A Dance of Dragons: Series Starter Bundle (14 page)

But looking at Jin, Rhen had to face his own
ignorance.

No matter how many years ago, it was his
family, his blood, who had torn their identity away. Jin spoke the
king's language very well, but still, it sounded foreign on his
tongue, as though it wasn't really supposed to be there.

There were many lands in this kingdom that
Whyl the Conqueror united, many cities and peoples he had merged
into one, but all of them looked and lived alike—the differences
were so few and far between that uniting was almost natural.

But not the Arpapajo.

They were outsiders, myths—at least to
everyone but that sole emissary sent by the king.

Rhen felt the urge to apologize stir on his
lips, but what could he say? Stealing a way of life was not
something an
I'm sorry
would really fix.

And now Jin was alone.

His culture would fade completely away, dust
in the wind.

Rhen was staring, dumbstruck.

He didn’t realize it until Jin shifted his
brows and leaned forward, inquiring, "Your theory?"

"Right!" Rhen jumped into motion. There was
nothing he could say to make up for the past. Better to befriend
the boy and keep him safe—safe enough to keep the Arpapajo
alive.

His hand went to his waist, searching for
his sword, but of course it was gone. Sighing, Rhen turned to Jin.
"One minute."

He walked to the pile of weapons, searching
for the gold hilt of his sword. Being a prince did have its perks,
and his weapon was one of them—made from the finest metals by the
finest blacksmith. He did not want to part with it.

He scanned the dull gray blades.

Not there.

He stood, hand on hip, searching and feeling
like an imbecile as Jin's gaze grew more and more doubtful.

There.

He spotted it across the fire,
unscratched.

Picking the sword up, Rhen walked back to
his spot next to the boy and drew a large circle on the ground,
then a smaller one in the middle of it.

"This is the Kingdom of Whylkin," he said,
pointing to the outer circle. "Over here is the Northmore Forest,
where we are now." He shaded in a spot on the upper right of the
circle. "This," he said, outlining the smaller circle in the middle
of Whylkin, "is the White Stone Sea, named because there is a great
mountain range in the center of the water composed of a pearly
rock, so all of the sands in the sea are bright white. And down
here is my home, Rayfort, commonly called the King's City because
it is the home of the royal family." Rhen poked a deep circle in
the dirt on the lower left bank of the White Stone Sea—the motion
mirrored by a stabbing pressure on his heart. His home, the one he
wanted—no, needed—to protect. "Do you understand?"

Jin nodded. Rhen took the silence as a sign
to continue.

"Over here," he drew a series of small ovals
to the left of the circle that represented his kingdom, "are the
Golden Isles, or the Kingdom of Ourthuro. And the men who attacked
your village, these men you just killed, are Ourthuri—are from
those islands. See how their skin is darker, slightly olive, and
their hair a thick black? That's one way to tell. But more
obvious," he leaned down, picking up the wrist of one of the dead
men, "all Ourthuri are marked at birth with their station. These
men all have one thick band tattooed on each wrist, a very simple
design. It means they were from the outer isles, most likely
farmers, or workers of some sort."

He dropped the arm, letting it thunk back
into the dirt and paused, taking a second look at the design. It
was definitely the simple design of a commoner—not the more
intricate dot and striped design of an Ourthuri warrior.

But what would they be doing in Whylkin? Why
farmers and not soldiers?

"And why were they here?" Jin asked,
thinking the same thing.

Rhen grinned. Finally, the boy was showing
some interest, some life.

"I think they were here as a scouting team,
to see how difficult it would be to make land without my king
knowing. I think they were here to prepare for war."

"War?" Jin scrunched his face. The word
sounded ugly on his lips, like something he never thought of, let
alone said. Something foreign he didn’t understand.

"Yes, war." Rhen said. The word, he noticed,
sounded much smoother on his lips, much more familiar. "Ourthuro
was once the most powerful kingdom in the world. We call their
lands the Golden Isles because the soil is practically made of the
stuff. They had riches that no one in this land could ever
understand. It was before the time of Whylkin, when our kingdom was
divided and composed of many different cities and kings constantly
fighting with each other.

