by W. J. May
"I found my ship." He smiled, obviously proud of himself. "We leave tomorrow."
"And until then?" She asked, anxiety leaking into her chest.
Rhen winked. "Follow me."
Jinji paid little attention to her surroundings as she followed Rhen down the docks and back to the street. The mud was squishy and wet beneath her feet. Her mind was still on what she had just overheard, wondering if the deaths could somehow be connected—if her shadow was after more than what it had already taken, after more than just her ruin.
She might be closer to answers than she ever realized.
If only she could talk to more people, learn more about these deaths.
But—she looked down at her clothes, at her skin—she was nothing more than something to gawk at to these people. A walking myth. Something to stare at, not talk to.
Looking to the side, she eyed Rhen's profile. His straight, sharp nose. His pearly flesh freckled and kissed only minutely by the sun. His red hair, gleaming brighter against the stone around them. He stood out too, but not nearly as much. And he was powerful amongst these people—it radiated off him. If she asked him for answers, he would find them. It was only a matter of opening up and telling him what she searched for.
But her lips tightened, unsure, holding back.
Now was not the time.
And Jinji wasn't sure when or if she would ever be able to talk about what had happened, with anyone, anywhere.
He met her stare, green eyes sparkling like the surface of the water she had just been studying.
"We're here." He grinned. Her lips tugged wide, a natural reaction to his overflowing glee.
And then she looked above, at the sign hanging overhead. She couldn’t read it, but somehow she knew what it said.
The Staggering Vixen.
Her gut dropped to the floor, the word whore fluttering back to the forefront of her mind.
Rhen tied Ember to a post, flicking a coin into the hands of a skinny boy waiting by the door, who immediately ran inside and emerged seconds later with a bucket of water to place by her hooves. Ember sunk down, licking greedily, and Rhen pushed open the door, letting Jinji enter first.
Holding her breath, she passed him, resisting the urge to close her eyes and walk forward blindly.
But oh, how she wished she had.
As soon as she had crossed the threshold, Jinji was grabbed into an embrace, her face thrust into the largest breasts she had ever seen, while a woman cried out, "What a darling you are!"
Jinji pushed away, careening back and out, immediately crossing her arms over her considerably smaller chest to keep them flattened and contained, as if the mere proximity to the busty women around her would somehow spurn them into growth.
"Martha!" Rhen called behind her, slapping Jinji forward and farther into the room. "An ale for my young friend. And two for me!"
Jinji groaned inwardly as his laughter rang in her ears, loud once more.
––––––––
6
Rhen
Roninhythe
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Priceless.
That was the only way to describe Jin's face when they walked in, Martha doing exactly what Rhen had expected of her. She couldn’t resist goading a young boy on, couldn't resist the attention.
As another chuckle poured from his lips at the mere memory, Rhen wished he could relive the scene again—just once—maybe twice.
But, he remembered, looking at Jin in the center of the tavern, arms still crossed awkwardly over his chest, face still glowing red—there was more fun to be had.
"Sit down," he announced loudly, starting to play up the role of the womanizing prince—his usual fallback, especially in this tavern.
Jin looked at him with utter confusion, so taking charge, Rhen pushed him over toward a booth where the boy sat down stiffly, still not uncrossing his arms.
"Relax, Jin, these women aren't here to bite," Rhen said, slightly caring and slightly goading. The boy's eyes sparked, almost taking him up on the challenge, but then softened.
Breasts interrupted Rhen's eyesight, filling his vision. Good old Martha, he thought, always putting the goods on display. She was older than most of the women in the tavern, but she made up for it by pulling her corset the lowest and proudly displaying her ample bosom.
"Maybe he's never kissed a girl," she said, her voice high pitched and airy, at least until she had a few ales in her and then it would drop a few octaves, the ladylike persona gone. Rhen had even heard her belch before, alongside the men, no shame—just the way he liked a girl. Unafraid. Real.
