The Shadow Soul (27 page)

He stepped off the ship onto the wooden planks of the dock.

Rayfort.

He had arrived, hopefully in time to make a difference.

Looking around, Rhen searched for red in the crowd. No king's guards, at least not yet. But they would come to escort him—there was no way he would escape that torture.

Although…

He walked forward, knowing Jin would follow behind. He had already thanked Captain Jelaric for his services, and once he arrived at the castle, Rhen would send a handsome reward. There was little reason to wait there like an idiot, especially when he had urgent news for his father. Perhaps he could find a horse to borrow, leave before the guards even arrived.

A scream sounded on the wind.

Another.

Thunderous steps boomed in Rhen's ears.

He grinned.

It could only mean one thing.

A furious neigh cut through the shouts. And then, careening around the corner of the walk, there was a flash of red blurred by speed. 

Ember.

Warmth surged in Rhen's chest, sprinkling down his limbs, comforting and exciting. His arms opened wide and a laugh spilled from his lips as he walked forward, trying to meet her halfway.

"Easy, girl," he shouted, trying to calm her from afar, knowing it was a long shot.

She charged through the sailors, almost shoving one man into the water, until a few feet short of Rhen, she came to a dead halt.

Rhen sighed and rolled his eyes. So this was how she was going to play it.

He stepped forward, smiling with arms wide.

She stepped back, stomping her right foot hard against the wood and shaking her head with a whining neigh. 

He tried again, moving forward very slowly.

She jumped onto her hind legs, rearing and throwing her front feet forward.

"Ember!" Rhen gasped.

She stomped again.

"My Lord, stay back," one of the guards came running from behind.

"Stop!" Rhen shouted at the man, knowing that Ember would have no shame kicking him with her hind leg if he got too close. He had trained her, after all. "She is my horse. I do not want anyone interfering."

The guard nodded, keeping his distance. But he still looked far too ready to pounce.

Rhen tried stepping forward again. Ember looked at him, squinting with her one eye.

He tried to reason with her. "I know you're mad, but I'm sorry. You couldn't come with me. The open ocean is no place for a horse. You barely even like walking through a deep stream."

She sneezed, slobbering all over his face.

Rhen frowned, exasperated, determined not to move another inch. They stared at each other, each more stubborn by the second, until finally Ember threw her head to the side, breaking contact, and letting Rhen win.

She dipped her nose, hanging it a little low, and stepped forward into Rhen's waiting arms. He hugged her thick neck, rubbing the red hairs flat as her breathing slowed. Reaching up with his left hand, Rhen felt along the side of her face, running his fingers down the length of her muzzle until she sighed and relaxed. Then Rhen gently scratched the diamond puff of white hairs between her eyes. She pushed her head closer, letting him know everything had been forgiven.

"Good girl," he cooed. "Now what do you say we go for a ride?"

Her ears perked.

"You remember Jin, right, Ember?" He turned, spotting Jin closer to the ship. The boy looked on with a soft smile and warm eyes, with a feeling Rhen couldn’t quite place.

He shrugged, no matter, and motioned for Jin to walk over.

"Hello, Ember," Jin said, hesitant, and then reached out his hand. Rhen almost swatted it away, afraid she would bite, but instead his horse moved closer, rubbing the tip of her nose against the outstretched palm. Rhen smirked. Getting Ember's approval was no small feat, and the boy had done it twice. Jin would do fine in Rayfort. Better than fine.

Grabbing Ember's saddle, Rhen jumped into the seat. He had missed her. The only woman who had really ever held his heart.

"Come on, Jin," he said, lightly tapping Ember's rear and outstretching his hand. The boy's eyes widened. "Come on, you rode her before in Roninhythe. There is nothing to be afraid of."

Jin nodded absentmindedly.

Rhen reached farther down, gripping the boy's hand and pulling him up before another protest could be uttered. He had work to do, and there could be no more delays.

With a yelp, Jin settled in.

"Hold on." Rhen jerked on the reins. Jin gripped the top of Rhen's shoulders forcefully, rather than holding his torso, but Rhen let it go. If the boy wanted to fall on his butt, that was his problem.

"Prince Whylrhen," one of the guards yelled, but Rhen ignored him, urging Ember along and pushing his way through the crowd.

The people smiled at him, meeting his eyes before they bowed, yelling out praises and kind words on his return. Rhen smiled, waving, reaching down to touch some of their hands, tossing a few silver coins out of his purse, cracking jokes.

While his father and brothers remained in the castle, guarded and gated from the common people, Rhen had used them as the perfect escape. He was the third son, had fewer responsibilities, fewer expectations, and always worked on the reputation he had so carefully crafted since boyhood.

Instead of tending to matters of court, he visited local shops to buy goods and sat at local taverns to drink ale. And because he refused to stay hidden and locked away, the people loved him—which annoyed his siblings and father to no end.

During parades through the city, it was Whylrhen that was shouted above the others. The king believed it was purely due to gossip, to the fact that his name was on every father or elder brother's tongue…or every whore's. But Rhen knew it was more, so much more. He would never be one of them, of the common folk, but he was as close as they would ever get to royalty, and it was far closer than they had ever been before. 

So he let them touch his fingers, pet his horse, try to tell their life story in a short sentence, because it made them feel special and it made him feel connected to something larger. It was only after, when he passed through the white wall in the middle of the city and entered the noble quarters, that he felt alone, emptier for remembering that it was just another show, another character.

The streets were quieter here. Men and women bowed, careful to pay him due respect. The children didn't run free and wild, but instead stood carefully beside their families as was proper. The clothes were more colorful, more voluminous, but life seemed dampened somehow.

