Jinji's chest filled with warmth as she settled into her seat, weaving a few trays of food into the space between them. They spent the rest of the night sharing stories. Jinji told Janu of her time on the ship, of the crow's nest, and the battle on the open water. He told her about learning to cook, to carve sculptures into wood, to read. She regaled him with her tale of sneaking into Da'astiku and meeting Leena for the first time, of her and Rhen's epic escape. He told her of the garden he tended at the top of the Gates, of the many sunsets that had taken his breath away, of the adventures he read about in the pages of his books. They fell asleep midconversation, nodding off at the same time, unable to hold out any longer.
When Jinji woke the next morning, her head pounded.
Her eyes were bleary with exhaustion.
Her throat was sore and scratchy.
And she told herself that it was the long night spent with Janu, the hours talking. She gazed around the cave, searching for clues, for any differences in her surroundings. But candles still spotted the floor. The space was still dark and holed away from the rest of the world. Not even a pebble seemed out of place. And she and Janu were in the exact same spots where they had fallen asleep.
"Breakfast?" Janu asked, voice sluggish.
Jinji nodded, weaving plates of food at their feet.
Janu grinned, rubbing his eyes, happy for once. "I think I can get used to your magic. At first, it was so strange to see you so different than I remembered. But it's growing on me."
Jinji shoved him, digging into her food.
But despite the jovial mood, she couldn't dislodge the anxious feeling tugging at the back of her mind. The sense that she had forgotten something important. That something else had happened in the night—something she couldn't quite remember.
16
RHEN
~ RONINHYTHE ~
As Rhen watched the sun set, he couldn't help but realize it had been more than two full days since he had seen Jinji, more than two full days since she had locked herself in that hole in the ground with Janu.
Time.
The only explanation she had given him. And she'd meant it. But time felt like distance to him—the longer they were apart, the farther and farther away she started to feel. Especially when all he really wanted to do was hold her in his arms and forget the world for a little while.
Instead, he found himself curled into Firestorm's side as the dragon slumbered, blowing tiny flames from his nostrils as he snored. It was slightly scary how much the two of them had in common. The snoring part, not the flame part. If Ember were here, she would be snorting at the two of them, pawing the ground in disgust, waving her elegant tail in their direction. Though he loved flying, he missed his horse and the certain spice she brought to his life—spice that would be at full heat when he eventually returned home. A whole bag of apples might not be enough to get back into her good graces.
Laughter filtered into his ears, and Rhen looked over his shoulder to see Jasper and Bran playing games in the sand. The four riders had made camp on a nearby beach, keeping an eye on the ravine but doing their best to give Jinji what she'd asked for—time. The two boys were crouched over a circle of pebbles, tossing rocks at targets. Every so often, an unnatural wind would blow by, and then the ground would tremble. A clear sign that Jasper was cheating, and Bran was trying to make him honest. Rhen grinned, shaking his head.
Firestorm shifted behind him, shoving Rhen into the sand.
"Hey," he chided, but then he followed the dragon's gaze, spotting a splash on the horizon. The water dragon broke free of a wave, emerging from the depths of the ocean with Leena crouched against her back.
Rhen watched them approach, noting how the dragon's skin had changed color to match the darkening sea as the fading sun turned the sky to a soft indigo. They came to a stop by Rhen's side, and Leena slid from her dragon's back, gracefully taking the open spot beside him on the sand.
"Why do you insist on swimming when you can fly?" Rhen asked, gazing at her from the corner of his eye.
Leena grinned, gripping her long ebony hair and twisting the water from the soaking strands. Her skin glistened with droplets that sparkled as the moon began to reveal itself. "If you knew what it felt like to soar beneath the sea, Son of Whyl, you would too."
Rhen shuddered. "Fire and water weren't made to mix."
The princess nudged him. "We do all right."
