The Shadow Soul (29 page)

Her family—the very reason she had to leave.

Jinji hugged her knees to her chest, groaning as her argument came full circle for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

But the night was over, and it was time to choose. The sun crept ever higher, burning the sky blue, and if she didn’t leave now, Jinji wasn't sure she would ever be able to.

Closing her eyes tight, her heart wincing, Jinji quickly stood and grabbed her boots.

There was no choice. The shadow was her destiny—she had no option but to defeat it. Her soul would never feel peace until it was gone, unable to take another human life or break another human heart.

Before she could question herself yet again, Jinji opened the door.

Then stopped dead.

Rhen stood before her, hand poised to knock, a look of surprise coloring his features. His eyes were dark with drowsiness, but his skin was clean and polished, better than she had ever seen it. His hair had been neatly cut and his face perfectly shaved. His clothes glittered with jewels.

For the first time, Rhen really looked like a prince to her. Out of reach.

"Going somewhere?" He smirked, crossing his arms to lean against the doorway. Caught in the act, Jinji stood dumbstruck, unsure of what to say. "In truth," Rhen continued, completely oblivious, "I wish I could go exploring with you, but the ceremony is about to begin and I cannot be late, well, later than I already am."

Jinji smiled weakly. But her tongue was still stuck, unable to speak. A pinch suffocated her heart at the sight of him so unaware.

Rhen waited for her to speak, then shrugged. "Anyway, I was out half the night searching for anything that seemed out of the ordinary, but I found nothing. No mention of the Ourthuri and no mention of a shadow. I thought you would want to know."

"I do, thank you," Jinji said softly, her chin tucked into her neck.

He raised his brows, noticing something was off. But just as Rhen opened his mouth, a horn sounded down the halls. Face scrunching in annoyance, he cursed.

"I have to go."

"I know," Jin said, holding back the goodbye trying to force its way out.

"I'll see you afterward, tonight. I know of a tavern you'll love. It's no Staggering Vixen, but…" He trailed off with a wink.

"Go," Jinji pushed him, unsure if the catch in her throat was a cry or a laugh. Either way, it didn't matter.

Without looking back, Rhen turned down the hall. Jinji watched until he disappeared around the corner.

"Goodbye," she whispered, waiting a few more heartbeats to catch her breath.

People appeared in the hall, moving in and out of view, making their way toward the ceremony. Most spared a quick, confused glance at Jinji. But she could barely see more than the shimmer of their fine garb, the swish of a full skirt, or the click of a solid boot.

She was too busy pushing thoughts of Rhen from her mind; too busy replacing them with memories of her family.

After one last deep breath, she stepped free of the wall and made her way aimlessly down the corridor, searching for some sign of an exit.

The castle seemed empty. White and barren.

All she really had to do was follow the silence, and eventually, after many turns and many steps, Jinji came to a door that opened onto a green courtyard.

Following a trodden dirt path, she was led to an archway through the white wall into rows of endless townhouses.

And that led to utter confusion.

Just like the castle, the streets were barren. Jinji remembered Rhen mentioning that this second tier was the noble quarters—nobles who were no doubt at the ceremony. But unlike the castle, the silence didn't help.

Rhen had said this city was a maze, and Jinji believed him. After a few turns, she was completely lost. Each stone house looked the same. Each street curved around the next, removing any sense of direction. But there was no one around to ask for help. More than once, she came upon a closed wall, a dead end, and had to turn around.

Looking up, Jinji saw that the sun had already neared the center of the sky, and she was no closer to finding a way out. She had spent hours running through the streets, in circles. It was almost as though the city didn’t want her to leave.

Finally, she stopped, panting.

Her silken shirt stuck to her skin, her pants felt tight for the first time and her feet ached.

Leaving was the right choice. It had to be…

A sound clicked in Jinji's ears.

She looked up and the spirits entered her vision.

It was sign. A sense of peace filtered into her heart for the first time that morning.

Following the noise, her eyes focused on the street corner to her right. At first, she didn't realize what the tapping could be, but then a long brown snout came into view, followed by a shaggy neck, and a harnessed torso, until the entire horse and its cargo emerged.

