind blew against Rhen, making him step back from the force as the sails above their heads snapped tight. The world began to shift. The shadow of the battering ram slid over their boat. Rhen held his hand aloft, sure he could touch the Ourthuri ship if he just reached forward, wondering if somehow maybe he could stop it, stop everything.

And then the wind blew strong once more.

And again.

And again.

Until they were moving out of the ship’s shadow. Out of harm's way. A grin pulled at his lips. A lightness filled his heart.

A second later, the world exploded.

Boom!

Impact.

Rhen’s stomach flipped, sinking to the ocean floor.

Wood splintered, flying into the air, landing on them, littering the deck of the boat, splashing across the waters around them. Rhen raced to Jinji, shielding her body, trying to cover his eyes as debris sailed like arrows into his skin, pelting his arms and back but not doing any serious damage.

When the dust settled, Rhen looked up slowly, surprised that water did not rush over their feet, did not consume them. Jinji shook beneath his arms, breathing rapidly.

They were safe.

Rhen gasped as his eyes shifted further.

The admiral's ship was destroyed. Cut down the middle, two sections floated in the water, slipping lower and lower below the surface. Men screamed. Moans filled the air. Sailors began to jump over the edge as arrows rained down from the Ourthuri ship. The enemy didn't care that some of their own had been thrown into the water, that some of their own were being hit by the blanket of arrows, were drowning. There was no aid. No pause. Not until every last man seemed to disappear under the icy liquid. Rhen prayed that some of his people had escaped, swam toward a friendly ship, but his heart was empty. Vacant of hope.

An eerie silence took over, broken by the gurgle of the water as it continued to swallow the ship, and the random cracks of wood continuing to break apart.

"Rhen," Jinji breathed.

But he had no answer, no words to console her, so he just held her close.

"I tried." She swallowed. "I put up an illusion of fog, tried to cover the ship, but it didn’t work. And then the other ship was so close, all I could think about was taking us away, saving us, and now…"

Jinji trailed off. Lost for words.

"Don't ever think this was your fault—the only thing that you're responsible for is saving our lives. This is war, Jinji—the fault belongs with men who sit on thrones, dreaming of glory, never caring about the consequences."

With me, he thought, with my family.

Rhen closed his eyes tight against the thought, hatred filling his veins. Why did he deserve to live? To escape?

The truth was, he didn’t. But that would never change the fact that those men died fighting to keep his family alive, fighting to save him, and he would not dishonor their memory by waiting here for death to take him.

Especially not when the fight grew more hopeless around them.

As Rhen set sail for opposite shores, for anywhere but here, the fog continued to lift, burning away as the heat of the day took over. As far as the eye could see, gold sparkled, a wall across the Straits, stretching back and back, disappearing into the remaining mist. Wooden shards exploded across the sky, decorating the surface of the water with half broken ships just waiting to sink. One by one, the ships of his homeland fell. The blood of his people flooded the sea.

And then the jagged edges of the cliffs slipped into view. Almost as soon as they did, arrows rained down across the sky, landing on Whylkin ships. Even with the distance, Rhen could hear the roars of the rebellion, the cheer of victory on their lips as his soldiers disappeared.

"Retreat," Rhen whispered, shaking his head. "Please, retreat."

But he would never know if they did, because eventually the battle vanished from view. No sound carried across the distance. No images. Almost as though it never happened, as though it were a nightmare.

Rhen rubbed his eyes.

But there was no waking from this.

The cries continued to burn his throat, even as he turned away—from his people, from his home, from his family. Turned away to keep his promise, to live, even as one word whispered across his thoughts.

Coward.

Rhen shuddered, trying to push it away. But he failed.

Coward. Deserter. Traitor.

His deepest fears all turning to truth before his eyes. Rhen had abandoned them all.

"Rhen," Jinji whispered, voice soft with concern. But he could not meet her eyes, could not look at her, could not bring himself to speak.

Jinji deserved better than him.

Everyone in the kingdom deserved better than him.

When he closed his eyes, all Rhen could see was King Razzaq sitting on his father's throne. A throne of white stone. A throne of Whyl. A throne never made for gold. Lord Hamish was a fool if he thought King Razzaq would stop at Rayfort. The Ourthuri king wouldn't be satiated until all of Whylkin was under his control, people in chains, identity burned away as scars covered their wrists.

And Rhen had no way to stop it.

His people deserved a better hero. A true Lord of Fire. A god.

For a moment, Rhen had tricked himself into thinking he could be that god, but he was just a man—no longer a prince, no longer anything but a traitor.

"Rhen, where are we going?" Jinji asked, sitting beside him and draping her arm across his broad shoulders. Her fingers barely reached.

"I don't know," he told her, voice hollow.

"I do."

The determination in her voice pulled Rhen from his thoughts, making him turn to her, meeting her gaze. Fire blazed in Jinji's eyes.

"Take us to the Gates," she said, focus drifting to the mountain peaks glimmering white in the distance, larger here on the open water than they ever appeared from Rayfort.

"The Gates? There is nothing there."

"What better place to hide?"

Rhen paused, brows knotting together. "The mountains are too steep, we'll never be able to make land. There's no food, no shelter. We should go to the forest."

"No." Jinji shook her head, adamant. "We go to the Gates."

Rhen almost wanted to fight her, but he didn’t have the energy, or the drive. Shifting directions, Rhen gazed at the mountains in the distance, an easy guide.

On his shoulder, Jinji yawned, resting her head. A tear slipped free of her eyes. For her lost loved ones. For the men who passed today. Rhen wasn't sure. But he wouldn't pry—the two of them had realized long ago that information should be offered, not stolen.

"You should go below deck and rest," he said, even as his hand brushed the hair from her forehead, running down her cheek. The silky feel of her skin brought a sense of comfort to his limbs, a slight sense of peace.

Jinji just shook her head, already dragged away by sleep, breath slowing to a steady rhythm as her lids slipped closed.

She should go below deck, to the soft bed, out of the elements, the best place to recover. But Rhen was too selfish to move her so far away. Instead, he shifted slightly, bringing her head down to rest on his lap, careful not to shift her injured shoulder too much.

His fingers continued to roam her body, drifting up and down her arm, across her back, soothing. Jinji sighed beneath his touch.

Rhen looked ahead, to the mountains breaking through the water, pure white.

He had nothing left to live for but the woman in his arms. So though he doubted the destination, he stuck true to the course.

What waited at the Gates, Rhen had no idea.

But it was important to Jinji.

And that was enough for him.

17

JINJI

~ WHITE STONE SEA ~

The sun was just beginning to rise when Jinji woke, still in Rhen's lap, muscles aching from the damp air. One glance up and she knew Rhen needed sleep far more than she. His eyes were focused on the horizon yet seemed utterly blank, hanging open, barely blinking. Deep bags cut into his cheeks, draining them of color. Everything about him felt flat, completely opposite to the lively prince she loved.

"Rhen, get some rest," Jinji said, gently sitting up. The pain in her shoulder felt mildly better, though she still took care not to move it.

"I'm okay," he whispered, voice barely audible.

Jinji looked forward, catching the mountain peaks against the light peach sky, glistening with a yellow hue in the morning light. Soon though, she knew they would be white. Even without the spirit strands filling her eyes, Jinji sensed the power pulsing from that spot, so strong she could feel it in her bones.

"We don't know what waits for us at the Gates, you'll need your strength," she said, trying a different argument. He looked weary enough that even walking might prove difficult. Still though, Rhen shrugged.

Jinji reached over, prying his fingers from the wheel. They slipped off easily, further confirming the truth in her words as his arms fell slack against the deck. Cupping his cheek in her hand, Jinji forced Rhen to meet her eyes. His gaze was hollow, and she knew exactly why—his thoughts were still stuck at the Straits and at Rayfort.

"Rhen," Jinji said slowly, making sure he heard her words. "If we reach the Gates and all we find are walls of steep mountain rock, we will both need your strength. My arm is useless, I cannot climb, so you must rest so you can be strong for both of us."

Rhen blinked as his irises narrowed, suddenly really looking at her as he absorbed her words. For a moment, Jinji thought he might protest. But he didn't. Instead, he squeezed her fingers tightly one time and wordlessly stepped below deck.

She took his place, settling in with her back against the mast, loosely holding the boat on course with her good arm, and waited for the voice to come.

I'm here, she shouted across her mind.

Silence.

Jinji sighed. The voice would come, true, but who knew when. Likely when she least expected it, unless she could speed the process along.

So Jinji tried to separate from her body, stepping out of the world and into her thoughts. She focused on those distant mountain peaks until her vision grew hazy, unfocused, all the while letting her thoughts wander, moving her attention inward and leaving the physical behind.

