A Dance of Dragons: Series Starter Bundle (10 page)

2

Rhen

~ Roninhythe ~

"Faster, Ember," Rhen called, urging his horse
onward, leaving only the echo of a carefree laugh behind him on the
breeze.

Free again
.

Rhen grinned, relishing his narrow escape.
Adrenaline punched through his veins, fiery and intense, urging him
to run as fast as possible. That nobleman had been inches away from
gutting him. Of course, he couldn't blame the man. Rhen had spent
the night in his daughter's bed, and it was a father's job to
protect her virtue after all. Lucky for him, the old man's sword
arm was a little slow.

He did, however, feel slightly uneasy. It
really wasn't the girl's fault that he had slipped into her room
just before dawn. He had a reputation to protect—and he needed a
reason to be run from the city. But the fist's worth of gold
arriving at their door later that afternoon should be payment
enough, Rhen assured himself. That was assuming Cal, his loyal
friend and future Lord of Roninhythe, was on time with the
delivery.

Rhen rolled his shoulders, loosening the
knots court life left, ridding his body of the weight of
nobility.

Despite the cost, there was no question in
his mind. Now, riding Ember—carefree for a few minutes of
peace—everything had been worth it. There were few things he
wouldn't do to just be Rhen again.

Not Whylrhen, son of Whylfrick.

Not Whylrhen, Prince of the Kingdom of
Whylkin.

Not Whylrhen, blood of Whyl, the great
conqueror who united the lands.

No, just Rhen, a nineteen-year-old man with
no strings attached.

As the walls of the city faded into the
horizon, Rhen slowed Ember, patting her soft muddy-red hairs until
her breath calmed, and she understood that the urgency had passed.
Aside from his mother, she was the only female who had ever held
his heart, and though she was old, she had never failed him. Not as
a foal, when she had kicked down the stable door, saving his older
brother Whyllem from the blazing flames. And not as a mare, when
she had saved his life time after time, never demanding more than a
light scratch along her neck.

Well, sometimes demanding more…okay, often
demanding more, but Rhen was soft when it came to his horse.

He dropped the reins, trusting Ember to keep
the pace, and reached into his saddlebag to grab the plain brown
tunic resting inside. Stripping off the bright red silks of the
crown, he let his bare chest soak in the sun before donning the
less noticeable, but also less comfortable, common shirt. His boots
and pants were still of the noble variety, but he wouldn't be able
to fully hide his station without leaving Ember—and that just
wasn't an option.

She neighed.

"Alright, alright," he said, grabbing hold
of the leather straps again. "I suppose you deserve it." He pulled
back, bringing Ember to a slow halt, and jumped from the
saddle.

"Here you go," he said, slipping an apple
from his bag. She greedily stole it away from his hand in one bite.
A minute later, she stomped her foot, twisting her neck to look at
him with distinctly pouting eyes. Rhen rolled his own eyes and
reached for another.

Stroking her neck, he felt a sigh rumble
down her nerves and knew she was satisfied.

"Okay, Cal, what did you find?" He muttered
to himself, unrolling the parchment he had stashed in his belt just
before sneaking out of the castle.

Whylrhen
, the note began. Rhen
sneered at the use of his formal name before continuing
. I feel
it is my duty as your friend and loyal servant to first advise you
on the idiocy of your current plan to pursue…

Rhen sighed, skimming over the rest of the
first paragraph.
Irresponsible. Dangerous. Foolhardy.
Blah.
Blah. Blah. Did his best friend write this or the king? The
similarities in the phrasing were almost uncanny.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking up
at the endless sky for a brief moment, disregarding the paper in
his hands.

All Rhen had ever wanted to do was protect
his family. His father always said there were more than enough men
who wished to be king. What a kingdom really needed were less
people looking for glory and more people looking for honor.

Well, his eldest brother would be king and
his other brother would be the right hand of the king. But what few
people knew was that Rhen planned to become the left hand of the
king—the unseen hand, the one that lived in the shadows, catching
secrets on the wind.

To the world, Rhen would always be the third
son—the useless son, the extra son, the afterthought. He was known
as a womanizer, a gambler, and a fool—a reputation he did nothing
to stop. No, quite the opposite. It was a reputation he was usually
proud to build and strengthen. Better they think that than know the
truth. That he was smart. That he was always listening. And that he
was creating something his father had forbid, something he had
banished after—

Rhen shook his head, blinked, stopped his
mind from finishing those dark thoughts. That was history. And
there were more important things happening here and now that
required his absolute attention. Awenine, wife of his eldest
brother Whyltarin and future Queen of Whylkin, was with child.
There would be a new royal heir soon, a royal heir who needed
Rhen's protection.

And for the first time since Rhen had chosen
this path, there was something stirring, something waiting to be
heard. There were no coincidences. Secrets were being whispered on
the winds, if only he could just reach out far enough to catch
them…

Ember pressed her forehead against his arm,
nudging him into action as though she had felt his mood shift. He
patted the white patch between her eyes, thanking her, and then
lifted his body back into the saddle.

"Follow the road," he whispered into her
alert ear and lightly kicked her belly to emphasize the command.
She kept walking, and Rhen turned back to the letter, skipping down
farther until Cal's words finally grew interesting.

I asked my father about your information,
and he said he has heard nothing of the sort. His squire, however,
said differently. Just as you described, the merchants and their
crews are talking. Rumors of the spotting of unflagged ships on the
horizon have begun to spread around the docks, though no one seems
to take it too seriously, as there haven't been pirates in these
waters since Whyl the Conqueror united the lands.