An old woman held the reins, humming while she urged the animal forward. A halo of green surrounded her figure—earth spirits, woven like vines to her limbs.

Jinji stepped out of her shady spot, holding her hands aloft.

"Please," she said, hope infused in her tone, "please, I am lost and need help getting out of the city."

"Whoa," the woman said, gently bringing the cart to a stop, pulling up almost directly beside Jinji. The woman looked her up and down, squinting and crinkling her nose. "Not in trouble, are you?" A nasal voice asked, thickly accented.

"No." Jinji dropped her hands and shook her head. "Just a lost traveler in need of assistance."

The woman leaned forward, sniffing the air. "Alright, get in." She shifted in her seat, moving slightly so Jinji could step up next to her on the bench.

The woman smelled of the earth, like dirt and grass after a fresh rain.

"I can take you as far as the market, no farther. I have to sell my vegetables, the ones the castle didn’t want for their fine banquet, full of it they are."

"Thank you," Jinji mumbled, settling into her seat, feeling uncomfortable under the woman's sharp gaze.

"You've got some nice clothes," she said, touching Jinji's arm, leaving brown spots on her white shirt, "very fine indeed."

Jinji shrugged, looking away, wondering what the spirits were actually trying to tell her. But the silence paid off, because the woman kept talking.

"The name's Elga, short for Remelga, but that was my mother's name, rest her soul." She jerked on the reins and the horse trudged forward again, pulling the weight of the cart very slowly behind. But it was a direction, the right direction, and that was all that mattered to Jinji.

Elga looked ahead, watching the road, but kept chattering. "I work in the fields outside the walls, have all my life. My husband is too old to sell anymore, so I come in, do his work, little money that it is. Castle takes all the good crop, leaving barely anything left to bring to the market. But the people still buy it, and I take whatever money they can offer. They love my vegetables; best there are everyone tells me. The plants love me, that's what they say. Silly, isn't it? Thinking like that, but that's what they say."

"I don't think it's silly," Jinji said softly, almost surprising herself, but the words popped out, beyond her control.

Elga smiled and the somewhat wary tilt to her gaze disappeared. She leaned in. "That's what I tell my husband, but he says to stay quiet. To mind my tongue, little help it gives me. Talk like that is dangerous, he says, gets people hurt—killed these days."

Jinji turned sharply toward Elga, eyes widening.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh nothing, nothing, I really shouldn't." She bit her wrinkled lips, fighting the urge to speak. 

"Please," Jinji said breathily. Her heart quickened. Her grip on the seat below her tightened. She was on the verge of discovering something—she could feel it.

Elga looked over, lips pursed, and then leaned closer. "Well, people have been noticing odd disappearances, deaths even, but it's real hush, hush. They say it’s the king, that he's killing off people who might be, well… But not me, bless the spirits. King Whylfrick would never do nothing like that, he's a good man."

"It's not the king." Jinji frowned. Was this really happening? After so long, had she really just fallen into the answers? All this time, could the spirits have been waiting for her to get the courage to leave Rhen, to follow her own path?

Elga straightened quickly, eyeing Jinji with caution, her old brown eyes lightening with wisdom.

"Course not, that's what I said," she spoke louder, pushing the words out onto the street before her, "King Whylfrick loves his people, he would never."

"People who might be what?" Jinji asked, still stuck on Elga's previous words. What had the woman meant? Was it the ramblings of a crazy person, or was it the answer Jinji had been searching for all along?

But Elga shook her head, using her voice to urge her horse onward.

The streets had grown busier, louder. They had moved through the second wall without Jinji realizing. The people around here wore dull garments of thick wool, dark brown and black with none of the fineries Jinji had almost grown accustomed to seeing. Men stumbled around, holding cups aloft. Their faces were red, eyes glassy. It reminded Jinji of the tavern Rhen had taken her to so long ago. Madness.

Voices rose over the crowd singing songs that Jinji didn’t recognize. The lyrics spoke of Whyl the Conqueror.