Of course, the first place her mind wandered was to Rhen, hopefully fast asleep a few feet below her. Part of Jinji ached to run down and wake him, to bring some hope to his sad, lost eyes. She wanted to tell him what might wait at the Gates, her true powers, a way to defeat the shadow, finally some answers.

But the other half kept her lips sealed, buried the words deep inside. Because as much as she wanted to see him hope again, Jinji knew another defeat might destroy him. And for all she knew, the Gates would only hold more questions, more disappointments, more failures.

Why haven't you healed yourself yet? the voice asked, yanking Jinji from her preoccupation with Rhen.

She grinned—like she'd thought, only a matter of time. But then Jinji paused, actually listening to the words. She sat up, asking slowly, "What do you mean?"

I can sense that our body is still in pain, still ill, but I know it has been at least a day since we spoke. Why did you not heal yourself? The ache is a block in our connection—it makes us weak.

"Heal myself? How do I do that?" Jinji asked, voice full of wonder, utterly confused.

Just think it and it will be done, as we do all things.

"But," Jinji paused, biting her lips, "but those are just illusions, tricks, it's not real."

Not real? You weave the spirits, the very elements of this world, a world created by the powers we possess. How could it not be real?

"But," Jinji started and then stopped, brows furrowing as random memories slipped to the forefront of her thoughts.

The illusion of Rhen in the darkness of the dungeons, actually holding her, body firm beneath her touch, arms tightly wound around her frame, so real.

The fires in the underground castle—the flames Rhen was able to pull under his skin, was able to manipulate just like the fire threads always circling his body.

The gusts she created to blow against their sails, sending them freely out of the path of the Ourthuri ship, sending them away—not imaginary but actually affecting the world around her.

Something had changed when the voice had awoken inside of her—Jinji sensed the shift in her illusions, but never realized how drastic the transformation was until this moment. She had come so far from the dim images of Janu woven in the clearing of her family home, slightly translucent, rudimentary. Now, the world bent at her command.

Swallowing, Jinji closed her eyes, picturing the wound beneath her bandage, the cut slicing her shoulder, causing her pain. And then she imagined it gone, picturing unbroken and unscarred skin, weaving away the hurt.

Slowly, the ache began to subside.

Spurred on by the diminishing pain, Jinji continued to weave the spirit threads, reaching beyond them, deeper to the jinjiajanu, the mother spirit willingly bowing to her commands. That was her true power source, her true connection. And then she knotted the threads, tying them off, and opened her eyes.

The world looked the same.

But everything was suddenly different.

Moving her shoulder was easy, caused her no throb. Eagerly, Jinji reached for the knot behind her head, removing the sling, letting it fall onto the deck. Next went the bandages. Below, her copper skin was unmarred. No stitches. No wound. No scar. Nothing but the perfect golden glow of her natural complexion.

Jinji grinned.

Gaze slipping to her wrists, Jinji closed her eyes, imagining the ugly scars circling them away. Moments later, she opened them. Her skin was perfect, just as beautiful as she remembered, and for a moment Jinji thought she might cry. The constant reminder of her weeks spent in captivity, the constant reminder of the dark, of the shadow, gone.

But then she paused.

Closed her eyes.

Opened.

A thin line circled her upper arm, almost like a piece of string but it was dark against her skin. Getting rid of her scars, washing them completely away, was not the answer. Jinji could not just erase the past. Each of those memories was part of who she was, so Jinji wove a new scar—one of her own creation. A reminder, not of her hardships, but of her strength.

"I'm healed," she whispered, voice full of awe. For a moment, she wanted to jump, to shout, to scream to the skies. Instead, she tightened her muscles, watching the new scar flex around her bicep, strong. And that small gesture was victory enough. "What next?"

We must go to my home, the voice said, tone laced with concern. I sense that something is not right there. Can you feel it?

Jinji glanced back to the Gates, spirits swirling in her vision. The white spirit strands were bright in her eyes, almost blinding, but buried beneath them was a darkness. Trying to look beyond the ivory, Jinji squinted, but the spirit strands were too strong, too light, and she could not look past them to see what hid out of sight.

"Is it the shadow?"

The voice sighed. I don't know. But my shadow-self is the only other person who might be able to find the entrance to my home. No human could make the journey without aid.

"We're still at least a day's ride away," Jinji said, shaking her head in frustration.

Then make us move faster…

It was a challenge.

One she gladly accepted.

Knowing that she wove not just spirit threads, not simple illusions, but the actual physical world gave Jinji renewed strength and renewed determination. She commanded the wind to blow against her sails, and it did. She commanded the water under the boat to flow in her direction, and it did. Every ounce of resistance nature might offer was shut down by mere thought. The waves stilled and then surged from behind, pushing one after the other against the back of the boat. For a moment, they were airborne as the gusts ripped into the sails, carrying them almost in flight.

The world began to rush by, a flash of turquoise and blue as it blurred around her. The Gates were the only still spot on the horizon, steady but growing larger and larger with every passing second.

Jinji lost track in the exhilaration. For the first time in a long time, she felt powerful. Useful. Free. What was the shadow against this? When they next met, she would be ready. And the shadow would beg for her mercy.

Enough!

Jinji stumbled, blinking as the world stopped around her. The water slowed. The wind died. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains looming overhead. No more than fifty feet away, the Gates waited.

"What do I do now?"

Follow my command and I will lead you to the entrance. For now, let the winds take you left until we reach a break in the rock. Our destination is in the center.

Jinji listened, blowing winds into the sails, leading them around the rock. So close, Jinji gasped at the colors in the stone, undulating just like the current. Not white as it had always looked, but a combination of every color, as though all four elemental strands were trapped below the surface, moving, waiting to be used, molding together into a crystalline color.

Rough waves crashed against the surface, splashing higher than any castles Jinji could remember seeing, coating the rock in a glistening polish. In the sun, she could hardly imagine how bright and beautiful it would look. Even in the shade, Jinji was mesmerized.

And the more she watched, the more she failed to understand how Rhen's ancestors had ever been able to mine enough rock for Rayfort. How had they managed to bring a boat close enough? Tools? How many men had they lost stealing those stones? Because that’s how it felt to her now, as though these mountains belonged to her, and every piece that was missing, no matter how small, was a travesty.

The stones in Rayfort were dead, but the ones filling her eyes now were alive with the spirits, filled to the brim with power, magnetic as they called to her.

There is the break, the voice said, calmer than Jinji ever remembered her sounding.

She looked ahead and there it was, the mountain wall came to an end in a jagged, steep cliff and a new peak rose just a few feet away, just as sharp and sudden as the other. Yet in between the mountain walls a little river of water flowed through, bright blue against the surroundings.

Jinji bade the waters calm.

The splashing stopped. The water receded, stilled, until the surface was as clear as glass. The elemental spirit strands screamed to let them go, to be free, but Jinji held tight.

The winds blew forward and soon enough they were surrounded in stone, slipping through a path far narrower than the Straits. Behind her, Jinji slowly let the waters go, let them crash against stone, but before her the canal remained serene.

At every fork, the voice commanded she follow the water left or right and Jinji listened closely, feeling like one with the guardian spirit. Underneath her skin, familiarity began to bubble even though Jinji knew she had never seen these sights before. But in the back of her mind, a millennium of memories waited, untouched but still there, fighting to be remembered.

The entrance is ahead, where the rock rests flat.

Jinji saw it almost as soon as the words filled her mind, a flat slab of rock, no larger than the size of a room. The floor was smoother than anything Jinji had ever seen, free of even the slightest bump. Three sides were surrounded by water and one held a flat wall of stone, marred by no door or visible entrance, but it was obviously her destination.

Using the winds, Jinji drew as close as possible, until she felt the gentle thud of the wood hitting rock. And then she wove an icy weave, freezing the water around her boat, securing it tightly to its location before she jumped over the rail and onto the solid ground below.

Stepping up to the wall, Jinji pressed her hand against the rock. It was warm, breathing into her palm as though it sensed her touch. Sliding her fingers along the flat surface, Jinji walked across the space until she felt a shift below her skin.

This rock was hollow.

No spirits moved beneath her palm.

It was just an illusion.

Jinji stepped back, sensing the woven strands, finding the knot and unraveling it. When she opened her eyes, a circular alcove greeted her, leading to a narrow staircase disappearing up. Hesitating, Jinji looked back at the boat, surrounded by ice and utterly still.

Rhen.

The fact that he slept was a testament to how much he needed to rest, how close to the brink he had pushed his body.

Should she leave him?

Jinji looked up through the break in the rocks to the blue sky waiting so far away, just a sliver in her eyes, hidden by the white walls around them. He would be safe here, far away from wars and fights, almost frozen in time.

