The Spirit Heir (17 page)

"We are," he affirmed, voice solid. He would not be alive if this woman had not helped save his life. His family would not be alive if she had not helped in his escape from Da'astiku. And more than anything, he knew Jinji trusted her—which meant he would trust her too.

Whyllem stepped forward, accepting Rhen's words. His posture held more authority than Rhen ever remembered seeing, as though suddenly his brother was accepting the role of king regent in a way he never had before. "Then allow me to be blunt. Can you help us win this war?"

"A dear friend of mine was able to gather information for me before I left. It is not much, but I pray that it will help."

"Anything will."

She paused, taking a deep breath. Everything up to now had been hypothetical, Rhen realized—she dreamt of working against her father, dallied in minor rebellions like saving him, other things he would likely never know. But right now, betraying secrets that would get her kingdom's army killed, now she truly was a traitor.

If she could follow through.

And she did.

"My father seeks an attack by sea above all else," she said, voice deep but not weak, not wavering. Once the words began, they tumbled out in earnest. "At least fifty ships wait in Da'astiku, leaving in a week's time if my information is correct. They will travel through the Straits, directing their attack on Rayfort. The lords of your homeland are camped outside, but they are not to engage until my father's ships arrive, until you are surrounded. And then the siege will begin in earnest, not ending, not slowing until the entire city is leveled or the family of Whyl has surrendered."

Rhen narrowed his gaze, prepared to ask a question when Whyllem interrupted, beating him to the words.

"How do they plan to make it through the Straits unharmed? A third of our army waits on those cliffs, ready to attack from above."

"I know." Leena nodded, turning a sorry look on both brothers. "My father knows and they expect your men to be there. Only half of the land army waits outside your walls, and the other half was sent to resecure the Straits so the Ourthuri ships could pass freely. I'm not sure when they will arrive, but I expect it will be soon. And with the cliffs at their back, your men will be surrounded. Knowing what I know of this kingdom, I doubt they will die without a fight—but they will die eventually."

Whyllem cursed under his breath, soft enough so Rhen could not make out the word, but he was pretty sure it was the same one rolling off of his lips. Outnumbered. Outthought. Out…everything.

Did they have any chance of winning this war? Did they ever?

"Rhen," his brother murmured, sounding loud in the deafening silence, "please take the princess to her new home and then meet me in the throne room. I need a few minutes alone to think."

"I will, brother," Rhen said, speaking to Whyllem's back as the king regent slipped free of the cell—but not free of his responsibility. "Follow me, Leena."

She did, quietly.

No words were exchanged as Rhen led her outside, across the courtyard, pausing only to inform the guards that the princess was no longer their prisoner, but a guest, and they would do well to spread the word before he gave someone else a broken nose.

The nobles inside the castle paused, eyeing the girl openly as they passed with glares full of hatred and contempt. Gazes dropped to the tattoos freely displayed on her arms, black ink that was hard to miss, especially when the gown she wore was cut in her homeland's style—sleeveless. Rhen got his fair share of angry stares too—for carting another foreign woman around the castle, for showing an enemy kindness, for ignoring the perfectly acceptable ladies of the court standing all around him.

But the crowd thinned as they neared the guest corridor, and it wasn't long before the two of them came to a stop beside an open door.

"These will be your rooms, Leena," he said and motioned for her to enter. "A servant will be here shortly to help with anything you might need."

As the princess walked past, Rhen noticed for the first time how different she was—how the people of his city might see her. The green hints in her complexion. The brands along her arms. The deep ebony shade of her long hair, still dripping with seawater, making it shine. Leena was taller than Jinji and narrow, yet graced with curves. She would never pass for a boy, not in the same way, especially not with her large brown eyes, just a bit too big for her face but more beautiful that way. Back in Ourthuro, draped in the golden silks and sparkling jewels of her homeland, she was probably a marvel to behold.

But here in Whylkin, Rhen felt nothing but sympathy.

"It will get easier," he said suddenly, unsure what sadness weighed on her heart, but knowing it was there and it was still raw.

