"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."
The Spirit Heir (Book 2) Page 12