My shadow-self waits, the voice interrupted, I can feel him.

Jinji's heart stopped.

Her gaze shifted to the staircase once more. Then back to the boat. Torn.

Leave the fire spirit. We can come for him after.

Though she worried Rhen would be confused if he woke before her return, angry that she left him, Jinji knew she needed to listen—she needed to face the shadow alone. So, hard as it was, Jinji stepped forward, one foot at a time, slowly, fighting the urge to turn and beg for his help.

Being alone terrified her. Sent a cold chill down her spine.

But she didn't stop.

Step after step she climbed. The rocks around her glowed in the dark, creating a light all their own, different from the sun but just as warm to her. Comforting. Empowering. When she reached the top, muscles straining with exertion, the scene grew slightly more familiar.

A flat clearing spread out before her, circular and open. The view held endless sky to the left and right as the mountain diverged into two separate peaks, one behind her and one across. Jinji stepped on the flat rock, looking up and then sweeping her gaze in a wide circle, turning on her spot.

Straight ahead, another archway was carved in the surface of flat stone, framing a new set of stairs leading upward. But something nearby pulled Jinji, made her want to explore. So she walked to the edge, grabbing onto the rail, looking down to the choppy waters below. No land was visible. Just endless water and endless sky, reminding her of the vision the voice had accidentally given her, of the man and the dragon flying toward her, gliding across the sky.

This was that spot.

The moment the memory popped into her head Jinji recognized it. Remembered the dragon’s sweeping arc of fire as it descended, landing in the wide-open space, allowing the man to slide from its scales.

Jinji turned away, looking back from where she came, to the staircase she had just crested. Beside it, another archway waited with more steps.

She stopped in the middle, unsure of which staircase to take.

Left or right.

Left, the voice commanded. That is where my shadow-self waits.

Jinji paused, still looking over her shoulder to the other door, but relented. There would be time to ease her curiosity later.

Direction set, Jinji made her way across the platform and up the remaining steps. Running. Sprinting. The higher she climbed, the more familiar the entire scene became.

The white walls.

The windows.

The steps.

In her mind, Jinji saw them covered in blood. In her heart, a sense of dread bubbled to life. Though the memory was not her own, in this moment, Jinji felt like it was. All of the bodies. All of the death. Crystal clear, the images flashed before her eyes, horrifying. The voice whimpered, but did not tell her to stop.

When she reached the top, Jinji knew one thing for certain. Just like the last time, they were not alone.

"Where are you?" she yelled.

Her voice echoed through the silence, bouncing across the smooth walls surrounding her. The room resembled the entryway at Rayfort, lined with columns, speckled with different hallways leading to various other rooms. But Jinji was certain that the shadow waited here—not down a random hallway, hiding in an empty room somewhere in the maze.

He was here.

He was watching her.

Eyes burned her skin, setting the back of her neck on fire with awareness. So she spun, but there was nothing and no one there.

Suddenly soft laughter filled the room. Low. The voice was weak but the tone itself was strong, menacing.

"You don't have control," a man said, mirthful, disbelieving.

Jinji tried to locate the source but in this cavernous room, the sound came from everywhere at once.

"Your human still owns you," the man continued, laughing softly again. His voice was scratchy. "Even better than I expected."

"Show yourself," Jinji commanded, holding her feet in place. She cleared her mind, shooed the voice away, gathered her strength, and then imagined a wall of arrows floating behind her, frozen, waiting for a target. One by one, the wooden spears shimmered to life beside her, a deadly frame.

"You won't need those," the man called.

I'm going to kill you, Jinji silently whispered, not wasting her breath, strong in her conviction. The arrows around her began to buzz, to hum with the need to move as she suctioned them taut, pulling back on the air as though it were a bow.

A shuffling step broke the silence.

Jinji held her breath.

This is for my mother, my father, Leoa, my people.

Another step.

For Rhen. For countless others you've killed across the kingdom, unnamed. For those you killed in the past.

Another step.

For me.

A bare foot appeared from behind a column, stepping into the light. Not waiting, Jinji released. The arrows sailed.

The man walked into the open.

Jinji stopped. Fell to the ground. Her arrows did the same, raining down against the stone, clicking across the silence.

She couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t speak.

And then one word broke through. Barely a whisper.

"Janu?"

18

RHEN

~ THE GATES ~

Rhen was in chains. Wrists bound, feet bound, pulled from the back of a horse as he stumbled over broken pavement. Bits of stone tore into the soles of his feet, leaving a path of bloody footprints behind him.

"Jin." He coughed, looking to the woman beside him. But she had passed out minutes before. The horse dragged her lifeless, clothes tearing against the ground, copper skin growing black from dirt kicked up by the hooves.

More than anything, he wanted to reach down and help, to carry her, to hold her. But his hands were secured, pulled forward, and strain as he did, there was no release.

"She's hurt!" he cried, but his voice was scratchy and dry. Barely loud enough for him to hear. "Please!"

The rider gave no response.

They continued ceaselessly forward until Rhen began to recognize the view.

Rayfort.

The road was broken, the wall torn down, the homes burned to ash. But Rhen would always recognize his home. Bodies lay in the rubble, long since dead. Men. Women. Even children.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't.

This is all your fault, his thoughts whispered, all your fault.

A tear slid free, making a path down his cheek, but Rhen could not wipe it away, could not stop it.

The castle slipped into view. Bodies hung from the gates, but Rhen could not bear to look, he didn’t want to see his family, to lose all hope that someone might have gotten away.

You were supposed to be that someone.

He shook his head, dispelling the blame. But it was true. He was supposed to keep the bloodline alive, and even in that, he had failed.

The horse stopped. Rhen slammed into its backside before realizing, quickly regaining his balance, bending over to hold Jinji, to try his best to wake her. But her lids were closed, utterly still. Her chest barely rose and fell. Her pulse was slow. And the color quickly drained from her sun-blessed skin, growing far too pale, far too gray.

He kissed her, but even that got no response.

"Prince Whylrhen," a deep voice called.

Rhen looked up, gasping. An auburn colored horse stepped into view, coat broken by lash lines, skin torn away from the cuts. Ember. And there was no recognition in her eyes. As though the memory of Rhen had been beat out of her, forced away by the torture. And on her back, too big for such a gentle creature, rested King Razzaq. The crown of Whylkin sat heavily on his head.

"Welcome home," he said, grinning. Then he slid a golden sword from his waist, lifting it high overhead.

Rhen couldn't fight.

Couldn't move.

There was no ounce of fire left in his blood. So he waited, patient, as the blade caressed the air, swinging in a wide arc toward his neck…

Rhen's eyes burst open and he panted, chest aching, vein in his neck throbbing as his hands rose, blocking the imaginary sword.

A dream. It was just a dream.

Not real.

Not yet.

He closed his eyes, dropping his hands back to the mattress, and then opened them again. In. Out. In. Out. He tried to calm his body, to push the fear away. But as his breath began to slow and the real world slowly came back into focus, a tingle shivered up his spine.

Everything was too still.

Too silent.

"Jin?" he called, easing up on the mattress, stretching his sore muscles. Something felt completely wrong. Though he sat on a boat, the motions were absent, the undulation of water, the sounds of the sea. And most terrifying—there was no answer from above deck.

"Jin?" he tried again, standing. Perhaps she couldn’t hear him over the wind? Perhaps she had fallen asleep as well?

But as soon as he opened the hatch, Rhen gasped.

White.

Everywhere, surrounding him, everything was white stone. Rhen frowned, eyes glancing up to see the sky far away overhead. Glancing down, he saw turquoise water flowing gently and yet the boat did not move, not even in the slightest.

The Gates.

They had to be at the Gates—but how? Surely Rhen hadn't been asleep for that long. The weariness in his bones, the slight ache in his temples, and mostly the drowsiness still tugging on his thoughts—all of that pointed to a short sleep, not a long, rejuvenating rest.

Jumping over the rail, Rhen landed with a thud on solid rock, polished smooth beneath his fingers. Unnatural against such a rugged mountain landscape. Moving his hands closer to the edge of the boat, Rhen's skin froze, burning from the cold. Ice surrounded the wood, holding it still, keeping it in place.

But the air was warm around him, the waters just a few feet away moved freely. The ice too was unnatural, just like the stone. But Rhen had an idea of where it came from.

Jinji.

Just like the candles, just like the wind, she was controlling her gifts, pushing them to the limit. There was no other explanation. So where had she gone? Why had she left him?

"Jin!" he shouted, louder this time. But the only response was the echo of his voice.