"But almost three hundred years ago, one of
those kings, King Whyl of Rayfort, conquered the land and united us
all under his name, creating the Kingdom of Whylkin—to be ruled
forevermore by his blood, the family of Whyl."

The words rolled off Rhen's tongue.

Whylrhen.

His name. His blood.

This tale was his personal bedtime story,
the one his mother had told him over and over again until he didn’t
even have to think to repeat it.

Rhen looked up from his drawing, and Jin
looked away quickly.

But not fast enough to hide the bitter edge
to his gaze. The boy knew this part of the story—the part where a
lot of his people were killed and their culture stripped away.

Rhen skipped ahead.

"Throughout history, the Ourthuri have
mounted attacks, trying to regain their former power, but nothing
has worked. And I think they are trying again, here and now."

"But why?" Jin asked. "Why?" He repeated, a
slight shake in his voice.

Because it's what they do
, Rhen
thought, but he kept silent. Somehow the answer didn't seem like
enough.

"Because power is everything," he said
instead. Another lesson drilled into him from infancy.

"Not to the dead," Jin whispered.

Rhen had no reply. Instead, he watched Jin,
watched him take a heavy breath, watched him bite his lip, watched
him furrow his brows. The boy was smart, smarter than his years.
There was more going on inside of that head than he let on—a puzzle
Rhen intended to solve.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he intended to sleep off the ache
in his muscles.

"We should both rest. We've a long day's
journey ahead of us tomorrow." Rhen stretched his arms high above
his head, creaking like an old man.
But
, he shrugged,
that's what getting knocked out will do.

Not a word to his brothers, he sighed, not a
word. And definitely not one to Cal—Rhen was in no state for
another lecture. The bump on his head was quite enough.

There was a tent across the fire with his
name on it—all he was hoping for was a sleeping mat, something soft
for his sore, royal behind.

"Where are we going?" Jin asked.

The sound surprised Rhen—the boy was
becoming a regular chatterbox.

He eased his weight back down. Sleep would
have to wait.

But he understood.

"To Roninhythe, a nearby city, and then
probably on to Rayfort so I can speak with m—" Rhen stopped short,
biting the word
father
back into his lip. He looked up
sharply, but Jin's concentration was elsewhere. Eventually, the boy
would have to be told, but not yet. He still wanted to be Rhen,
just Rhen, at least for a little while longer. "So I can get word
to the king," he said, finishing the sentence softly.

"Is Roninhythe," Jin stumbled over the word,
forcing it out, "is it a stone city?"

Rhen laughed loudly—he didn’t know what he
had been expecting, but not that. The question was so simple, so
straightforward when compared to the events of the day.

"Yes, Jin, it's a stone city. There is a
large defensive wall around the limits and beside the port there is
a great castle towering into the sky."

He smirked as Jin's eyes widened, imagining
the scene. The oldworlder boy was about to be in for a big shock.
Just wait until we reach Rayfort
, Rhen thought, picturing
his home. Its multiple defensive walls, the glittering town homes
of the rich, and of course, the palace—stained glass windows, halls
lined with silk tapestries, walls of white rock slabs that blinded
in the sun.

Much different from animal skins and the
forest.

"How tall?" Jin asked, looking up at the
nearest tree.

"So tall," Rhen said, leaning in close,
"that you can see this very forest on the horizon even though it is
miles away. So tall that the highest tree you have ever climbed
will seem small in comparison."

"It seems unnatural to build such a thing,"
the boy shook his head, disapproving.

Rhen smiled, raising his eyebrows in jest.
"To my people, it would seem unnatural to live in the woods,
without horses and carriages and stone walls."

"To my people, it—" Jin stopped short,
drawing his knees into his chest, shaking slightly.

Rhen winced. Just witnessing the sadness on
the boy's face was painful.

"To your people?" Rhen asked, trying to
cajole the boy, to let him know it was okay to speak about them
even though they were gone.

