"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 st
op 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.
Jin
ji 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.
The Spirit Heir (Book 2) Page 4