Rhen stood, turning slowly around, stopping suddenly when his eyes landed on an archway in the wall. Peering closer, he made out steps carved from white stone. Shaking his head, Rhen walked to the opening, placing his hand against the surface. It was warm. And though the steps should have been dark from lack of sunlight, the path glowed with an inner radiance emanating from the rocks themselves.

He stepped back, mouth dropping.

The Gates were a place surrounded in myth. For his entire life, Rhen had heard the stories—that these mountains were the home of the gods, were the entrance to their realm, or the opposite, an entrance to the underworld, belonging to the dead. No matter what tale, the idea was the same—the mountains were a gateway to another world. That was where the name came from, but Rhen never believed it could be true. Not until now. Because the stone beneath his skin was alive. It thrummed with power. And the doorway was open, waiting for him.

Rhen swallowed.

You better be up there, Jin.

And then he stepped cautiously forward, placing one foot on the first step and pausing, waiting for something—a door to close behind him, a quake in the earth, a hidden arrow to pierce his heart. Something.

But after a few moments with no change, his pulse began to slow and his fear subsided, replaced by curiosity. Rhen took the steps two at a time, racing, smiling as his blood began to pump and a renewed sense of adventure filled his veins.

It felt good to do something.

Anything.

He'd had enough of sailing endlessly toward the horizon, no destination, no future, no hope. At least now he was moving, running with his own two feet, exhilarated. Rhen had no idea what waited at the top of the steps, but it almost didn’t matter. What mattered was the speck of life filling his heart, bringing him back from the brink.

This place was magical.

And the unknown force that filled the walls around him had leaked into his veins, filling Rhen with new light.

Still moving at full speed, though his chest burned and his breath came short, Rhen burst through the archway at the top of the steps, reining back his energy as the wide-open space of what appeared to be some sort of courtyard popped into view. There were no trees, no flowers, no grass—but it was a courtyard nonetheless, just like the one in front of the palace at Rayfort. White stone covered the floor and walls, was carved into a rail around the edge. Another archway rested across the way, but Rhen didn’t run toward it, instead he walked to the edge, looking down.

Far below, white caps from crashing waves decorated the sea. Steep cliffs of rock wove in and out, surrounding this perch. Far into the distance, the horizon waited, pale blue with hints of yellow from the sun. But even from this height, he could see no land, no sign of Whylkin.

Until spotting the water so far below, Rhen hadn’t realized how high he had climbed. The distance didn’t feel so great, but perhaps that was just another side effect of the magic in these rocks. They were in the center of the Gates, Rhen was certain, on the highest peak. But it was broken in two.

He looked to one side, to a rock archway leading to more steps.

He looked to the other, back where he had entered the courtyard, and saw another door with steps leading up.

Which way to choose?

Which direction?

As though answering his call, a gray mist appeared, out of place against so much ivory.

The phantom had returned once more. But this time was different. The shade was lighter, flickering, not as solid as before. The phantom did not swirl into the shape of a man, there was no pointing, no leading. It was just a cloud, barely there, being swept away in the breeze.

"Where do I go?" Rhen asked.

The mist shifted, gliding a few inches to the right, back toward the side Rhen had come from. After a few seconds, it disappeared—gray fading away until Rhen was alone once more.

But it was enough.

He stepped back toward the steps that brought him up and took the archway right beside them. For a while, everything was the same. White stone, the subtle glow, the endless circling.

But then the steps opened to a landing.

Rhen paused—continue up or take a moment to look around?

The choice was easy. He stepped through the archway and immediately wind whipped against his cheeks, making Rhen stumble. White stone surrounded him, no windows and no openings to the outside. Yet the wind grew stronger with every step he took down the long hallway.

Rhen squinted, trying to see what waited at the end of the corridor, but the wind was almost opaque, shielding everything from view as it pushed him against the walls, back and forth, until finally Rhen fell, landing hard on his bottom. A strong gust pressed into his side, rolling him over, flipping him, until he got the message.

Whatever the room was—he was not welcome.

Off balance, Rhen dragged himself back to the steps, realizing he had only managed to step a few feet into the space. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the wind stopped. The world was completely still. Not even a hair on his head moved.

Cautiously, Rhen slipped his hand back through the arch. Instantly, it was thrown to the side and back out to where he sat on the steps.

Strange, he thought, lifting his hands before his eyes and bending his fingers. Where did the wind come from? Why?

Glancing toward the steps, Rhen stood. He had nowhere else to go but up, so he climbed. Round and round, losing count of the steps beneath his feet. And then a blue glow broke through the monotonous white, shimmering over the steps. Rhen raced higher, stopping dead when he realized where the light was coming from.

An archway made of water.

Impossible.

Yet there it was. Flowing and fluid, as though a sheet of perfectly clear glass held it back, kept it from cascading down the steps. Rhen reached out to feel the invisible material holding the water in place, but his hands passed through the arch and sunk into the liquid.

He yanked his fingers back.

Clear drops slid from his palm. Wet.

But Rhen could swim, so he let the intrigue get the best of him and stripped off his shirt before diving headfirst through the door.

For a moment, he winced, anticipating the impact of a hard stone floor. But Rhen landed as one would in the ocean, surrounded by a pool of water that slid easily across his limbs, bubbling under his movement. Pumping his arms, he swam.

And swam.

And swam.

But nothing broke through the blue, no exit, no door, no end in sight. And his breath was running low. So he turned, eyes set on the shimmer of white in the distance as he made his way back.

Gulping in air, Rhen burst through the archway and landed hard on the steps, tumbling down a few before regaining his balance. As he caught his breath, his mind began to spin.

First air.

Then water.

What would be next?

Rhen's blood burned, already anticipating the warm heat of fire. Were these tests? Was there an alley of flames only someone like him could walk through?

Rhen ran, taking the steps two at a time until he came to another landing. This time, the arch was blocked by twisting green vines.

Earth.

He didn't bother to stop. He knew what came next.

Rhen saw the orange glow before he saw the archway. So he was not surprised when he circled round the steps, greeted by a door of raging flames.

Fire.

His fire.

Rhen grinned, showing no hesitation as he stepped through the arch and into the heat, letting the flames lick and burn his skin. Everywhere he looked, fire swarmed, flickering, smoldering. Crackling pops filled his ears and his clothes burned away almost instantly. Even his skin began to sweat.

Rhen breathed in and pulled.

The torrent answered his call, funneling under his skin, filling him to the brim with lava, molten in his veins. But still, the fires around him burned strong. So Rhen pulled again. More heat pummeled his body, surging below his skin, not wanting to be contained.

But when he opened his eyes, there was no change. No pause. The fire was just as strong and just as pervasive. So Rhen did the only other thing he could think of—he walked.

The tunnel seemed to lead nowhere—either that or Rhen could not see through the flames. They were everywhere, covering everything. Even the white stone had disappeared from sight.

But he kept pressing forward.

Not stopping.

Not pausing.

Until a small break in the flames hinted at a doorway in the distance.

He ran—too afraid to think, to hope, to dream of what might be waiting for him at the end. But when he burst through the exit, skin red and sweaty, cool air was all he felt. A white stone room surrounded him, a small entry filled with only a box.

Rhen lifted the lid, smiling at what lay underneath. Pants and a fresh shirt, crudely woven, but placed there by someone who clearly understood what someone walking through the tunnel would face.

Next to the box, another archway to another room made of stone.

Rhen held his breath and walked to the edge. Closing his eyes tight, hardly daring to hope that more than blank stone waited on the other side, he stepped through and opened them.

Elation surged up his throat, bursting out with a disbelieving shout Rhen couldn't stop. He shook his head, blinking, rubbing his eyes to make sure it wasn't a mirage, pinching himself to make sure it wasn't a dream. And then tears pricked at his eyes, of hope, of amazement, of gratitude.

A dragon lay still in the center of the room.

The beast was curled as though asleep, front paws folded neatly below a massive head, forming a pillow. Sharp rocks cut across its forehead, charcoal razors. And the claws—each one seemed the size of Rhen's hand and more deadly than any knife. Deep ebony scales glistened in the light shining down from the open sky, sparkling molten red every time the sun shifted.

Its wings were huddled around its body, covering it, sheltering it. The exposed bones resembled a sword just pulled from the furnace, molten hot, fiercely golden from heat, filtering back to black toward the tips. And across those bones, a thin, almost translucent, blanket of shadowy skin for wings. The last thing he noticed was the tail, covered in more sharp black rock, perfect for whipping.

Unable to stop himself, Rhen stepped forward, pulled by forces beyond his control as his fingers slid gently along the inky scales, flashing fiery as they moved beneath his touch.

But the dragon did not stir, did not wake.

Was it sleeping?

Was it alive?

