A Dance of Dragons: Series Starter Bundle (32 page)

Rhen let the silence stretch and hang,
filling the tiny space between them. The shoreline had closed in;
the sky was slowly disappearing as the cliffs took over. The
Straits waited before them, an open mouth poised to swallow the
ship.

"That's a good story," Jin whispered.

Raising an eyebrow, Rhen looked at the boy,
then back to the sea. They were so close. So close. He waited, one
more moment, before responding, "It isn’t just a story, Jin.
Look."

Rhen pointed to the front of the ship, to
the blue waters extending beyond the bow, and past them to the
start of the Straits.

The ship was still a little far away, but
Rhen knew where to look. Already, he could see the white and black
dots scattering along the inner walls of the Straits. The closer
they got, the more obvious it became to his well-trained eyes.

Jin's brows were still furrowed. His neck
was extended, stretching as close as possible to the scene. Rhen
watched as the boy pursed his lips, as wrinkles spread along his
forehead.

A shadow fell over them.

Jin gasped, head wrenching up to the sky. A
yelp escaped his lips, as though he expected something to drop from
the clouds.

Rhen smirked. It was just the cliffs,
stretching high overhead and blocking out the sun. They were just
about to cross over into the mouth of the river.

Which could only mean one thing…his story
was working. It wasn't right for someone to be anything but scared
during his first trip through the Straits—it was a rite of passage,
one step in becoming a man. Plus, his brothers had done the same to
him. It was only fair that Rhen got to inflict the pain on someone
else.

"Rhen!" Jin gasped. And Rhen knew he had
finally seen it—the thing that legends were made of, the
unanswerable mystery. "Are those…?"

"Yes."

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking
at the scene that still made his throat hitch in terror, and gulped
deeply.

Bones.

Skulls.

Armor.

All of it, stuck between layers of hardened,
immobile rock.

Most of it just looked like thin strips of
white or black sandwiched between brownish-gray stone. But every so
often, two empty eyes would peer out, hollow and haunting. The
glint of a now dull blade might catch the sun. Or the chink of
rusted armor. The longer one looked, the more there was to see. A
hand pushing out through rock. A spine bending almost in a circle.
A helmet, cracked clean in half with the bone missing, taken by
time.

"Buried by the flood, by nature itself,"
Rhen said.

An entire battlefield lay stuck in these
walls, frozen in time yet completely forgotten.

Rhen snuck a quick look at Jin, who was
still enraptured.

He took a small step back, the biggest the
tiny space would allow, hoping Jin might forget he was there.

He waited.

Waited.

Slowed his breathing.

Knelt down.

Hid.

Then in one quick motion, he sprang forward,
wrapping his hands around Jin's shoulders and throat while yelling
as loud as he could into the boy's ear.

Perfect.

Instantly, a screech, as high-pitched as any
Rhen had heard from a woman, broke free of Jin's lips. And kept
going. And kept going.

Until Rhen, enveloped in a fit of laughter,
fell to floor of the small crow's nest—his body too uncontrolled to
hold him upright.

The screech finally came to a halt.

Below them, Rhen heard muffled coughs—coughs
that sounded distinctly un-cough like.

He rolled onto his back. He felt the boy's
eyes on him, heard his heavy breathing.

Then suddenly, Jin was on the floor too,
next to Rhen, bursts of joy escaping his lips.

"Jin," Rhen forced out between deep breaths,
"you, you sounded…that…a girl…so high."

The words were incoherent, but he knew Jin
would understand.

They stayed like that, comfortable, until
all sound except deep breathing died away. Then Jin stiffened,
sitting up, pulling his thighs flat against his chest.

Rhen stayed where he was, watching clouds
float by overhead, perfectly content to let his feet dangle in the
breeze.

"Rhen?"

"Hmm?"

He shifted his gaze to Jin, whose head
rested on his knee, pensively studying the cliff face to the side
of the ship.

"Do you think…" He paused. "Do you think the
flood was real?"

Rhen shrugged. "I don't know, Jin, it's just
a legend."

"Do you think…" He paused again. "Is it
possible that a human caused it? Someone like you or me?"

Rhen sat up, listening.

"What if before, people could use these
gifts, could actually make things happen?"

"How so?"

"What if before, instead of just pulling the
fire under your skin, you could create it? What if someone could do
the same thing with water?"

"That's not natural," Rhen said the first
words that came to mind. But part of him was intrigued—the part of
him that as a boy had tried to do that very thing.

"I think it would be the most natural thing
in the world," Jin said, soft and fragile.

"Well, if you feel a sudden urge to drown
the kingdom, let me know, okay?" He grinned.

Jin rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at
his lips.

"We're in this together, you and me," Rhen
said, nudging the boy with his knee. "We'll defeat the Ourthuri.
Dissipate your shadow. And with whatever time is left over, we'll
figure out what the spirits mean to do with us. Agreed?"

He offered his hand.

Jin looked at it, and then slowly stretched
his own forward.

A pact.

Clouds gathered in the boy's eyes, but Rhen
chose to ignore them. Instead standing, stretching his arms high
overhead, and letting a yawn open his mouth.

"I think I need some food," he said
sleepily, before jumping easily down onto the ropes, starting his
descent.

The day was too beautiful for doubts.

15

Jinji

~ White Stone Sea ~

Jinji was leaving.

She would wait until Rhen was reunited with
his family, until he was distracted, but as soon as that happened,
she was gone.

She had to be.

It had all started with a dream—so small, so
insignificant, yet everything.

