The Spirit Heir (Book 2)

by Kaitlyn Davis

  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 ad
miral 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 inf
ection. 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.