Rhen's lips widened, and he released a soft laugh, letting some tension ease from his body. He'd come to realize the princess was far less stiff than she'd first seemed when he formally met her in Rayfort. When the opportunity allowed, she was fun, adventurous. It was just that recently those opportunities had been few and far between. Rhen sighed, watching Firestorm and Leena's dragon Tempest take flight together, nipping at each other's tails in play. He leaned back on the sand, cupping his head in his hands. Though he searched the sky for stars, he couldn't help but smile when flames and snow filled his vision instead.
"Did you find Cal?" he asked.
Leena gripped a handful of sand between her fingers, and then released it slowly, watching it fall back to the beach. "No."
"He wasn't in Roninhythe?"
She shook her head. "No one has seen him or his father in weeks. Wherever the Lord of Roninhythe is hiding, it's not in his home."
"Cal will find him," Rhen assured.
Leena nodded absently. "I know. I'm worried what will happen when he does. I didn't know him for long, but he seems like a gentle soul, a kind soul. I would hate for that to change."
"Time makes us all tougher." Rhen shook his head, pursing his lips. "But Cal has always been driven by his sense of what is right and what is wrong. His moral code is stronger than anyone else's that I've ever known. He understands that what his father did was wrong and that it cost innocent lives. He'll do what he must. He won't let this change him."
Leena's eyes shifted, turning down at the edges as her gaze pierced the horizon. "I sympathize with his plight." And then she twitched, breaking her focus to fall back against the beach. The sand stuck to her skin, speckling her olive, tattooed arms. "Has there been any sign of Jinji while I was away?"
Rhen sighed, rubbing his hands over his face and breathing deeply. "No."
"She too will do what she must," Leena said. "Eventually."
They fell into a peaceful silence after that. Rhen listened to the waves crash against the shore, heard the tide roll in and out, and let the sound calm him. Bran and Jasper later pulled the two of them from their seclusion, enlisting them to play another game, refusing to allow Leena and Rhen to do what the two of them did best—ruminate. The dragons circled, watching from above. When an odd breeze rolled through every now and again, Rhen instructed Firestorm to blow a flame in the air dragon's face. And when the dragons grew bored of watching their riders play, they swooped down and roughed up the sand. After that, there was nothing left to do but fly.
Many hours later, after sleep had claimed them all, Rhen woke to the pressure of a finger against his lips. He opened his eyes, unsure if he was dreaming or awake.
"Jin?" he murmured against her skin.
But she shook her head, not responding and signaling quiet. Then she motioned for him to follow her as she crept away from the others, away from the circle of light the campfire created, and into the night.
The farther they walked, the more Rhen tried to fight the tingle down his spine, warning that something was wrong. That Jinji was wrong. Her hips swayed seductively with each slow step. She cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure he followed, but her eyes were dark and dangerous, not sparkling with gold. Her shoulders were pulled back, her posture was strong and domineering—unusual for the woman who, Rhen knew, always tried to make her small frame even less imposing, who tried to fade.
He shook his head.
I'm just tired, he reasoned.
But when they stopped at the other end of the beach, skin silvery from the light of the moon, Rhen still couldn
't shake it. Jinji pulled him close, running a finger from his navel to his nose, drinking him in. Her hands caressed his cheeks, slipping to his neck, gripping his hair. Then she tugged him down, hard, commanding, and pressed against him for a kiss.
Rhen wasn't complaining.
Well, his body certainly wasn't complaining.
But though he longed to give in to whatever mood had taken over the woman he loved, he just couldn't. Because he knew that whenever she acted out of character, it stemmed from something deeper, from worry or stress or fear. And though Rhen wanted her, he didn't want her like that.
"Jin," he murmured, trying to pull away.
But she wouldn't listen. Her lips tasted familiar yet foreign.
"Jin," he said softly again, insistently—a voice that normally made her pause, made her listen. But Jinji was unaffected.
Immediately, Rhen tensed.
Gentle but firm, he pushed Jinji away, holding her at a distance. He narrowed his eyes, peering deep into hers and was unable to recognize them. "Who are you?"
Jinji smirked, raising one brow. "Can't you guess?"