Thinking of ale, Rhen reached out, grasping his cup and taking a long, full gulp. Damn, it tasted good. He'd been far too long in the forest.
"Cheers," he said, lifting the cup. Jin paused for a moment, unsure, then followed suit, clanking his glass against Rhen's. He took a sip, winced, and then grinned. "Be careful," Rhen warned, "if you're not used to it, that drink will go right to your head." Jin would most assuredly be an entertaining drunk, but Rhen needed a few things to look forward to on the journey ahead.
Jin nodded, eyes bulging as Martha came back boasting a cup of her own and sat next to him on the booth. Rhen picked his ale up, hiding his smile behind a large gulp.
"Have you? Kissed a girl?" Martha asked, leaning forward and closer.
Rhen watched a blush creep up Jin's dark cheeks, turning his skin a rosy copper as his gaze flashed back and forth between the view before his eyes and the foamy rim of his glass.
Jin just shook his head.
Rhen paused—he could intervene, save the boy—but why?
Martha pressed forward, figuratively and literally, asking, "You've never had a sweetheart?"
Another shake, but this time a shadow fell over Jin's eyes, a darkness crept into his expression. The blush was pushed aside by an ashen hue and his eyes fell to his cup, not looking anywhere else in the room.
Rhen's brows closed together as worry clenched his heart. If Jin had a sweetheart, she was dead now, along with the rest of his people. A memory was playing in the boy's head, flashing behind eyes that had grown distant, and Rhen couldn’t help but feel sorry, feel hurt himself watching the pain pierce his new friend's entire being.
Just as he was about to speak up, about to intervene, another voice entered the conversation, and Rhen turned just in time to open his arms for the female that landed in his lap.
"Who's never had a sweetheart?"
"Reana," he said, remembering her name and nodding his head in greeting. She was new; a petite blond Martha had recently found and pulled from the streets. He saw her not two weeks ago when he first arrived in Roninhythe, and already he noticed the change. Her clothes were tighter, her cheeks had been rouged, her appearance fake like the others. But still, it felt nice to have a warm body on his lap, a skinny waist to wrap his arm around, even if just for a few hours.
"Surely not our Prince Whylrhen," she cooed, leaning in closer to his body, not providing quite the same view as Martha. "That poor innkeeper's daughter. Her reputation will never be the same. We heard her father tried to chase you from the city!" She drew a hand flat against her chest in mock distress. Rhen saw Martha's eyes narrow, annoyed that she was no longer the main attraction. "Is that why you came to the Staggering Vixen, instead of the castle?"
Rhen laughed loudly, adding, "Now why would I go to the castle when I have everything I need right here?" He lifted his glass and gripped her waist tighter, earning a soft giggle as she snuggled closer to his body.
Martha jumped in, bringing Jin back into the center of conversation, but Rhen's mind wandered elsewhere. Cal better have dropped off the gold, he thought, making a note to bring it up when he saw him later. He hoped the poor girl wasn't ruined for life. He had needed a reason to leave the city, a reason to move so suddenly and so urgently, but the last thing he wanted...
Ugh, he sighed, leaning back in the wooden booth. According to the rumors, he had ruined
many a girl along the path of the Great Road. If he even spoke to a woman, the gossip began and a mere conversation would be turned into an affair before the sun fell. It was one reason Cal kept his very proper sister very far away from Rhen.
But there was no better way to sneak around castles and the town at night, no better cover than the story other people would create. If he was caught wandering the streets, it was brushed off as Rhen going after another conquest—not Rhen, looking for information, spying on other lords, working under the cover of darkness. That was a weapon he couldn't afford to lose.
And he knew it.
It was also a weapon he would deploy tonight, he knew, hugging Reana closer to his body, feeling her limbs buzz with excitement as she cast a sidelong glance in his direction, a coy smile plastered on her lips.
He'd chosen her.
Just not for the reason she thought.