But Jin shook his head, digging his chin
farther into his knees.

Rhen backed off, giving him space. He needed
time to heal, time to adjust.

So instead, Rhen stood, completed the
stretch he had started just before Jin began speaking, and reached
for Ember. She walked over to his outstretched hand, rubbing her
soft neck into his palm.

Scratching behind her ears, Rhen listened
for the contented rumble of a sigh, the sign that she forgave him
for needing to be rescued yet again. And there it was, vibrating
against his hand. Ember dipped her head down low enough for Rhen to
kiss the white patch on her forehead and then stepped to the
side.

He undid the straps on the heavy saddle,
rubbing down the disrupted hairs and pulling an apple from the
pouch. Ember took it happily.

"What is your horse's name?"

"Ember," Rhen answered, not turning around
as he peered into the bag again. His red silk shirt was still
there, untouched. A pit in his stomach dropped, and Rhen brought
his hand quickly to his chest, sighing with relief when he felt the
small bump under the roughly woven shirt.

His ring was still there. His unique royal
seal. The only thing on his person that truly denoted his
birthright. His safeguard.

And the only way to ensure any letter he
wrote would go straight to the king.

"Ember…" Jin said in a drawn out breath, "to
go with fire?"

At that Rhen did turn, meeting the boy's
questioning gaze.

He squinted, trying to read through the
silence.

He couldn't know.

Rhen hadn’t touched the fire. He hadn’t
breathed it in like his body had begged him to do. And Jin had
practically been dead, lying in a hut, when he had drawn the forest
flames in.

There was no way the boy could know.

And yet, some intelligence sparked in those
dark eyes, some impossible knowledge seemed hidden in their
depths.

"Ember," Rhen said slowly, "because her coat
is the color of dying flames, and because as a foal she saved my
brother from almost certain death by fire."

"It's a girl?" The boy straightened,
excited.

"Relax, she's still a horse," Rhen laughed.
Jin tilted his head, confused.

Apparently, raunchy jokes were not part of
the Arpapajo culture.
Something to add to the boy's
education
, Rhen noted wryly.

Having a traveling companion could be more
fun than he expected.

"I'll explain later." He sighed, looking at
the tent over Ember's head. "But for right now, we should both
sleep."

Rhen stepped forward, lifting the flap of
the enclosure.

Yes
, he grinned. His prayer had been
answered. There was a sleeping mat, not extremely thick, not even
very luxurious looking, but still softer than the ground.

He looked back into the night, where Jin now
stood scratching Ember's neck. The two were getting along quite
nicely, leaving Rhen completely shocked—Ember was normally quite
dramatic around other people, a little bit of a princess in a
castle made only of princes.

But the sight calmed his nerves too.

Jin was keeping secrets, of that Rhen was
certain. And in time, he would uncover them. But for now, it was
enough to know that Ember trusted the boy. She was the best judge
of character he had ever seen—after all, she almost got sent to the
butcher for spitting on the king.

Rhen laughed quietly at the memory. It had
been years ago, but his father still referred to Ember as Rhen's
damn horse
.

He blinked, refocusing on the current
night.

"Do you want to sleep in the shelter?" He
called out.

"No," Jin shook his head. "Tonight, I want
to see the stars."

Rhen shrugged.

He had slept under the stars enough times to
know it was not as romantic as it seemed in the stories.
No
,
he thought as he lay down on the mat. Soft cushions were much more
awe-inspiring.

As sleep sought to overtake him, Rhen's
overactive mind did its best to keep him awake. There was so much
left to do. He had to find Cal, he had to get word to the king, and
he had to determine if more Ourthuri had disembarked on his
lands.

Where were these unflagged ships? How did
they go unnoticed? And how could he stop it?

And just as Rhen was on the brink of a
breakthrough, the answer surely on the tip of his tongue, a snore
sounded on his lips—loud and thunderous enough to be heard in his
dreams.

Dark dreams.

Dreams of a future he hoped beyond all hopes
to change.