Rhen walked around to the head, running his fingers over the rocky surface, down the creature's snout, over its sharp teeth, still burning with the haunt of long gone flames. He thought back to the underground castle, the painting on the wall, the rider, and realized that the dragon wasn't dead, it wasn't dreaming—it was waiting.

Waiting for a new rider.

Waiting for him.

Rhen stood tall and stepped back, taking a deep breath before mustering all of his strength to utter two forceful words.

"I'm here."

Two slits slid open across the dragon's face, two molten red eyes, burning brighter than flames as they stared at Rhen, examining him, scrutinizing, before closing once more.

Rhen almost spoke.

Almost stepped closer.

But then a tremor passed through the dragon's body, a shiver. Its neck moved, then its body shifted, rising on four legs. Stretching wide, the wings unfurled, filling the entire room. The dragon shook, throwing its head back and forth as it pumped its wings. Fire exploded beneath its skin, bubbling yellow and red, leaving a blazing trail across the air. And then it roared, breathing flames into the sky, letting the sparks rain down upon the room below.

The very mountain trembled. The earth shook.

But Rhen didn’t.

He just laughed as the inferno raged around him.

19

JINJI

~ THE GATES ~

"Janu?" Jinji whispered, not believing her eyes or her words.

But it was him.

It was her brother.

Unable to stop herself, Jinji reached out with her hand, closing the distance, but she stopped short of touching his face, worried her fingers would pass through the mirage just as they had done countless times with her illusions.

Yet, somehow she knew this was different.

He was different.

His copper skin was pale as sand, not bronzed from time spent in the sun. His frame was tall like a man, but thinner than she ever would have believed, frail. Not strong like the hunters of their tribe, not strong as she always imagined he would be if he had lived. But mostly, Jinji knew he was not an illusion because of the expression on his face.

Where was the smile, wide and mischievous?

Where was the grin, the laughter always teasing to bubble over?

His thin lips were drawn flat. His broad cheekbones did not puff with hidden mirth. And his eyes were wrong—framed by full lashes and a deep brown, but there was no joy behind them, no playfulness.

Jinji curled her fingers into a fist, pulling her hand back to her chest away from the man who was once her brother, but was not anymore.

Now, he was the shadow.

"What did you do to him?" Jinji whispered.

The shadow shrugged. "The same thing my spirit-self did to you."

It’s his true body, the voice screamed across Jinji's mind, making her wince as a sense of urgency flooded her mind. Just look at his eyes, this is no possession.

Jinji listened, realizing that Janu's irises were not flooded white the way every other person's had been. Maniuk's ivory eyes haunted her dreams, empty as they killed everyone she loved. Or the queen's blank stare, devoid of life as she stabbed her son. But Janu's brown eyes were just that—brown. Darker than she remembered, more haunted, but still normal.

You must kill him, the voice continued, insistent. Send him back to the ether. We can end this now. You can end this now.

Jinji closed her eyes, shaking her head, picturing a blade in her hand. A hilt filled the empty space between her fingers, and she opened her lids, looking down to see the gleam of a knife. Jinji tightened her fist, looking up.

He was the shadow.

He needed to die.

Do it! the voice screamed.

She lifted the blade overhead. The shadow did not move, did not run. He watched, a small smile across his lips as though amused.

Amused like Janu used to be.

Her brother.

Alive.

Right in front of her.

The knife wobbled as Jinji's hand trembled. She could stop the deaths. End the killing. Bring justice to her people.

But he was her brother.

He was Janu.

Jinji screamed, bringing the blade down through empty space as she ran forward, closing the distance between them. Her body slammed into the shadow, propelling them both backward until they hit a wall. Knife at his throat, Jinji leaned in close. But the shadow showed no fear, no weakness.

"How?" she asked, pressing the blade into the skin of his neck, just shy of drawing blood.

The shadow smiled and it broke her heart to see such malice on lips she had only ever imagined with joy. "I've been with your brother for his entire life, whispering into his ear. I watched both of you grow up, and I watched you grow close. Too close. So as soon as he was old enough, I decided to act. You left me alone too many times, and it was my turn to leave you."

"But I never left you."

"My spirit-self may not have control yet, but I feel her inside of you. I've always felt her watching. She is you and you are she. That's how it's always been."

Jinji swallowed the lump in her throat, processing the words. "And you are him and he is you?"

"Always."

"Can he hear me?" she asked, barely breathing as the knife grew dimmer and dimmer in her hands, disappearing from existence. "Janu?"

"He is calling out your name, crying, shouting to be let free, to wrap his arms around you." The shadow shrugged, unaffected.

Jinji stepped back, hugging herself as her body trembled and tears burned to life in her eyes. It was too painful to be so close yet so far away, to be with her brother and without him, to have such hope and such despair. It was as though he were dying all over again, as though the past had come back, more haunting the second time around.

"What does my spirit-self say?" the shadow asked.

Jinji couldn’t think of anything but wanting to hurt him, to pain him using the only weapon she could—words. "She screams at me to kill you."

"Ah, yes," he said. No surprise colored his tone. "I bet she does. But that is why I chose this body in the first place."

"Why?" Jinji asked, but she already suspected the answer. The voice continued to plead in the back of her thoughts, to urge her to action, but Jinji was stuck, immobile.

"Do you know what it is like to live through the dead?" The shadow paused, thinking, folding his hands behind his back before meeting her eyes once more. And then he laughed, shaking his head. "No, of course not. My spirit-self never understood. I bring their souls through the ether, I watch over them in my realm, listening to their memories as they wait for new life. With time, the souls grow weaker, and they remember less and less of their years in the spirit realm. But what lingers is always the same—family, love. Those bonds are the strongest. The easiest to predict."

Jinji focused her thoughts, trying her best not to linger on the shade of his skin, the gentle lull to his words that reminded her of their father's voice, the face that was nearly the mirror image of her own.

She swallowed.

"You know I cannot kill you."

The shadow smiled, almost sadly. "I know you cannot kill him. And I know you will not let her kill him either."

Jinji's heart sunk.

He was right.

"What do you want?" she murmured, helpless, stumbling as the fight quickly drained from her body.

The shadow frowned, squinted. "What does my spirit-self tell you?"

"That you seek to take away everyone she could possibly know or love, to leave her alone in this world so that she will come back to you."

He nodded, sharpening his gaze. "And what do you think I want?"

Jinji looked into his hard eyes, unrelenting, unforgiving. There was no soul left in him—the shadow was just darkness, bitterness and hatred all thrown into one. She shook her head, saying only one word, "Chaos."

He shook his head. "You are both wrong."

"Then what? What is it?" Jinji challenged, blood beginning to pump once more as anger fueled her veins.

He stepped close, narrowing the space between them, looking down over her with his superior height. Lips drawn thin, emotion finally flooded his face—rage. Through gritted teeth, he hissed, "I want you to feel trapped. I want this world to become your prison, your cage, until in the end you are begging to return home with me, begging for forgiveness."

When he spoke, Jinji knew it was not to her. His eyes passed through her, stared at something deep within her irises. And in the back of her mind, the voice cowered, desperately sad.

"She never meant to hurt you," Jinji said.

The shadow blinked, now staring only at her. "She broke her promise."

Because I had to, the voice whimpered, cracking, more hurt than Jinji ever remembered hearing.

"She had to," Jinji said, speaking the voice's words.

"Why?" he sneered.

Jinji waited, listening for an explanation. The voice hesitated, buzzing in the back of her brain, unsure if any words could make a difference. Because my realm is breaking, my world is crumbling, and I must save it. But I was going to come back after this life, I was going to stay with him.

"She says this world needs her, that it is breaking and must be fixed." Jinji paused, searching for understanding somewhere in the shadow's soul, knowing she would find none. Instead, his lips turned into a snarl. But she pressed on, "She says she only intended to come for one lifetime, and that afterward she was going to stay with you."

"Her world, her humans," the shadow drawled, releasing a quick puff of air, something between a laugh and a sigh. "Everything was always about her and her world. Did she ask to leave just for one lifetime? No. I could have helped, I could have granted her new life, a body of her own. But instead she decided to ride on the back of another soul, you, stealing your life and stealing an entrance into the realm. She chose not to include me, as she always has, and I’m through being left behind."

Jinji watched as he continued to mutter, stepping back and forth, almost pacing. Try as she might to discard his words, something about them rang true—the voice was not so guilt free as she claimed. Why not ask for permission? Why not tell him? Why not be truthful?

In the back of her mind, the voice remained silent.

There were no answers for the questions Jinji was throwing her way.

And the quiet just made more doubts fly. What if the voice had asked for help? Would Jinji's life have been her own, no spirits and no illusions? Would the shadow have left her brother alone? Would her people still be alive? Would she be happy? Would she be free?