Leena paused in the doorway, gaze almost even with his. "How do you know that, Son of Whyl?"

"Because…" he shrugged, thoughts drifting to Jinji, the strongest person he knew. "It has to."

The princess smiled again, but it was weak, halfway to a frown as she shook her head. "No, it doesn’t, Prince Whylrhen, things can always get worse. But you are right in a way—it will get easier. I know that in my heart."

"How?" Rhen asked, searching for the secret behind her words, sensing it was the key to his own future, his own happiness.

"Because I'm in love with an amazing man. And though he is now no more than ash in the wind, his memory gives me the strength to do what I must."

And with that, Leena shut the door in his face, leaving Rhen no explanation, just a knot in the pit of his stomach. He was so close—to what, he wasn't sure, but something important, something the princess understood, something that would open his eyes.

Against his will, Rhen's head shifted to the left, down the hall to another wooden door closed against him.

Jinji.

Her rooms were just fifteen feet farther down the guest hall, barely out of reach. More than anything, he wished to look into her warm, golden glittered eyes and see if they held the answers he searched for. But far away in the throne room, his brother waited for him, his kingdom needed him, and matters of the heart could wait.

At least, he hoped so.

Squeezing his fists, Rhen turned in the opposite direction, marching heavy feet toward his family and toward duty.

A few minutes later, he passed through the open doors of the throne room, breath skipping as it always did upon entering this space. The vaulted ceilings towered no less than a hundred feet overhead, arches folding over one another, falling in pristine white columns to the floor. Sun poured through the glass wall at the end of the room, silhouetting the carved stone throne, hiding the man who sat upon it in shadow. And beyond the glass, Rayfort was a wonder to behold—the colorful mix of tiles and stone roofs, the crystal cerulean waters of the White Stone Sea. The jagged peaks of the Gates were visible in the perfectly clear sky.

"Rhen," Whyllem called.

Walking farther into the room, he searched for his brother underneath the shade obscuring the throne. As the angle of the sun shifted, bringing his brother's image into perfect clarity, Rhen gasped.

Never before had he looked so much like their father.

It was more than his brilliant red hair, stark against the white stone behind his back. More than the grooves cutting across his forehead, aging him. More than the red cape draped over his shoulders, cascading to the floor. It was the power in his voice, the breadth of his stature, the way Rhen felt suddenly small in his presence.

"Rhen," Whyllem said again, quieter now. "I realized something today, as we stood on the wall facing enemy fire, as everyone looked to me for orders, turned to me for direction. Tarin is gone and he's never coming back."

Rhen scrunched his brows, waiting as Whyllem dropped his lids closed, squeezing tight for a brief moment.

"I knew he was dead," Whyllem said, voice strained. "I knew I was named king regent, to rule in his stead. I knew all of those things. But until today, looking my future straight in the eyes, I didn't truly know what it meant. I didn’t understand what it was to be a leader. But I do now and I promise, I will never freeze again. I'm ready."

Rhen sighed, running a hand through his hair, struggling against the burn behind his eyes. "I know you are."

"Good, because I'm going to ask you to do something and I'm confident you won't like it."

Rhen frowned. "'What?"

"Leave Rayfort."

His stomach dropped, plummeting, replaced by a painful void as every nerve in his body flared to life. Stepping forward, Rhen shook his head, fumbling for words. "No, Whyllem…no…I won't…"

Whyllem lifted his hand for silence. Against his instincts, Rhen obeyed his king. "I'm not asking, Rhen, and I'm sorry. I've been selfish delaying this for so long, because I did not want to lose the only brother I have left. But Whyllean is too young to be away from his mother, and I am king regent, I cannot leave. You, though, you can escape while there is still time. You can keep the bloodline alive."

Hardening his gaze, Rhen crossed his arms. "You speak as though we have already lost. As though hope is gone."

"No, Rhen, I speak the truth," Whyllem said. The pity in his gaze was hard to miss. "You have always lived in dreams, brother, that is why we all love you. But here are the facts. An army far larger than ours waits outside the gates. Another roams the cliffs, obliterating our first line of defense. And a third will arrive by ship soon enough. I will lead the fight until there is no breath left in me, but there is a very large chance that I will fail. And if I do, the city is lost. But if you escape, then in a small way, we will have won."

