A Dance of Dragons: Series Starter Bundle (35 page)

Trying hard to ignore them, Rhen bit his
cheeks, waiting for his father to speak. But the king just watched,
far too relaxed leaning back on the throne with his chin in his
palm. The golden crown rested on his curling hairs. His silken
robes were stark against the ivory stone around him. While his
demeanor was deceptively lax, his eyes were hard and demanding.

The silence was too overwhelming. Rhen
urgently felt the need to explain himself, his absence.
"Father—"

"Were you not aware of Awenine's pregnancy
before you mysteriously disappeared from home seven months ago?"
The king's deep voice reverberated down the hall, sinking into
Rhen's bones, making them shake.

"I was," he said hoarsely. Rhen swallowed,
trying to moisten his dry throat.

"Were you not aware that it takes only nine
months for a woman to birth a child?" Whyllem snickered, trying to
cover it with a cough.

"I was."

"Then you must not have been listening when
your teachers discussed the Naming, one of Whylkin's most sacred
ceremonies."

Rhen frowned. "I was, but—"

"Then why in the name of Whyl has the royal
family and every nobleman in the kingdom been twiddling their
thumbs for days waiting for the reckless third son of King
Whylfrick to return home?"

"Father, I—"

The king sat straight, leaning forward and
raising his voice. "I know. Young Calen was kind enough to deliver
your message. Unmarked ships. Attacks in the forest. A devious plot
for our throne. More like an irresponsible son wasting my time
gallivanting over to the Kingdom of Ourthuro when he was needed at
home. Needed for the one thing he was born to do—gift the throne to
someone who deserves it. Someone who will use his power wisely. Not
to sleep his way around the kingdom and pretend to be a hero."

"Whylfrick!" His mother gasped. For a
moment, he softened, hearing her voice, but then his eyes
narrowed.

"What do you have to say for yourself? To
your brother, the future king?"

Rhen opened his mouth, ready to let
apologies spill from his lips, but then he paused. The words
stopped, clogging his throat as though they refused to be said. He
had apologized too many times. And this time, Rhen had been right.
It was the first time in his life that he had more to offer than a
lame excuse, than a lie. He finally had real information. And his
father refused to pay attention, to think for a minute that Rhen
could maybe be more than a disappointment.

He stepped forward, stance strong, fueled by
anger.

"I've been gathering information. I've been
tracking our enemies, keeping my eyes and ears open. I've been
doing the one thing you've been afraid to do ever since Whyllysle
died, ever since…" His eyes unwittingly flicked toward his mother,
by accident, on instinct. The king's pupils expanded, turning his
eyes black with fury. It was as close as they had ever come to
their unspoken secret, and it was as close as Rhen was willing to
get. He looked away, wishing to take it back.

King Whylfrick stood, leaping down the steps
to grab Rhen by his throat. Over his shoulder, Jin sucked in a
breath, but Rhen held his, refusing to yield, to show weakness.

His father pulled him close, breathing
heavily while his face reddened, and shook him painfully. Rhen bit
his lip, refused to blink even as his eyes stung.

He had never seen his father like this.
Angry, yes. Hurtful, yes. But now he seemed beyond thought. His
nostrils flared. His face twisted in a grimace. His eyes clouded
over, retreating to somewhere Rhen couldn't follow. And his fingers
tightened, squeezing the air from his son's body.

Protests filtered into Rhen's hearing, but
they were dulled by the pounding thuds hammering his ears. His
vision started to spot. But he would not, could not, fight his
father. He just wanted to make him listen, to make him
understand…

Without warning, Rhen dropped to the ground.
His legs gave out and he fell fast. Flipping over, he coughed,
heaving until he could breathe normally, without pressure on his
chest.

Glittered brown swished into his vision, the
folds of a voluminous dress.

Rhen looked up to find his mother hanging on
his father's arm, her hand cupping his cheek, her lips whispering
softly into his ear.

Slowly, the color drained from the king's
face, returning it to a normal pale peach. The fog retreated. His
mouth dropped open and his eyes sharpened, slipping down, down,
down, until they met Rhen's.

Haunted.

That was the only way Rhen could describe
the gaze.

Haunted.

Without a word, his father stormed from the
room. His mother leaned down, kissed the top of his head, and
chased after her husband.

A hand slipped into view. A brown hand,
naturally tanned, small, familiar. Rhen grabbed it, refusing to
acknowledge the pity on his friend's face. Instead, he closed his
eyes, and then opened them wide, turning to his brothers with a
fake smile and an unnaturally cheerful voice.

"So, can I hold him?"

Awenine stood quickly, rushed over to Rhen
with concern, and offered him the child.

"My nephew," Rhen sighed, taking the small
bundle into his bulky arms. He couldn’t believe how tiny the infant
was, barely the length of his forearm. But he looked perfect, with
eyes closed tight in sleep despite the chaos that had just
occurred. A knot uncurled in Rhen's chest. It was worth it.
Everything. A real smile spread across his lips, untainted and
true. "Have you named him? Can I get a preview?"

"The rest of the kingdom has been waiting
for a week," Whyltarin said, stepping closer. "I think you can wait
for a day. Father started the preparations. The Naming will be
tomorrow morning at first light."

Rhen handed the child back to Awenine before
turning sheepishly toward Whyltarin. "I'm sorry for the delay,
Tarin." Somehow apologizing to his brother was easy.

"In truth," his eldest brother said,
shrugging, "I think the lords were all too eager to eat the king's
food and drink his wine. They'll likely be disappointed that it
didn’t take you longer."

"Some are likely disappointed I even showed
at all," Rhen said, unable to hide the weight in his tone.

Tarin reached out, placing a thick hand on
his shoulder, squeezing gently.