Rhen shifted in the saddle, nodding politely to everyone as they passed by, noticing a few curious looks at Jin—the Arpapajo. Did any of these people even remember that the oldworlders still lived? Northmore Forest was, after all, a long distance away. "What do you think of my city?" He asked Jin.

"It is very…large." The boy sounded overwhelmed, his voice was meek, almost ill. "I don't know how I will ever find my way out—I mean, around."

"No matter." Rhen shrugged. "I'll show you most of it. In a few weeks, it will feel like home. I know it. Besides, the city was built that way on purpose."

"Hmm?" Jin asked, thoughts clearly elsewhere. But Rhen tried to put himself in Jin's shoes—almost any situation was rightfully overwhelming for someone who had lived most of his life in one small portion of a forest, away from the outside world.

But for Rhen, muddy cobblestone streets lined with row after row of homes was just second nature. Likely taken for granted.

"The city was built as a maze. Many streets turn unexpectedly into dead ends, or spin in circles so you might be turned completely around without realizing it. Just another method of defense. But the natives, they know where to go. And new travelers are all the more obvious to the king's guard."

A horn sounded.

Surprised, Rhen looked up, right into the blinding façade of the castle wall. The stark white burned his eyes, but it felt good in a way.

The gates slowly started to open, cracking to reveal the lush green courtyard at the base of the castle, just behind its defensive wall. The stables stood a little farther to the left, out of sight, but the horses were sometimes allowed to roam freely. Not today. Today, the place seemed pure chaos. Servants scrambled back and forth, overloaded with baskets of food and laundry, and there were too many of them. Far more than usual.

Stepping through the now open gate, Rhen saw guards from noble houses all over the kingdom dressed in all different colors.

The Naming.

And Rhen was most definitely the last one to arrive.

Perfect
.

"Prince Whylrhen," he turned to see his father's courier bowed deeply, head nearly at the floor. "King Whylfrick would like to see you immediately, in the throne room."

"Of course he does," Rhen said under his breath. The whole reason he had returned was to warn his father of the imminent danger to the kingdom, but until that moment, he had forgotten that a lecture would surely come first.

There was always a lecture.

Always.

Louder, Rhen said, "Of course, Reynard, you can tell him I will be there immediately."

"Thank you, Prince Whylrhen." The man bowed his head once more before scurrying off. 

Rhen helped Jin down before sliding from the saddle.

"You'll probably want to stay behind me," he whispered to Jin, before making his way to the large stone steps at the front of the keep.

When he was halfway up the stairs, the guards pulled open the entrance—two wooden doors almost fifteen feet high and decorated with intricate iron lattices. Behind him, Jin gasped. Rhen grinned.

The castle was home. He was too used to these halls to be impressed, but it filled him with a sense of pride to hear Jin's reaction. And it was well deserved. The entry glistened with polished white stones, pearlescent in the daylight. Windows made of colored glass reflected around the small atrium, bouncing the four colors of the elements into overlaying patches. Giant tapestries depicting the red flag of Whylkin with its great bucking steed hung from the ceiling. And a grand staircase curved upward to the second level where the throne room sat.

Two servants manned the space, bowing as soon as they saw Rhen enter. He nodded and moved on, tugging Jin with him. Best not to keep his father waiting.

Hurrying up the steps, Rhen stepped into the long hall that led to the throne room—white walls decorated with expansive tapestries depicting the life of Whyl the Conqueror. Every battle, every victory, every milestone—everything history wanted to remember about his ancestor was written in threads, depicted through art.

Later, he told himself, later he would explain them to Jin, would tell him the stories. But for now they rushed through, walking briskly toward the wooden door at the end of the hall, already held open for him.

When Rhen entered the throne room, his breath caught. He had forgotten how majestic this space was—an inevitable side effect of avoiding the room at all costs. But he took one spare gaze to take it all in. The atrium was gigantic, at least four stories high and two to three times as long. Thick columns extended into the vaulted ceiling, crisscross woodwork danced above his head, and more tapestries lined the walls. There were no windows except for one—but what a window it was.

Rhen let his vision extend, moving down the center of the room until the sculpted stone throne of Whylkin filled his view. The seat itself was small, and occupied by a man whom he glossed over, but the throne was another thing entirely. Carved from one piece of rock, it was at least two men high and four men wide, decorated with impressions of humans, horses, and cityscapes.

And behind the throne rested a wall of glass revealing the most beautiful view of the city of Rayfort and the clear cerulean sea beyond the peninsula. On a clear day, the peaks of the Gates might be visible, a stack of pointed clouds piercing the sky.

"Whylrhen," a stern voice commanded.

Reverting back to his four-year-old self, Rhen winced and straightened his shoulders, standing as tall as possible while he gathered the courage to meet his father's eyes. Slowly, he started walking forward, listening as his boots clicked against the stone, echoing across the room.

The entire family was there, waiting for him. His mother, Queen Katrina, wearing a long bronze dress to match her eyes. His middle brother, Whyllem, slouched and relaxed. His eldest brother Whyltarin, with arms folded across his broad chest and feet planted wide. Just behind him, Awenine sat in a flowing blue gown, her blonde hair pinned elegantly atop her head. And in her arms, wrapped in a bright red swaddle, was Rhen's perfect little nephew—as yet unnamed, but the brilliant red hair poking out from the cloth named him a Son of Whyl in a way no words ever could.

Hair just like Whyltarin.

Just like Whyllem.

But mostly, just like King Whylfrick.

With a sigh, Rhen finally looked into his father's piercing gaze and stopped five feet back from everyone else. They would give no hugs until his father allowed it, though his mother offered a warm smile. Beside her, Whyllem offered a knowing grin and elbowed Whyltarin in the ribs, breaking their eldest brother's tough exterior. The two had always been close, a pair. At only one year apart, they spent six years together before Rhen was even born, a bond that was tough for a younger brother to crack.

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.