Yes.

Each question led down the same road. And each had the same answer.

Yes.

When she looked up, the shadow was watching her, eyes full of delight. "My spirit-self is not so innocent and now you see that too."

Jinji swallowed the daydreams back down her burning throat—forgetting what could have been. That future was long gone, taken away not by the voice, but by the shadow before her.

"Perhaps she has not told me the complete truth, but she is far less guilty than you."

"A loyal friend." He sighed, raising his brows. "But not so loyal that you'll kill me and end it all now."

Jinji remained silent, completely still. But that was response enough.

"Well," he continued, "you can tell my spirit-self not to be so worried about her world. One lifetime is all I need to destroy it. Unless of course, you decide to destroy me first."

It was a challenge.

Jinji bit her lip, muscles straining.

Your brother is already dead, the voice whispered, he would want you to do it.

But he wasn't dead. Just as the spirit dragon lived in her head, Janu was in there somewhere, and Jinji could not kill him. At least not yet. Not until she heard his voice, his true voice—full of kindness and joy. The voice that always made her laugh, always brought her so much joy. The voice that used to whisper with her in the darkness of their family tent, playing games, sharing secrets, telling stories, wondering what their futures would bring but never imagining this.

No.

Not yet.

Not unless he told her to.

"Well, this has been interesting, but—"

A roar cut the shadow off, stealing the words from his breath as the ground below them began to tremble, began to shake. Rage and fury fueled the sound, burning her skin as though the air were on fire.

Everything stopped.

Jinji stared at the shadow. He stared at her.

And then he ran, sprinting backward down the cavernous room, turning down an empty hall. Jinji chased after him, one thought filling her mind.

Rhen.

She didn’t know what or how, but she knew that Rhen was involved. Her fire spirit. Her prince. Her troublemaker.

The shadow didn't stop until his feet raced outside onto a wide balcony. Jinji followed, slamming into a stone rail, distracted by the view swelling in her eyes.

Flames.

Opposite them, high on a towering peak, orange and red glowed against the Gates, furiously sparking against the blue sky, brighter than the sun. There was no source, no clue as to how or why, but the mountain had caught fire.

A dragon has been awakened, the voice whispered, tone laced with glee, cheerful.

"Dragon?" she mouthed.

And then Jinji understood. It was what the phantom had been trying to tell them—the dragons were alive, they were just waiting—waiting for riders.

Rhen. The fire spirit had found his dragon. A fire dragon.

Were there others?

Three others?

A scream interrupted her thoughts, pulling Jinji back to the balcony, back to the shadow who had grabbed his head in frustration, turning on her with wide eyes. "One," he seethed, "you have one but you won't get the others."

And then he paused, taking a deep breath before curling his lips in a sinister smile. Taunting, daring her, he purred, “Watch after my body while I’m gone.” Then the shadow collapsed, body crumbling hard against the stone as his eyes slammed shut.

"Janu!" Jinji cried, dropping to the floor.

But her brother didn’t stir. His lids remained shut and his breathing slowed, steady as though in sleep. Jinji shifted his head onto her lap, brushing his bony cheeks with her fingers, relishing in the copper skin that melded together—the same color, the same blood.

Family.

She had family.

She wasn't alone.

Overwhelmed, Jinji closed her eyes, brushing her lips against his forehead, hating how dry and lifeless his skin felt. Coarse black hair slid between her fingers, longer than hers, bringing a slight grin to her lips.

Would he recognize her when he woke?

Would he think he looked into a mirror?

Gazing down, she saw the small differences, but Jinji had worn his face for so long that looking at Janu felt like looking at her own reflection. But they had both grown up, matured—she a woman, he a man—but so much more. After all he had been through, would he remember their family? Their people? Their bond?

Can you feel it? the voice asked.

Jinji didn't bother to glance up. Her eyes remained glued to Janu, and she wasn't sure if she would ever look away.

"Feel what?"

The dragon. Can you feel it burn your chest?

"I can." Jinji sighed, wanting to ignore the words, but at the same time unable to deny the sensation tickling her heart, the new awareness that part of her was alive somewhere else in the world. "Why can I?"

Because it is part of us, our powers brought to life. Fire. Earth. Water. Air. Four dragons, one for each element. Made to protect the world when I cannot, to keep my spirit realm safe when I am gone or when I cannot be everywhere at once.

"Why haven't I felt them before? Where are the others?"

Only the riders can bring them life. The fire dragon chose Rhen, so now they are as one—one mind, one body, one power. You must find other spirit humans and you must bring them here to undergo the trial. We must wake all four of the dragons before it is too late.

Suddenly everything clicked into place. Jinji gasped. "Is that why the shadow has been killing the spirit users? So we cannot wake the dragons?"

They are our only weapons against the souls he will bring through the ether, the only chance we have.

"I—"

But the moment her mouth opened, the body in her lap shifted, dragging her attention away. All thoughts of dragons, of shadows, of spirits, completely fled her mind. There was nothing but her brother, resting in her arms, miraculously brought back from the dead.

"Janu," she murmured. "Can you hear me?"

He stirred. But remained silent.

Jinji cupped his cheek, leaning over him. "Janu, come back to me."

The corners of his cheeks lifted and her heart soared. Did he recognize her voice? Did he know she was there? That she was watching over him? Or was it just the shadow, playing another cruel trick?

Jinji pushed the thought aside.

Nothing would destroy this moment.

She bit her lip, looking down, waiting. All the while memories flashed across her thoughts. Janu waking her in the middle of the night, holding her hand when she had a bad dream. Janu running through the forest, charging ahead as she rushed to keep up, laughter filling her ears. Janu holding her arms, shifting the bow in her hand, teaching her to fight in secret.

Her twin brother.

Her best friend.

Her other half.

Jinji squeezed his fingers. His callused hands closed around hers, holding tight. Then his eyes opened. Warm brown, the color of dirt glowing golden in the sun, laced with tree sap. Kind. Loving. Wet with unshed tears.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.

"Jinji?" his soft voice whispered, laced with disbelief, full of hope.

Elation seized her chest, bubbling hot. But at the same time her heart broke.

Janu was alive.

He was the shadow.

And she would never have the strength to kill him.

20

RHEN

~ THE GATES ~

The dragon landed, settling its wings, burrowing the fire back under its skin. For a moment, it looked at Rhen through the falling embers, questioning. And then slowly, the dragon extended its neck, placing its head right before Rhen's waist.

Grinning, Rhen extended his arm.

The moment his fingers touched the warm scales, a clamp closed around his chest, tight binds wrapped around his heart. Rhen wanted to step back, to step away, but he was frozen in place. Could not move. Could not run. And then the ropes gathering under his skin traveled up, clenching his brain until he believed his head might burst from the pressure. Heat coursed through his body, burning, painful. His vision flashed white. His lips opened in a scream but no sound came out.

As quick as it began, it was over.

Rhen stumbled, stepping back. A new awareness blossomed to life in the back of his mind, as though a piece of him had drifted free of his body and rested somewhere else. A new feeling pinched his heart, tightening his chest. A second heartbeat, slower than his, thrummed through his veins, liquid lava, on fire.

Rhen looked up.

The dragon sat on its hind legs, watching him, waiting.

Rhen stepped closer and the dragon shifted, lowering its wings, slithering as flat as it could go, offering its back. Rhen brushed its scales, pleasure gathering to life in the back of his mind, distant, as though the feeling were his and yet not.

Taking his time, Rhen climbed onto the base of the dragon's neck, finding a secure hold as the beast shifted below him, rising to a standing position. Rhen gripped the sharp rocks cascading down its scales, but they did not break his skin. Beneath his touch, they softened as though made for his palms to hold.

And then nothing.

They sat. Did not move, did not shift.

A lingering sense of impatience filtered across Rhen's thoughts, foreign and familiar. The beat drumming in his veins grew faster.

Curious, Rhen let a single thought fill his mind.

Fly.

Wings pumped beneath him as they surged up, quickly leaving the ground far below as air rushed all around him—air and fire. In seconds, they flew free of the stone room, breaking through the open roof and into the sky. Blue and orange filled Rhen's vision and he held on tight.

Nerves circulated with the growing height—nerves and excitement. And something else—a sense of stretching old muscles, of awakening from a long sleep, almost as though the dragon and he were one.

Left.

The dragon shifted below him, arching to the side in a wide swoop as the flames ran off his skin, brushing over Rhen in a warm blast before tumbling back into the sky.

Right.

They changed directions.

Down.

Wings flattened as they plummeted toward the sea, diving straight down, until at the last second Rhen commanded they soar up. Tail whipping the sea, water splashed across their bodies as the cloudless sky filled his vision.