And that's when she realized that the people were celebrating. The nobles had the Naming Ceremony, locked behind their walls standing in formal processions, and the city had this—chaos.

Jinji focused on Elga, noticing that the woman was determinedly not opening her mouth.

"Please, people who might be what?" Jinji repeated, pleading.

But instead of answering, Elga pulled hard on the reins, muttering something under her breath—
big mouth, trouble
, and other words Jinji couldn't make out.

"I'm sorry, boy, but I can't say, now run along, I—I have to go back, I left something that my husband won't forgive me losing, his favorite blanket you see, and I need to get it."

"Elga," Jinji urged, reaching for the woman's arm, but she was swatted away.

"Now go," she said louder. "I said leave. Get off my cart and go!"

Men turned, hearing the shriek in the woman's voice. They narrowed their gazes on Jinji, taking a second too long to try to place her clothes and her darker skin. One man stepped forward, eyeing her with distrust, a big drink sloshing in his hand.

For the first time since Roninhythe, Jinji felt different. Her skin crawled under their lead gazes.

"Who are you boy?" One man asked, his voice deep and slurred.

"Where are you from?" Another asked.

"Where'd you get those clothes?" Still a third pressed.

More turned, eyes brightening at the sign of a commotion. The energy shifted, darkened, narrowed on her until it felt suffocating.

Elga continued to yell nonsense, even after Jinji had slipped from the cart, landing hard on the uneven cobblestones.

A hand gripped her sleeve, pinching her skin.

Without turning to see who it was, Jinji ran, wincing at the sound of cloth ripping. She looked down at the tattered shreds of her shirt, gone from the elbow down, torn free. Her arm was thin and womanly, not bulging with muscles. She kept moving, praying no one noticed. Praying to the spirits that she moved fast enough for the rest of her clothes to stay intact.

Jinji remembered what her father had told her. Old lessons died hard. And she knew without a doubt that it was much safer to be a boy in this world than it was to be a girl, especially a copper-skinned girl that no one could lay claim to—not even the man she would name her only friend.

Shouts followed in her wake, urging her forward.

Turning down a street, she risked a glance over her shoulder, cringing as an angry crowd came into view behind her. Four men in hot pursuit.

Jinji pivoted to the left, down another street, then to the right, to the left—not caring as she dove deeper into the maze of the city. As long as the cries behind her grew quieter, she knew she had traveled in the right direction.

But there was one problem, they weren't disappearing.

Jinji looked back again, but no one was there. Just ghostly voices, still yelling after her. She kept looking behind, waiting for someone to appear, to recognize her, to—

Jinji cried out as her body smacked into stone and her wrist crunched, caught between the wall and her body.

Dropping to the ground, her vision blurred. She blinked into the growing darkness, trying to dissipate it, hearing the voices raise ever louder. Seeing gray blocks of rough rock, Jinji flung an illusion in front of her, praying to the spirits that it looked enough like the wall she had run into—the one she still couldn’t properly see.

Moments later, the men ran into view, huffing, surveying the dead end with the intelligence of natives, of those who had lived there for years.

As her eyesight cleared, Jinji tried to slow her breath, to quiet it. The pain in her wrist seethed out, spreading up her arm. She shifted back, wincing as her boots scudded on the dirt covered side street, stopping when her spine met resistance. Even though the illusion hid her, Jinji felt exposed. She hugged her knees closer, pulling the shirt down as far as it would go, hiding the skin that differentiated her—skin that she had never before felt the need to conceal.

Tears came unbidden, slipping down her cheeks, and her body started to shake as shock set in.

Fear. It crept down her body, strong as any she had ever felt before. Fear of a world she had never experienced alone—a world she didn't like.

The four men walked closer, confused, and then stopped. One man complained that his drink was gone. Another agreed. The third one shrugged. And the leader, taking one last look at the wall—at the illusion Jinji knew was far from perfect—spat on the mud, then turned his back to her.

It wasn't until they disappeared around a building that Jinji let herself relax, let a sigh of relief ease from her lips. But she kept the illusion up, a safety net until she regained her poise.