Rhen tightened his grip. Though the sound came through Jinji's lips, the voice was unrecognizable. This was the spirit—the soul sharing Jinji's body. It had to be. "What did you do?"
She didn't respond.
Rhen shook her furiously. "Let her go!"
Immediately, vines erupted from the sand, twisting around his ankles, up his legs, wrapping around his torso. Rhen tried to move, but he was trapped. The ivy tightened, suffocating. New coils roped around his arms, pulling them against his side. Rhen clenched his biceps, trying to fight, but it was useless. The plant stopped around his throat, leaving him just enough space to breathe and keeping his face untouched.
"You do not give orders to me," the spirit said and stepped closer, ignoring Rhen's struggles. Her palms cupped his cheeks, and she gazed into his eyes, lovingly running her thumb across his lower lip. She sighed. "You remind me so much of him."
"Of who?"
She dropped his cheeks as though they were on fire, stepping back. "No one."
"What do you want?" he growled. But in his mind he spoke different words. Jin! he shouted into the void, trying to find her, trying to find the mental connection the dragons had created between them. Jin!
"She can't hear you," the spirit said, fully aware of his actions. "She's asleep."
"For how long?" Rhen asked.
The spirit glared at him, flaring her nostrils. "The usual amount, a few more hours. I'm not strong enough to control her while she's awake, not yet. So we have limited time and much to discuss."
Rhen shook his head. "I have nothing to discuss with you."
The vines tightened around his throat.
"There is no need to be rude," the spirit accused. "We both want the same thing. To send my shadow-self back to his world, to rid him from my realm. And we both know your precious Jinji won't do it, no matter how hard she tries."
Rhen licked his lips, remaining silent.
She was right. He knew it. And she knew it too.
Unfortunately.
"I see everything Jinji sees," the spirit continued. "And I saw your face when she left you, dropping down by the body of her mangled brother. I saw the expression in your eyes the moment before she sealed you out. And I knew you understood. Jinji will never end his life. But if you help me, I can."
In a flash, the ivy holding him disappeared. Rhen stumbled over the sand, searching for his balance. The spirit turned away, focusing on the spot to their side. Instantly, a table and two chairs appeared, along with food and Rhen's favorite thing—ale. She sat down, motioning for him to follow. And though it felt as though he were being disloyal, he did.
Rhen grabbed a pint, taking a deep sip as his mind wandered back. The spirit was right. He could picture Jinji at the bottom of the ravine, crouching over her brother protectively and staring up at him with a challenging glint in her eye.
Time.
There was no time. There would never be enough time. It was just an excuse.
Jinji could lie to herself but not to him. He'd seen it in her stance, and he'd heard it in her plea. She would never hurt Janu even if she promised otherwise.
"I'm listening," Rhen whispered, forcing the words through his lips.
The spirit smiled. "I thought you might."
Nausea sprouted in his gut. The kind he couldn't drink away. He shuddered, unable to fight the pain. Just having this conversation was a betrayal. Even listening to the spirit for a moment felt like infidelity, felt wrong. When he looked at the spirit, though she was so different from Jinji, he was reminded of his love—reminded that she was trapped somewhere within her own body, without control, at the mercy of a god Rhen didn't trust or understand.
The spirit noticed, narrowing her eyes. A moment later, the air before her face shimmered. She ran her hands through her hair, and it grew long, changing to the color of straw. Her face shifted before his eyes, chin lengthening, cheeks brightening, eyes turning to blue. Even her body transformed, becoming taller, curvier. No longer Jinji but a stranger.
"Perhaps it will be easier for you to speak like this," she said.
Rhen swallowed. The woman he loved was gone. And though it was simpler to speak to the spirit like this, as though she were a different person, a thought broke his heart.
At this very moment, Jinji didn’t exist in the world.
Not even her body.
Nothing.
"No," he said quickly, voice strangled. "I'd rather look at her, even if I can't speak to her. I'd rather be near her."
The illusion faded. "Very well."