Rhen's stomach flipped but laughter tore free of his lips. The dragon was him. He was the dragon. Somehow their minds were one, their bodies were one—almost as though Rhen had never been whole until this moment. He had always been missing something, had always felt out of place, alone. Not anymore.

There was only one thing left to do. Something he had ached for since youth, since the first time his pudgy fingers had sunk into a flame unscathed. A power that had always alluded him. A control.

Fire.

The dragon roared, deep and booming, and the air around him trembled with the sheer force of the sound. A blaze traveled beneath the scales, scorching Rhen's hands, until finally flames exploded into the sky, a river of heat. Though it came from the dragon's mouth, Rhen felt that fire in his heart, as though it tore free of his palms. And then he sucked it all from the sky, burrowing the heat beneath his muscles.

Finally, after pretending for so long, Rhen truly was a Lord of Fire.

He could create it.

He could smother it.

He could ride it.

Closing his eyes, at peace, Rhen let the hot wind lick his cheeks.

And then he opened them, turning his gaze south, mind and body focused on one thing—home. Rayfort. His family. His people. They were counting on him and for once, Rhen would not fail them.

But for a moment, Rhen looked back over his shoulders to the white mountains below. Drawn there. Not sure if he should leave.

Jin.

Rhen had yet to see her since he woke. Was she in danger? Was she hurt? Was she in trouble? But it was her choice not to wake him. To leave him. To exclude him. Where had she gone that she did not want him to follow?

Rhen's heart split down the middle, torn between the people he had abandoned and the woman who had abandoned him.

He wanted to land, to find her, to make sure she was safe. But at the same time, Rhen's thoughts drifted to the army of ships barreling down on his home. Were they there? Had the siege begun? Were his people already dying? His family? The baby?

Jinji was strong—stronger than him.

But his people, they were surrounded, waiting for a miracle.

Decision made, Rhen gritted his teeth and turned the dragon south, urging the beast to fly faster as he pushed thoughts of Jinji from his mind. Wherever she was, Rhen was sure she was safe, was sure he would feel it in his gut if she needed him. And he would return for her, would come find her after the war was over—after he ended it.

Water rushed below them, white caps flashing and disappearing beneath the turquoise waves. From so high, the sea stretched in all directions, ground shifting color depending on the depth of the floor so far below. Dark blue grew lighter, more aqua, clearer as the sand increased in elevation.

Rhen glued his eyes to the horizon, waiting, hoping.

A black line separated two shades of blue.

Land.

Faster.

His heart sank as the scene grew clearer and ships burst to life, gleaming gold at the front as metal glinted in the sun. Ash and rock exploded into the sky as they neared. The Ourthuri had Rayfort surrounded. Ship catapults centered on his home and buildings started to crumble with the onslaught. The white stone wall was becoming lost to the sea, broken in some parts. The guards looked small from this height as they raced to fight back, outnumbered and outmatched, unable to stop the chaos flying toward them.

Rhen remained in the clouds, circling the sky, surveying. On land, the traitors of Whylkin crept forward. Arrows blurred black across the green grass, flying toward his home, the barest hint of orange as fire laced the sky. Siege towers rolled over dirt, moving ever closer to the wall surrounding his home, not pausing despite the rocks being thrown by his guards on the wall.

And in the center of it all, the castle waited untouched.

But it was only a matter of time before the fighting reached those walls. Rayfort could withstand any attack from the land, but cornered on all sides, even his fortress of a city would fall. Already, the people raced through the streets, confused, cornered. If he listened close enough, through the booms, he could hear cries on the breeze, could smell blood, could taste their terror.

Anger fueling his actions, Rhen dove.

Bursting through the clouds, the dragon roared, shaking the rubble in the streets. For a moment, the entire city seemed to pause. No arrows. No catapults. No fights. Rhen felt a thousand eyes caress him, staring.

And then a cheer rose.

Shouts of joy.

Screams of excitement.

A new sensation filled his veins—hope, power.

Rhen circled the castle, surrounding it in flames, careful not to burn anything as he soared over his people, letting them know they were safe, that he had not forgotten them, that their Lord of Fire would not fail.

And then Rhen drifted wider.

Fast as lightning, he buried the harbor in flames. With enough heat, even metal burned. Beneath his wings, sails singed in seconds. Wooden decks scorched black under the fire. Ourthuri screamed, diving into the ocean, trying to escape a fire so hot that even water did not cool it. The surface of the sea grew orange as it blazed. An entire fleet was destroyed—as easy as breathing, as quick as blinking.

Rhen turned toward the land, to the men already running from the walls. The grass beneath him ignited as arrows burned to a crisp. Siege towers and catapults became dust in seconds.

And somewhere, his family watched on. His mother. His brother. His nephew. Somewhere they were praising his name, thanking him, eyes wide in disbelief, wet with tears of joy.

Pride surged in his chest, filling Rhen up. Overflowing into a wide grin across his cheeks. Screeching, Rhen landed on the tallest tower of the castle, stretching his wings wide, blowing a blanket of flames deep into the sky, claiming this city.

Everywhere he looked, there was fire. The sea was gone. The land was gone. The wall of Rayfort was now a glistening fire, an inferno protecting the city. Orange and red raged into the sky, billowing in the breeze.

"Lord of Fire!"

"Lord of Fire!"

The chants echoed across the sky. His people were calling his name, celebrating his victory, already turning him into a god.

Just as Rhen went to slip free of his seat, to leave his dragon and find his people, to join in the cheers, his stomach rolled. An invisible fist punched his gut, doubled him over until he collapsed against the scales beneath him, clinging to the dragon for strength as pain suffocated him.

The flames closed in.

The fire burned.

And suddenly, Rhen could feel his skin melting away, could feel it bubble and burst, could feel it take his life again and again.

But it wasn't his skin.

It was theirs.

Rhen opened his eyes, looking beyond the wall to the thousands of people dying in his fire, falling beneath his flames, scorching and burning. He could feel their pain, their terror, their fear. A new awareness blazed away every truth Rhen thought he knew.

Vomit filled his stomach, surged up his throat—bile.

Wrong.

This was all wrong.

But no, Rhen shook his head, the Ourthuri were the enemy. They were going to kill his people, his family. He had done the right thing.

No.

Rhen shook his head. Mind in turmoil. Body fighting against itself.

No.

He was supposed to help them all. Protect them all. Keep them safe.

His people. Those people. All people.

The dragon shifted below him, turned its head until Rhen met its eye—bright red. Steam sizzled from the surface of its skin, right at the corner of its lid, a small trail of smoke. Tears. Burned away before they even had the chance to form.

The dragon was crying.

Crying for all the souls Rhen had forced it to kill.

"I'm sorry," Rhen whispered, shaking his head.

What had he done?

What sort of monster had he become?

Without hesitation, Rhen pulled on the flames, tugging on the fire, urging it to obey and sink below his skin. The heat grew to an inferno. Rhen watched the orange flickering around him, glowing red and yellow, scattered with black shadows.

Rhen peered closer at the ebony flashes.

Narrowing his eyes.

Deep within the flames, a vision burned to life, searing his thoughts.

A memory flared, filling his veins with dread.

21

JINJI

~ THE GATES ~

"Jinji?" Janu repeated, awed, unsure if he could believe his own eyes.

She reached down, cupping his cheek, and whispered, "It's me. I'm here and I won't ever leave you again."

Janu paused, lip trembling, and then rose like an ocean wave, arms wrapping around her with his sudden burst of energy. And then he was shaking, hugging her close as tears fell free of his eyes. Jinji pulled her own arms tightly around his thin waist, hugging her brother to her chest, catching his cries with her body.

"I'm here," she said once more to make sure he believed it. Janu didn’t move, didn’t break. His head was tucked into the nook of her neck as his body fought the sobs racking his frame. Jinji remembered the nights he used to hold her like this, when the nightmares came and she could not sleep. Now they had changed places and Jinji wasn't sure if she could bear to learn what nightmares plagued his years, what the shadow had done to her twin, what his life had become.

You'll never kill him, the voice whispered—a statement, not a question.

Jinji didn’t respond. Just shook her head—no.

I feel your love and it's strong. Too strong for me to break. My shadow-self was right—I cannot control you and I never will. But eventually you will ask for my help.

Help.

A dangerous word. Help kill Janu? Help destroy the shadow?

Helpless was more like it.

Jinji was helpless, floating in a void, unsure of which direction to take, of how to move forward.

My shadow-self will bring armies of his souls to this world and just like before, they will kill anything and everything in their path. Are you prepared to watch the world fall apart around you?

Jinji shifted her gaze, to the fires disappearing on the mountaintop, to the blue skies, to the other peaks of the Gates, to the sea. But no matter where she looked, she could not escape the voice inside her own head.

