A Dance of Dragons: Series Starter Bundle (22 page)

"Whylrhen—"

"Prepare the ship, we continue on to the
Golden Isles," Rhen interrupted, not meeting the concerned blue
eyes that stared him down.

Only when the captain left did Rhen move,
running his vision over the bodies crumpled on the floor. He
shuffled to the closest man, kneeling to get a look at his arm.

Three ebony stripes were tattooed around his
wrists and a triangle of dots decorated his hand.

Rhen recognized the mark. A soldier.

He flipped the fingers over, searching for
another mark on the palm, something else to identify him, but there
was nothing.

Just a common soldier.

Rhen walked around the other bodies, doing
the same, but they were identical.

Until he reached the archer, the body Rhen
had saved for last. Each wrist wore the standard soldier marks, but
when he flipped it over, the same dotted triangle had been painted
on the inside of his palm.

He was from the inner ranks, the warriors
specially chosen to protect the king. But if he was meant to
protect the Ourthuri king, what was he doing so far from home?

"Prince Whylrhen," someone gasped from
behind.

Rhen stood, facing the voice. It was Geoff.
And behind him, chained and shackled together, stood four very
skinny Ourthuri. Rhen grinned, heart feeling light as excitement
bubbled in his brain.

Perhaps all hope wasn't lost. Not yet.

"Help them aboard the
Old Maid
," Rhen
ordered and moved to the makeshift bridge between the ships. "We'll
question them from safer grounds."

He crossed over, hearing the creak of
straining wood.

As soon as everyone had touched safely down
on the clean, and now cluttered, deck of the
Old Maid
, the
chains released from the crossbows below deck, detaching from the
ship and dropping into the sea. Immediately, the other ship caught
the tide, slipping slowly away.

It was only a matter of time before it sank,
but Rhen hoped to be miles closer to the Golden Isles before that
happened. And much closer to answers too.

If only he could get these prisoners to
talk.

He looked at the rusted chains around their
hands, the red welts on their wrists, the bones pushing against
thin skin.

Treating them like anything but prisoners
might just do the trick.

"Do any of you understand what I am saying?"
He asked, looking down at their wrists. All four were painted with
three thick bands of simple black lines. Farmers, peasants, the
lowest class. The Kingdom of Ourthuro was composed of a hundred
islands, each with its own somewhat individualized language—that
Rhen knew half of those tongues was something he preferred to keep
secret for as long as possible. But as it was, only a member of the
upper classes would understand his Whylkin speech.

Movement brought Rhen back as one of the men
stepped forward. He was tall and lean, shaped completely different
from Rhen. His hair hung in straggles over his face, black and
wiry, malnourished, and his eyes held the calculating tick of
intelligence.

"I understand," he said in a deep, cautious
voice, accented harshly, choppy so two words came out sounding more
like four. As he moved in front of his companions, Rhen saw burns
on his hands, bumpy scars in place of tattoos, and it could only
mean one thing—the man was a criminal, he had been degraded, his
old marks burned away and replaced with those of an unmarked—a
slave.

Perfect
, Rhen thought
. Just the
sort of man who might talk
.

"Why were you imprisoned on this ship?"

"I tried to marry above my station," he said
softly, shuffling his feet.

"Your companions?"

"They sold their labor in return for food
for their families."

"And what labor was that?" Rhen asked,
leaning in closer, moving his hand subconsciously to the hilt of
his sword. The man's gaze flicked down, but he returned Rhen's
gaze, unafraid.

"We were told very little, but I believe we
were being taken to Whylkin to steal supplies—wood, livestock,
food."

Rhen leaned back, brows scrunched together
as he ran a hand through his wild hair. "Why? The Golden Isles are
richer than our lands have ever been."

"Richer in metal, yes, but not in other
things like fertile soil and hunting game."

Rhen exhaled heavily—this was news to
him.

"With so much gold, why not buy it? Why risk
so much for something you could purchase justly?"

The man shrugged. "My king is a greedy
man."

"All kings are," Rhen said under his breath,
wondering what his father would do with this information. Try to
push trade prices up between the kingdoms, or try to weaken
Ourthuro until they would pay anything for the supplies they
needed. But could that really be it? Why the suicide? Why the
poison? "Did you hear anything else? Any conversations between the
men aboard?"

He shook his head.

Rhen sighed. It would not help to push these
men, not yet at least. He could tell they were tired with their
backs hunched in, swaying on feet that looked barely able to hold
them upright.

"Captain," Rhen said. Pygott turned to face
his prince. "Please help get these men unchained and fed. Show them
below deck and give them anything they require." Rhen raised his
voice, to be heard by the rest of the ship. "These men are our
guests, not our prisoners, and I expect no harm to come to them. We
are giving them safe passage home."

The crew nodded. The Ourthuri bowed in
thanks, but Rhen couldn't help but see the fear in their eyes, fear
that only sparked at the mention of their home.

They were hiding something.

And they're not the only ones
, Rhen
thought as Jin walked back into view, finally descended from his
safe haven in the crow's nest. He stood apart from the crowd,
behind the rest of the crew, staring in disbelief at his own
hands.

He looked up, meeting Rhen's gaze, and his
arms instantly slackened, dead by his sides. Even from the
distance, Rhen could see the challenge in Jin's eyes. A challenge
he intended to take.

But not yet.

Everyone on the ship needed a moment to
rest, a moment of peace.

He looked to the horizon.

One week left on the open ocean, one week
left to Ourthuro.