The noise around them had grown, Rhen realized, casting a glance around the filling tavern. Night must have fallen. The more stars in the sky, the more men in the tavern—it was just how these things worked. More girls had come out of the woodwork, serving drinks and providing some much needed companionship.
He looked to Jin, whose face was brighter, full of life and laughter. What conversation had he missed while his mind wandered?
Tuning back in, Rhen caught the word snore roll from Martha's lips as she clasped a hand over her mirthful mouth.
"Snore?" Rhen echoed, rejoining his group, but all three of his companions burst into fits of laughter, leaving him the odd one out once again. "What?" he asked, looking at each of their faces, but none of them could pause long enough to breathe let alone clue him in.
"I must say," Reana finally spoke, sputtering between gasping breaths, "I've heard many rumors about what our prince can do in the bedroom, but that was never one of them!"
Rhen's eyes widened, turning on Jin in surprise. That rascal! The boy looked quite proud of himself, and the smirk playing on his lips spoke of payback.
Of course, the fact that Rhen probably deserved a little payback was of no consequence. A rumor like that could ruin his reputation, the reputation he had spent a lifetime building, the cover he needed to continue his work uncovering other people's secrets.
Rhen reached for his ale, downing the rest of his second glass in one large swig. He knew just what to do.
"You want to know if the rumors are true, do you?" He asked, a blush now rolling up Reana's pearly white cheeks, mixing with her rouge.
She smiled, bit her lip, and nodded just ever so slightly, curiosity lighting her gaze.
"Then, my lady, I'm more than happy to oblige," he said, smirking, and in one motion he stood, throwing the weight of Reana's petite body over his shoulder. She laughed and screamed playfully, thumping at his back with her delicate fists. The rest of the tavern turned at the commotion, and the men erupted into drunken cheers, most only just realizing they were in the midst of a prince of the realm.
His plan was working perfectly.
"Martha, you'll take care of Jin, won't you? Make sure he finds a place to sleep," he asked, then added, "alone?" Jin was not ready for a night with Martha, of that Rhen was completely certain. And the boy had been through more than enough for one day.
"Of course, your Highness," she said, using his formal title, sealing the deal with a nod. She understood that the command was not a jest—Jin would have a place to sleep uninterrupted by the unfamiliar city he'd been forced into.
For good measure, Rhen flipped a gold coin from his pocket and into her palm. Her eyes brightened, and she stuffed the money between her breasts.
He shook his head. The greedy woman—if only all people were so honest.
"Barkeep?" He yelled aimlessly across the room, pretending to be drunker than he was.
"Yes, sir?" A meek voice called back from somewhere in the crowd.
"Two glasses and your best house wine delivered to the usual room," he shifted Reana on his shoulder, earning another shriek. As always, he felt more like an actor on a stage than a real man, but it was necessary.
"Yes, sir," the voice responded, firmer this time.
And then Rhen turned, climbing the stairs at the back of the tavern while catcalls still rang in his ears. He walked sturdily down the hall to the last room on the right, the largest room, and also one of the few rooms with a window.
As soon as they entered, he tossed Reana onto the bed, still playing his role.
Moments later, a young boy, the tavern owner's son, ran into the room, gently placing a tray with two glasses and a jug of wine onto the table. He bowed once before closing the door behind him.
Rhen grabbed one of the glasses, turning his back on Reana while he poured the drinks. He heard her moving on the bed, probably rearranging herself into a more graceful position than the one he had dropped her in. Out of eyesight, he pulled a small vile from his pocket, untwisting the lid and slipping a few drops of a sleeping solution made by the palace apothecary into the second glass, before filling it with wine as well.
He spun around slowly, meeting her eyes with a hungry stare, watching as hers sparked to match it.
But unlike her, Rhen was pretending. There was no heat stirring in his veins, no passion building in his chest. This was business.
He settled on the bed, handing her the laced wine and holding his own aloft. "Cheers," he said, and clinked her glass, trying to embolden his expression before downing the wine in one sip.