"I'm sorry for father. He acted out of line
today, worse than I've ever seen. You've always been able to get
under his skin, but he does love you, Rhen. Don't forget that."

"He's got a fine way of showing it."

Tarin opened his mouth, but Rhen cut him
off. He had no mind to hear any excuses for the king, a man old
enough to behave himself. Besides, Tarin didn’t know the same king
that Rhen did. His brothers would never understand—their father had
been a different man—happier, prouder, more loving. What a
difference half a decade could make.

"I have news, real news I meant to tell
father, but I must tell you. Tarin, Whyllem." He looked farther
back at his other brother. "I went to Ourthuro. King Razzaq tried
to have me killed, and he almost succeeded. Captain Pygott is dead,
as is his entire crew, and the only reason I survived is the boy
standing next to me. His name is Jin, and," Rhen paused, flicking
his eyes at the boy, "he is the last of the Arpapajo people.
Everyone else was killed in an Ourthuri raid."

He knew it was a lie, but it was easier than
the truth. Especially considering that Rhen didn’t even know what
the truth was. All he knew was that his brothers would not believe
in some shadow figure, but they would hopefully believe in an
attack by a known enemy.

"Rhen," Tarin sighed. Rhen knew exactly what
that exasperated exhale meant.

"Tarin—" He stepped forward, grasping his
oldest brother's broad shoulders. "You must believe me. I would
never lie about something like this—please. I've been following
information for months, truly, that is what I've been doing. And I
finally uncovered a plot against us. King Razzaq is planning to
attack, and I believe it will be very soon while all of the nobles
are in Rayfort, distracted. He'll start with the outer cities
before working his way here, to the capital."

Tarin squinted and looked to his right, to
Whyllem, to the future hand of the king—the brother he never
questioned.

Rhen's heart dropped along with his
hands.

He stepped back, watching his brothers
engage in an unspoken conversation, until Whyllem stepped
forward.

"I believe you, Rhen." He stopped, running a
hand through his hair. "I don't know why King Razzaq would do this,
what motive he has, especially when he knows it is a war he cannot
hope to win, but I do believe you."

A weight lifted. Rhen's entire body felt
light.

"As do I," Tarin added, his voice deep like
their father's, commanding like a king's should be.

"Then we must act, immediately. Notify the
lords, talk to father, spe—"

"Rhen," Tarin interrupted, "I believe you,
but that does not mean I will shout a war cry from the castle
walls. I will speak with father tonight, but the Naming is tomorrow
and that must be our priority. The lords cannot be distracted with
talk of battles, by fear for their homes. All focus must be on
naming my son the future king of Whylkin, on securing the bloodline
and the throne. Once the ceremony is complete, we will discuss our
options."

"But there is no time to wait!" Rhen stepped
forward, pleading. A sense of urgency crept into his blood.
Somehow, Rhen knew waiting would mean disaster. He felt it in his
bones.

Whyllem stepped forward, shaking his head.
"Rhen, that is enough for now. Find your friend a room, clean
yourself up, and meet us in the great hall for dinner."

He opened his mouth one more time, but then
shut it. There was no use. It would always be two against one with
them.

Instead, he nodded, trying to ignore the
sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Welcome home, brother, and welcome to
Rayfort, Jin," Tarin said, but he was distracted, looking over his
shoulder at the baby waking up in his wife's arms. "Come, Awenine,
let's prepare for supper." She kissed Rhen on the cheek, welcoming
him back, before leaving the throne room.

Whyllem crept up behind Rhen, throwing an
arm over his shoulder and roughing up his hair. "I'm glad you're
home, little brother. Tarin's been a bore ever since he became a
father. He thinks I should settle down. I wouldn’t be surprised if
he and the king were working out a bridal arrangement for me right
now, what with so many of the noble families in town."

Rhen faked a grin and raised an eyebrow.
"Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?"

"I knew I could count on you. After dinner,
we'll see what sort of fun we can find—outside the wall." He winked
and pulled back, releasing his hold on Rhen. "Welcome to the King's
City, Jin." He nodded politely, not sparing a second glance at the
boy. "Tonight," he added, emphasizing one more time for Rhen.

"Tonight," Rhen agreed. Tarin had always
been the rule follower. But Whyllem, like Rhen, enjoyed pushing the
limits. Unlike Rhen, he never seemed to get in trouble for it.

With a sigh, Rhen turned toward a stunned
Jin. "So, that's my family." He shrugged. "Let's find a servant who
will show you to a room. I'll come get you tomorrow as soon as the
ceremony is over, and then your real introduction to Rayfort can
begin."

The boy nodded, but Rhen noticed a
sullenness sink into his gaze. His irises darkened. His brows
twitched. Even his smile seemed weak and untrue. Something was
bothering Jin, something he wasn't voicing.

But for once, Rhen decided he had enough to
worry about already. Jin could wait a day.

The Naming? The Ourthuri? Those were
immediate concerns, ones his gut was telling him he could not
ignore, not even until tomorrow.

War was coming. It was imminent. And more
than anything, Rhen knew there was something he was missing. Some
piece of the puzzle that he hadn’t seen. The most dangerous
part.

And he had one night to figure it out.

One night before the world came crashing
down around him.

17

Jinji

~ Rayfort ~

Jinji sat up, watching the sky gradually turn
lavender, feeling the minutes tick by as her mind continued to
race.

She sighed, resigned.

Sleep was far off and not coming anytime
soon.

Crawling out from the covers of a bed that
was far too soft to be comfortable, she sank into a bench beside
the window, taking in the full view of the city below her. Painted
in pastels, it seemed less daunting.

All night she had been ruminating over her
decision to leave. All night she had been going back and forth and
more than anything, that scared her. It shouldn't be so hard to
leave this place, or that man, behind.