Plenty of time.

He turned back to Jin and winked. The boy
jerked and dashed to the bow of the ship, not once looking
back.

You can run, but you can't hide. Not on
this ship
.

9

Jinji

~ Dueling Sea ~

Jinji's fingers buzzed, still alive with the spirits
even though many days had passed since the fight. She had never
woven an illusion so large, so intricate. Mirages of Janu had
always come naturally. She pictured his face so often that it was
imprinted on her brain, easily sprouting to life when called.

But this had been something different.

Something more powerful.

She had created an illusion that could only
be seen from one side. Jinji hadn't even been certain it had
worked, not until the enemy arrows flew and landed uselessly to the
right of the ship—dead center on the illusion of the
Old
Maid
that she had woven. And still, she prayed in the back of
her mind that no one in the crew realized what she was doing, that
no one could see the false picture.

The second her feet landed back on deck,
Jinji had her answer. Rhen's eyes pierced hers, pricking her heart,
and instantly she knew that he knew. There was enough curiosity,
confusion, and determination in his gaze to put her at ease for a
moment—he knew she had done something, but he had no idea what that
something was.

Whatever relief she felt disappeared
quickly. Since that instant, Rhen had made it his personal mission
to uncover all of her secrets.

And the longer they remained on the ship,
the more and more difficult it was becoming to evade him.

But the outsiders, the men who had been
stolen away from the other ship, had saved her—a miracle
distraction keeping Rhen at bay. He coveted their answers even more
than hers, and those answers were more urgent. They had a time
limit—one that seemed fast approaching judging from the words of
Captain Pygott.

He expected to sight land early today, and
to arrive in the Ourthuri capital tomorrow evening.

One day
, Jinji thought,
one last
day of living constantly on edge
.

She listened, waiting for the sound of a
snore that did not come, and squeezed her eyes tightly shut before
taking a deep breath and relaxing them.

Keep closed
, she ordered.

Try not to move.

And then she felt his gaze land on her,
scanning her face. A shadow penetrated her lashes, hot breath
kissed her cheek, and a tingle shivered up her neck.

"Jin," Rhen whispered.

She ignored him, counting to ten in her
head.

"Jin, are you awake?"

He poked her shoulder gently. Jinji moved,
rolling over, groaning in protest as though still caught in a
dream.

A loud, frustrated sigh flowed into her
ears.

"I'll get to you later," he said gruffly,
and then Jinji heard bootsteps on wood, the creak of a door. She
counted to fifteen, knowing Rhen could not remain quiet for such a
lengthy stretch of time.

Still silence.

Jinji stretched her arms overhead, sitting
up slowly in the hammock and opening her eyes, wincing at the
bright sun filtering through the window. Another cloudless day.
Another unbroken stretch of blue.

The novelty of the sea had most definitely
worn off.

Jinji needed the forest.

She yearned for it.

She looked down at her hands, almost
surprised to see them look just as normal as ever. Her skin its
usual brown, but underneath it, the spirits were dancing, tingling,
urging her to weave more, to keep building her power.

Curious, Jinji closed her eyes, picturing
trees and grass, sunlight filtering through leaves, the gentle
patter of a stream, and the flutter of a butterfly hovering over
the bright red of a flower.

Her eyes widened instantly, and she stepped
down off the hammock into her forest. The clearing, almost the same
as she remembered it, minus the laughing face of Leoa. She walked
forward, just a few steps, and there was the patch of yellow,
perfectly shaped for her body, the spot where she had sat for hours
and hours just to think, just to be. Jinji sunk to the floor
slowly, waiting for the comforting cushion of her home, her sacred
place, but the ground below her butt was still hard wood.
Unyielding. Unnatural. Not the soft patch of dirt she wished it
was.

The illusion fell, shattered, taking Jinji's
mood with it.

Time to face the day
, she sighed.

By the corner, under her hammock, were the
fresh clothes Rhen had promised the night before. Newworlder
clothes. Her first.

Yesterday, pestered by the stink of Janu's
skins, skins that were never meant for the sea, Jinji asked for
something new to wear. But now, faced with the reality, she didn’t
feel ready. Not ready to remove that last tie to her home. But what
had once been soft, comfortable fur was now harsh and scratchy,
itching her skin, causing a rash.

Biting her lip, Jinji pulled Janu's shirt
overhead, holding it before her.

Eyes watering, she removed the pelts around
her legs and balled them all into one lump, stuffing it under the
hammock.

Naked was not enough to describe how she
felt, shivering there, staring at the bleached out skins. Exposed.
Alone. Abandoned. Judged.

What would her mother say if she saw her
only daughter dressed like one of them? What would her father do if
he knew she had killed like one of them? What would Maniuk think if
he realized she was sharing this room with one of them? Would Leoa
still laugh with her, brush her hair, or would she look from a
distance with scorn?

Jinji couldn’t breathe.

Her throat closed in, held by invisible
hands, the very spirits of her tribe calling her to join them, to
be at her rightful spot.

Better dead than unrecognizable.

Diving forward, Jinji cried out, gripping
the skins in her hands. Stumbling backward, she reached for the
clasp on the window and tossed Janu's clothes outside.

Her neck loosened. She gulped in one
strained breath.

Then panic.

Shoving her head out of the hole, she
searched for the skins, finding them just in time to watch them
sink below the surface—gone.

Her hands shook.

Her lip quivered.

She took a deep, uneven breath.

Then another.