"But…but," he stammered, grasping for denial, grasping for an argument. "What about the Lord of Fire? I am giving the people hope. I am helping in ways that no one else in the world could."

"And you have been wonderful," Whyllem agreed, "but that time is over. You told me before that you cannot wield the fire, that you cannot manipulate it. So when the armies really attack, what will the Lord of Fire do? When the people call for him to blanket our enemies in flames, shout that the Lord of Fire will save them, what then?"

"I'll do what I can," Rhen murmured as a vise closed around his heart.

But his brother was relentless as he continued, drawing an even grimmer picture with his words. "When the people see their prayers go unanswered, see that their Lord of Fire cannot single-handedly defeat our enemies, watch as their friends die around them—in those moments, their hope will fall lower than it’s ever been, and it will break them."

Rhen refused to give in, to give up. "And what will you tell them when I leave? How will you keep their hope alive when they realize I ran away, that even the Lord of Fire believes the city is doomed?"

Crossing his hands in his lap, Whyllem delivered the final blow. "I'm going to tell them that their Lord of Fire, their savior, has been sent on a mission, sent to find a weapon that will protect us all. That way, even in the darkest hour of the battle, when all is lost, the people will still have hope, will still believe you might save them."

"That is cruel, Whyllem," Rhen whispered, voice grave as he stared at a brother he hardly recognized. Is this what power did to people? Changed them in the blink of an eye?

"Kings are cruel, Rhen, they have to be when the fate of their kingdom is on the line."

"No, they don't," he said softly, but loud enough to make his brother wince.

Whyllem swallowed, sitting taller. "You'll leave tomorrow morning, before dawn while the cover of darkness still holds. I'm going to prepare a ship big enough for two, so you will not be alone. But the vessel will be small enough to escape attention."

He paused, waiting for Rhen to object, to protest. But Rhen just hung his head, defeated. Whyllem was king, and there was little he could do against that, even as the Lord of Fire. If Whyllem told the guards to throw him out the front gate and lock the door, they would. If he told them to tie him up and sail him across the sea, they would. If he tried to hide within the city, the people would see him, would lose hope to see their prince brought so low. So Rhen would give in, just this once, to what his king commanded.

He would hold his honor.

He would do as he was told.

"Where should I go?" he asked, hating the way his words dripped with defeat.

Whyllem stood, placing a hand on Rhen's shoulder, affectionate as though he hated his plan too. "To Airedale, to Brython. Anywhere but here. I will provide supplies to change your appearance. Dyes for your hair, scissors to cut it short, the clothes of a peasant. Carry your royal seal with you as a sign of your true birthright, but starting tomorrow, you will no longer be a prince. You will be a fugitive. King Razzaq will never stop hunting you. So use the normal life you always wanted as a cover, and above all else, live."

Rhen dropped his head, letting it hang for a moment as he fought for control over his racing pulse. What would it be like to leave his family to their doom, to never stop running? To keep going and going, with no end, no purpose in sight?

Air caught in his throat, stuck, clogging his brain, making him feel dizzy. But there was one thought that granted him a brief moment of reprieve, a quick second to catch his breath. Whyllem had said the boat would be large enough for two.

"I'm bringing Lady Jinji with me," Rhen said. As soon as the words came out, they felt right, meant to be. A sense of peace settled on his limbs, out of place against the turmoil in his mind.

Jinji could weave illusions. Jinji could keep them hidden for the rest of their lives. Jinji had a quest he could latch onto, the search for the shadow, a reason to persevere. And though he did not want to admit it, Rhen just couldn't imagine his future without her.

"I assumed as much," Whyllem told him, offering no protest, just veiled consent.

"And what of the princess? We just promised her safe haven?"

Whyllem shrugged. "It was her choice to look for safe haven here, her choice even though she knew her father's plan. I will offer her a boat and supplies, but there is little else we can do."