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 cre
ate 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.
The Spirit Heir (Book 2) Page 8