The sight of Jinji's face calmed him, gave him strength. The elegant angle of her eyes. The fullness of her lips. The defined curve of her cheeks. All of it reminded Rhen what he was fighting for—the world, yes, but also to save Jinji from having to make a choice that would break her. He would rather she hate him than hate herself.
"What do you need me to do?" Rhen asked, voice a little sturdier than before, a little more assured.
"My shadow-self and I have come to an arrangement," she said. "You—"
"What arrangement?" Rhen interrupted.
She pursed her lips, eyeing him with frustration. "You don't need to be concerned with that. The deal will move forward whether you approve of it or not."
Rhen leaned back, smirking and taking a long sip of ale. "You've come out of your way to wake me in the middle of the night, to lead me here alone, to convince me to come to your side. You need me more than I need you. Clearly, this arrangement won't move forward without my help. But I've made plans of my own, plans that you aren't involved in, and I can move forward with them should I please." Rhen paused, letting his words sink in. He didn't have other plans, not really. He had visions of burning the shadow to a crisp, but that was little more than a dream. Still, the spirit didn't need to know that. "Tell me the truth. What is the deal?"
Her nostrils flared again, and she scowled. But then she blinked, clearing her face of all emotion, all expression. "Your precious Jinji has made a deal with my shadow-self to keep Janu alive. You need me more than you might think."
Rhen inhaled sharply.
Jinji made a deal with the shadow? Jinji was siding with the shadow?
He shook his head, bringing his brows together, unable to hide his confused reaction. How could she do that? How could she trust a murderer more than she trusted him? How could she choose the side of a killer? How could she doom the world to that fate?
"Yes, that's right," the spirit continued, twisting the knife a little deeper, making it hurt. "Jinji has already betrayed you all. If you don't help me, she will let the world perish. Do you love her enough to watch everyone else you care for die? Your brother? Your little nephew? The other riders? The fire dragon? Are they enough to convince you?"
"Stop," Rhen said darkly through gritted teeth. He didn't want to believe the spirit, and yet something in his gut told him that h
er words were true. The image of Jinji looking up at him, whispering the word time, came to the forefront of his thoughts, flashing across his mind once more. Jinji would agree to anything to keep Janu alive—even a deal with the shadow.
"My shadow-self and I have come to an arrangement," the spirit repeated forcefully. "Rest assured it will send him from this earth, and he will not return. Not ever. I have given into his demands. He will have no reason to haunt my realm any longer. But the only way to finalize this bargain is to put a knife through his heart myself."
"To kill Janu?"
"That is the only way to send my shadow-self back to his world. And once he is there, I will follow."
Rhen licked his lips, thinking. An uneasy feeling settled over his limbs—mistrust. "And what will happen to Jinji? How do I know you will not do the same to her once he is gone? How will you hold up your end of the deal?"
"She will be safe," the spirit said, shrugging, unconcerned. "Death is the only way to send my shadow-self from this realm because he is death. But I am life and this is my spirit world, and I can come and go as I please."
The explanation did not satisfy Rhen. "I want your promise that Jinji will not be harmed."
"I promise," the spirit said, not pausing. But it slid almost too easily off her tongue. Before Rhen could interject, she continued, shifting in her seat and folding her hands in her lap. "Now that brings us to you."
The food on the table between them disappeared. The ale, the plates, the cups, everything. And in their place, a small vial appeared—sealed tight and filled with a clear liquid.
"Tomorrow night, Jinji will come to you, warning that a great battle will be taking place the next day. And the following morning, when she wakes, you will slip this into her drink."
Rhen picked the vial up. The glass was no larger than his thumb. "What is it?"
"The elixir will make her drowsy, lethargic enough to diminish her strength and allow me to seize control of her body."
Rhen glanced up, meeting the spirit's eyes. "Why do you need this? You are controlling her right now. Why can you not carry out this plan in the dead of the night, while she is fast asleep and none the wiser?"
The Phoenix Born (A Dance of Dragons #3) Page 19