"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 s
hock 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.
The Spirit Heir (Book 2) Page 9