As he expected, she followed suit, taking two large sips to finish her drink.
In a few moments it would be done. But, Rhen mentally shrugged, he did have to give her something to dream about.
And there was no harm in one kiss.
Propping himself up on the bed, Rhen leaned over her, pressing Reana's body into the bed below them, loving the way her feminine curves cushioned his weight. He let their breaths mingle, let the stars in her eyes continue to dance, faster and faster. After a moment of hesitation, of letting her electric excitement build, he touched his lips to hers. A contented sigh swelled in his ears.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him closer, surprising him with her passion, and throwing him off balance. But just as Rhen reached to steady himself, her limbs fell free of their hold, landing with an oomph on the mattress.
Wriggling from her embrace, Rhen stood.
Another conquest down, he grinned, staring at the spread eagle limbs before him. With a laugh, he repositioned her legs, dragging her left side back over to her right, hoping her sleep was full of the wonderful dreams the apothecary assured Rhen the potion created. And it must do the trick, because there were women all over the kingdom convinced they had shared a night of passion with the prince, when in reality, Rhen was the best chastity belt a worried father could buy.
He shrugged and walked back to the table, downing one more glass of wine before turning his attention to the window.
It was time to see Cal.
It was time to get a message to the king.
Unlike most taverns in Roninhythe, the Staggering Vixen was three stories tall, a long way to carry a woman, but high enough that he could jump onto the next-door roof—a roof that just happened to sit next to the backside of the castle, directly under Cal's bedroom window.
Opening the glass slowly, Rhen let the wind whip his face, let the salty smell ensnare his senses, and then he crouched onto the pane, balancing there. Slowly, he reached up for the loose brick above the window. A few tugs and it slipped into his hand.
A rope fell before his eyes. Rhen smiled and pulled the rest of it free before returning the brick and jumping a few feet down onto the roof below him.
He coiled the rope in his hand, feeling the points of the claw knotted tightly to the end. The metal was a little worse for wear, but it would do—as long as Cal had gotten word and had cleared the guards from the wall.
Rhen looked up.
No movement.
The castle was divided into two levels,
a wide base with platforms and walkways built for war, and a second narrower level where the family lived. As long as the first level was clear, no questions would be asked.
And if there were questions, well, he was the prince—he'd think of something.
Taking a deep breath, Rhen counted to three.
One.
Two.
On three, he tossed the rope high up, aiming for an arrowslit in the wall.
Bull's-eye.
The sound of metal on stone rang in his ears, just loud enough to float on the wind but not so much that it was alarming.
Waiting a moment, Rhen watched the edge of the wall, searching for a moving helmet or the swing of an arm.
All was clear.
He grinned.
With one sturdy tug on the rope, it was time to climb.
And climb.
And climb.
No matter how many times he made the long trek to the top, his arms always burned, his legs felt on fire. And it was no different this time, as he slipped his hands over the top stones and pulled himself fully onto castle grounds.
"Took you long enough, Prince Whylrhen," a voice said.
"Cal!" Rhen turned, greeting his sullen friend with a wide smirk. Oh Cal. He was still dressed in court wear, a formal jewel-studded jacket with his best leather pants and boots. Sword still at his waist. His brown hair was tied back into the nape of his neck, and his brown eyes were glowing with worry as they darted wildly around his surroundings. The only still parts of his body were the arms crossed grumpily across his chest.
Always adherent to the rules, Cal motioned for Rhen to follow and harshly whispered, "Come on, the guards will be back any minute. There are only so many emergencies I could think of to drag them away."
"Did you set a pig loose in your father's room?"
Cal rolled his eyes and stepped through a narrow door in the stone, tired of Rhen's jokes already. Little did he know that suggestion was serious—a dirty pig running around the lord's bedchambers, a lord as pristine and proper as his son? The entire castle would be in an uproar.