There is no other way to banish my shadow-self from this world. No way but death. Do it now and there will be no suffering. Or give in, let me have control, and I will do it for you.

As much as she wanted to, Jinji could not relent, could not kill the man weeping in her arms, could not let the voice murder the brother cradled against her side. She held him closer, letting her own tears fall, dropping soundlessly to the stone floor below them.

Jinji glanced up, trying to dry out the water, but instead the liquid pooled stronger when her vision landed on a dragon flying free of the mountain.

Rhen.

Drenched in fire, Jinji still saw him, still recognized him on the dragon's back, just like the painting the phantom had showed them. They soared left, right, disappeared in a downward spiral, only to lift back into view in a trail of flames.

What will the fire user say when he watches his family die, his people die, when he realizes it's all your fault?

Her heart clenched.

Her breath grew uneven.

Shaking her head, Jinji shouted at the voice, He'll never know. I'll figure out a different solution.

The voice just laughed across her thoughts, foreboding, menacing. Oh, he will know. He'll sense the shadow, he'll feel the darkness, and eventually he will understand who your brother really is. And when he does, what then? Will you kill him to keep the shadow safe?

Jinji squeezed her eyes shut against the thought, not willing to think about it. There had to be a way to save them both, to save them all. There had to be something the voice never thought of, never tried. Jinji had come too far to give up now, to stop fighting for everyone she loved.

How far are you willing to go to save one human? How many will you sacrifice on his behalf?

That was enough—enough questioning, enough dark thoughts, enough despair. In the blink of an eye, Jinji wove a spirit thread down her back, a long cut that sent pain sizzling up her spine. Biting her lip to keep from crying out, from breaking this moment with Janu, she held in the moan.

But the trick worked.

The voice was gone for now. It would be back, of that Jinji was certain, but for a brief moment, she didn’t want to think. She wanted to hold her brother, to relish this happiness before the heavy weight of the world slammed back on her shoulders.

The body in her arms shifted too soon. Janu eased back, smiling with wet cheeks as his eyes roamed her face, drank her in.

"How…" He trailed off, lost for words, shaking his head. "How did you find me? After all these years?"

Jinji reached up, gripping the face looking down at her, wiping the water away. "It doesn't matter," she said, voice cracking. "All that matters is that we're together."

Jinji pulled her brother close, hugging him tight once more, not ready to let him go—unsure if she ever could.

Her eyes scanned the sky, finding the fire dragon, searching for the rider on its back. For a moment, Jinji swore Rhen was watching her, was looking back at the castle, wondering. But the moment passed, the dragon turned, disappearing into the distance, barely more than a speck in the sky.

Dread sank down her throat, hard, clogging her breath.

Rhen was flying away from her.

Was leaving her. Going to a place she could never follow.

Jinji watched him, eyes wide, stuck on the horizon long after the dragon had disappeared from sight. With Janu in her arms, she was not alone, but Jinji felt that way. Isolated. Abandoned. Cold.

Rhen was gone.

And the next time she saw him, everything would be different.

They were no longer a team. No longer a duo.

When Rhen came back, he would be her foe. Maybe not right away. But eventually, when he realized the truth, they would find themselves on opposite sides of the war.

Her limbs grew cold. Numb.

Janu turned his head, holding her tighter as though he sensed her grip had changed, had grown slack.

"I love you," he whispered.

Jinji closed her lids, finally saying goodbye to the sky, goodbye to the man who had come to mean everything to her. Evergreen eyes filled her mind—warm, inviting, home.

Her heart was torn, split in half, breaking down the middle. Jinji didn’t know if the words burning her lips were for Janu or for Rhen, but she said them anyway, praying the wind would decide and carry them to the right ears.

"I love you."

22

RHEN

~ RAYFORT ~

Rhen leapt into the sky as the vision faded.

The phantom—not one but thousands. Black mist, a cloud of death, raging across the countryside, swallowing armies whole, leaving only destruction in its wake. The dragon had spoken to Rhen in the only way it could, flashing a piece of history into his mind, showing him one of its memories. But Rhen knew it was more than that—more than the past.

It was the future.

The shadow.

A war unlike any he had ever seen was about to begin—a war against ghosts, against armies unseen, against an enemy he didn't know how to fight.

Rhen glanced below. The fires surrounding Rayfort were gone, pulled beneath his skin. Humans were burned, dead from his flames. But some lived, some still fought for life. And he would need them, all of them, to beat what was coming.

Because it was bigger than Whylkin.

Bigger than Ourthuro.

Bigger than human battles and human wars.

Looking down across the land—the grass burnt clean away, the sea scorched black, the white stone tainted with ebony slashes—Rhen promised himself, his dragon, that such human destruction would never happen again, not at his hands, not under their flames. Their powers would be used only how they were meant to be used—to keep humans alive, all humans, any humans who might need them, no matter their birthplace or loyalty. To protect anyone who might need shielding.

From this day forward, the shadow and its soldiers were the only enemies he would fight—the only things he would kill. Rhen was no longer a prince. No longer a lord of anything. No longer a son of anyone.

Out of the ashes of his city, Rhen rose, a rider on his dragon.

A phoenix born new to the world.

###

Don't miss

THE

PHOENIX

BORN

A Dance of Dragons #3

Coming in 2015!

Sign up at the below link to be notified the morning it goes on-sale!

TinyLetter.com/KaitlynDavisBooks

Want more A Dance of Dragons?

Don’t miss the novellas, following the story of the mysterious Princess Leenaka!

The first one is free!

From bestselling author Kaitlyn Davis comes a fantasy adventure perfect for fans of Throne of Glass, Graceling, and Game of Thrones.

In the land of Ourthuro, cruelty is a way of life. The king rules with an iron fist and no one dare defy him—no one except his daughter. Princess Leena is keeping a dangerous secret, she has fallen in love with a soldier and it would mean both of their lives if her father ever discovered their affair.

But Leena will risk it all to be with the man she loves—her heart, her life, her freedom. And when her brother's birthday celebration takes a dangerous turn, Leena is forced to make a decision that will change the fate of her nation and eventually the world.

Want more from Kaitlyn?

The Complete Midnight Fire Series is available now wherever eBooks are sold!

From bestselling author Kaitlyn Davis comes a paranormal romance perfect for fans of Twilight, The Vampire Diaries, and Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

Kira Dawson has the power to burn vampires to a crisp. The problem is, she doesn't know it yet. The even bigger problem is, she's dating one.

When Kira Dawson moves to South Carolina, she meets Luke, a blond goofball who quickly becomes her best friend, and Tristan, a mysterious bad boy who sends shivers down her spine. Kira knows they're keeping secrets, but when she discovers Tristan's lust for blood and her own dormant mystical powers, Kira is forced to fight for her life and make the heartbreaking decision between the familiar comfort of friendship and the fiery passion of love.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kaitlyn Davis graduated Phi Beta Kappa from Johns Hopkins University with a B.A. in Writing Seminars. She's been writing ever since she picked up her first crayon and is overjoyed to share her work with the world. She currently lives in New York City and dreams of having a puppy of her own.

Connect with the Author Online:

Website:

KaitlynDavisBooks.com

Facebook:

Facebook.com/KaitlynDavisBooks

Twitter:

@DavisKaitlyn

Tumblr:

KaitlynDavisBooks.tumblr.com

Wattpad:

Wattpad.com/KaitlynDavisBooks

Goodreads:

Goodreads.com/author/show/5276341.Kaitlyn_Davis

Table of Contents

- All Works by Kaitlyn Davis
- Dedication
- Table of Contents
- World Map
- 1. Jinji ~ Rayfort
- 2. Rhen ~ Rayfort
- 3. Jinji ~ Rayfort
- 4. Rhen ~ Rayfort
- 5. Jinji ~ Rayfort
- 6. Rhen ~ Rayfort
- 7. Jinji ~ Rayfort
- 8. Rhen ~ Rayfort
- 9. Jinji ~ Rayfort
- 10. Rhen ~ Rayfort
- 11. Jinji ~ White Stone Sea
- 12. Rhen ~ Hills of Airedale
- 13. Jinji ~ Hills of Airedale
- 14. Rhen ~ Hills of Airedale
- 15. Jinji ~ The Straits
- 16. Rhen ~ The Straits
- 17. Jinji ~ White Stone Sea
- 18. Rhen ~ The Gates
- 19. Jinji ~ The Gates
- 20. Rhen ~ The Gates
- 21. Jinji ~ The Gates
- 22. Rhen ~ Rayfort
- The Phoenix Born
- The A Dance of Dragons Novellas
- The Complete Midnight Fire Series
- About the Author