The Shadow Soul (28 page)

"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.

But it was.

For the past week, Jinji had believed that leaving Rhen with his family would be natural, would be a gift. After all, he loved them enough to risk his life seeking their protection, to devote his entire being to keeping them safe. He spoke the world of his brothers. He yearned to spend time with his nephew. This was his home, and he belonged here.

But yesterday, Jinji realized nothing could be further from the truth. Even now, she shuddered, her body convulsing at the memory of Rhen's father choking him until he turned red. Of his brothers watching and not taking a single step forward. Of his mother rushing forward out of concern for the king, not her son.

None of that was natural. Or loving. Or caring. And it left a sick feeling in her stomach to think of abandoning Rhen to these people who he loved with his entire being despite their negligence.

She thought of her father kissing her goodnight—a soft brush on the forehead when he believed she was asleep. Or her mother spending painstaking hours working on the dress for her joining. And even Janu, defending her to his last breath.

That was family.

That was her family, the one she promised to avenge, not to let die in vain.