Jinji sat in the golden palace. Rhen's head
rested on her lap. A gold dress flowed over her limbs, her eyes
were hooded with the veil, and she ran her fingers lovingly over
his cheeks.

"Rhen," she whispered, dipping her lips down
so they skimmed the soft skin below his ear. "Wake up."

Hair fell over her shoulder, hair that was
black and long and luscious—hair that was not cut in mourning, that
showed no respect for her heritage, for her family.

A hand gently cupped her cheek. It was
coarse and callused, yet comforting.

"Jinji," a deep voice said. She pulled back,
meeting sparkling green eyes—the color of the forest just before
twilight.

Rhen.

And he looked at her like she was his
world.

Slowly, she pulled the metal mask off her
head, but his expression bore no surprise. He knew who she was. He
had known the entire time.

His fingers slipped behind her neck, running
through her heavy locks, massaging the skin around her shoulders
before pulling her down.

Down.

Closer.

Until their breath mingled, hot and
electric.

And then his lips were on her skin, setting
it ablaze. His fingers like lava as they traced a path down her
back, over thin fabrics, to her hip, and still lower.

Jinji gasped.

She had never been touched like this before.
Never been held like this.

Her skin prickled, hot to the touch. Her
fingers stretched into his hair, gripping the short strands,
forcing his face closer.

But then they both stopped moving, halted in
time.

Suddenly, his lips turned cold. His hands
fell away.

Jinji sat up. But it was not Rhen below her
anymore.

It was Maniuk—face frozen in betrayal.

She blinked.

The face changed to that of her father—eyes
downcast with disappointment.

Tears blurred her vision, so she rubbed them
away.

Now her mother—mouth open in disgust.

"No!" She yelled and stood, backing
away.

The body shifted, flipped over—rotting
fingers gripped the ground, pulling the carcass closer. The figure
stood.

And it was Janu.

"Have you forgotten?" He asked. The skin
around his lips flaked away. "Have you forgotten what you are?"

His hands rose up and gripped her cheeks.
His skin melted off, dripping to her feet until finally it was her
own face that remained.

"Remember," she said, "remember."

And then she had awoken, panting in the
darkness, her heart racing as fast as it had ever felt. But it
wasn't the shadow—it was her own guilt haunting her.

The dream played on repeat in her sleep,
sometimes changing location, but always the same. Rhen or her
family. Rhen or her vengeance.

She could not have both.

Traveling with Rhen had brought her no
closer to answers. It had been a distraction—perhaps a needed one,
a way to free herself from the loss, to open herself up to the
outside world, now far less scary than it had been only weeks
before. But there was no forgetting her people or her mission.

The spirits were guiding her, but toward
what? It was time to take fate into her own hands. And if Rhen
could not help her defeat the shadow, she needed to leave him
behind and find someone who could.

No matter how much her heart tightened at
that thought.

"Are you practicing? Like that?"

Jinji turned. She had forgotten about the
sword resting in her lap, the one Rhen was trying his best to teach
her how to use. Her mind had been elsewhere, but now she was
aware.

The world filtered back into focus.

"No." She shrugged, removing it and letting
it drop onto the ground beside her. She was at the bow of the ship,
sitting with legs crossed as she gazed out at the waters before
her.

They had left the deep canals, the cliffs,
and the river behind long ago. Now they were in the White Stone Sea
as Rhen had called it, affection evident in his voice. This was his
territory, his home. And it was as beautiful as anything she had
ever laid eyes on.

The sea was turquoise—brighter and more
vibrant than any waters she had ever seen before. Rhen said it was
the sand.

There was a mountain range in the middle of
the sea, huge peaks that stretched endlessly into the clouds. The
locals called them the Gates—the entrance to the spirit world. No
humans had ever been able to climb them and live to tell the tale,
though Rhen assured her that some had tried. But the stones, he
said, were pure white. The mountains looked like snow and ice from
afar, but they were rock. A smooth, polished stone unlike anywhere
else in their world.

The sand was made from that rock—the waters
beat against the mountains, knocking pieces off and breaking them
down into rubble. The pure ivory that decorated the sea floor
turned the water the most unbelievable hue, a liquid gemstone.

"We should be arriving in Rayfort today, a
few hours at the most," Rhen said from above. He stood next to her,
resting his forearms on the wooden rail, eyes focused on the search
for his home. "I recognize the shoreline."

Jinji stayed seated, keeping her distance.
"What will happen when we get there?"

"I imagine my family will be both relieved
and annoyed at my appearance. The Naming should be happening soon,
they've likely been postponing it until I return. The ceremony
cannot be completed without the entire royal house present. My
brother and I must hand over our right to the throne to the new Son
of Whyl, removing our claim to keep the future succession
untainted."

"And what will happen to me?"

"During the Naming? Nothing. Only the
noble—well, let's just say it is a closed ceremony. But afterward,
I will show you my home. We can train you to be a knight, you can
grow up to serve your kingdom and your king." Rhen shrugged, as
though that was the normal—the only—path for her to take.

Was that why he had wanted to teach her
swordplay? Why he had demanded?

Jinji pulled her legs into her chest.

She had been right. Rayfort was the end.
After that, she and Rhen would have to part ways, to follow
different fates.

Part of her had hoped that things would
change after she had forced him to dance with the fire. And it had.
They had drifted closer—too close.

Despite being just Jin to Rhen, she felt
like he knew her better than anyone else ever had—anyone except
Janu. She understood Rhen. He trusted her, likely against his best
instincts. And she had faith in him.