In other news…

Rhen paused, chewing on his bottom lip,
ignoring the hair that had fallen over his eyes.

Nothing new, and yet, the word was
spreading. Weeks ago while visiting the royal shipyard, Rhen had
overheard sailors talking about spotting unflagged ships—ships that
belonged to no kingdom and no king. Later that day he returned,
looking distinctly less royal, and weeded out more information.
Unidentified ships had been spotted along the northwest shore of
the kingdom, a shore almost completely uninhabited due to the miles
upon miles of steep cliffs blocking access to the ocean.

But there were only two kingdoms left in
this world, the Kingdom of Whylkin and their neighboring Kingdom of
Ourthuro. Secret ships could only mean one thing—the Ourthuri were
looking for something, something that hinted of war.

Unless Rhen could stop it.

He kept reading.

In other news, the game has been lacking of
late. The butchers have been complaining that no meat is being
brought into the city, that they are losing their income. Unless
the oldworlders are hoarding animals in their little wooden huts,
someone else is taking them or something else is killing them. I
probably shouldn’t be telling you this, as it will only spur you
on, but I find it my duty as a friend to keep your trust—even if
you end up killed.

Perhaps my last piece of information will
dissuade you from that course of action though. Unexplained deaths
have been a recent phenomenon—bodies found with their throats slit,
suicides we presume—though gossips have been labeling them as
something far worse. I wouldn't have believed them, but Henry, a
knight in my father's guard, and his wife recently passed the same
way. And he was a strong fighter, an honorable man. He would not
have done it to himself or to her.

So again, I would advise against chasing
down these mercenary, and currently quite imaginary, ships on your
own. Stay in Roninhythe and we can explore these mysterious deaths
together; a noble cause I assure you.

You are a prince and someday you will have
to understand that. But until that day, I will do my best as a
friend to make sure it is something you do not forget.

Rhen snorted—as if he could ever forget. No,
Roninhythe was not where he needed to be. Disappearing game sounded
like a good lead—perhaps the unflagged ships had dropped off
unspotted infiltrators. Cal had mentioned the oldworlders, which
meant Rhen's destination was the Northmore Forest—home of the
Arpapajo and another day's ride away.

"What do you say we move a little faster?"
He asked. Ember's ears pricked at the sound of his voice and before
he had fully gripped the reins, her slow walk had turned into a
gallop.

There were few things Rhen loved more than
the air whipping past his face as Ember raced through the
countryside. In that time, the two of them were one. Her eyes were
his eyes. Her legs his legs. Their minds were so connected that he
didn’t even need to speak to give her directions, she just
understood.

Sometimes he would close his eyes and just
let the smell of the grass fill his senses. Or open them so wide
that tears leaked out the side from the wind. Heart thumping to the
beat of her feet, all other sounds faded away and every dark memory
seemed to disappear.

They covered miles in what felt like
minutes, but the drowning sun betrayed the real time. Shadows
elongated and the air cooled until eventually, Rhen could barely
see a few feet before Ember's nose.

"Alright, girl," he said sadly, wishing it
were not time to stop, "let's settle down for the night." He had
spotted a tree line ahead, just before the light disappeared, and
the last thing he wanted was to lead Ember straight into raised
roots or a wide trunk. There was no use risking injury.

He slipped from the saddle and unhooked the
buckle under her belly, letting the heavy leather seat fall from
her back. Then without giving her time to protest, he pushed on her
behind, signaling that it was time to lay down. She often preferred
sleeping upright, but tonight, with the last remaining winter nips
still on the breeze, Rhen would need her warmth. And after a long
run, she would need her sleep.

Once Ember settled, Rhen curled in next to
her side, and the two of them let sleep come quickly.

But it didn't last very long.

Just before sunrise, Rhen woke with a long
gasp and coughed, flipping over onto his hands and knees while his
lungs rebelled against his body. Within seconds, Ember had smelled
it too, hopping to her feet and letting out a long screech that
scratched its way down Rhen's spine.

Smoke.

Plumes and plumes of smoke.

"Easy, girl," he jumped to his feet,
wrapping his arms around Ember's neck until she calmed. "You know I
won't let anything happen to you." She curved inward, using her
head to complete the hug while Rhen continued to pat her short
hairs.

He looked down her long body toward the
forest, and farther still to the large black tunnel drifting from
the treetops. It was moving with the wind, which just happened to
be smacking the two of them in the face.

Excellent.

Quickly, Rhen reached down and resecured the
saddle. He walked before Ember and gripped her nose, making her
look at him. Fear was written across her dark black pupils.

"I know what this is putting you through,"
he said as she winced, "but you must trust me. Fire is something
that will never hurt you, not when you are with me."

She pulled against his hand, her vision
going back to the forest for a quick second. She kicked the ground,
complaining, letting him know just how unhappy she was.

His heart sank. There was no need to remind
him of her fears. Though her name was Ember, fire was the last
thing she was made of. Her skin trembled, remembering the barn and
the fire that had almost claimed her life.

But there was no choice. He had to find the
cause of the flames, and he had to put them out. Because fire was
exactly what Rhen was made of.

Jumping up into the saddle, he urged Ember
forward, bringing them closer to the trees but to the side away
from the smoke. They would follow it like a great river, along the
edge and just out of reach.