A Dance of Dragons: Series Starter Bundle (18 page)

And if there were questions, well, he was
the prince—he'd think of something.

Taking a deep breath, Rhen counted to
three.

One.

Two.

On three, he tossed the rope high up, aiming
for an arrowslit in the wall.

Bull's-eye.

The sound of metal on stone rang in his
ears, just loud enough to float on the wind but not so much that it
was alarming.

Waiting a moment, Rhen watched the edge of
the wall, searching for a moving helmet or the swing of an arm.

All was clear.

He grinned.

With one sturdy tug on the rope, it was time
to climb.

And climb.

And climb.

No matter how many times he made the long
trek to the top, his arms always burned, his legs felt on fire. And
it was no different this time, as he slipped his hands over the top
stones and pulled himself fully onto castle grounds.

"Took you long enough, Prince Whylrhen," a
voice said.

"Cal!" Rhen turned, greeting his sullen
friend with a wide smirk.
Oh Cal.
He was still dressed in
court wear, a formal jewel-studded jacket with his best leather
pants and boots. Sword still at his waist. His brown hair was tied
back into the nape of his neck, and his brown eyes were glowing
with worry as they darted wildly around his surroundings. The only
still parts of his body were the arms crossed grumpily across his
chest.

Always adherent to the rules, Cal motioned
for Rhen to follow and harshly whispered, "Come on, the guards will
be back any minute. There are only so many emergencies I could
think of to drag them away."

"Did you set a pig loose in your father's
room?"

Cal rolled his eyes and stepped through a
narrow door in the stone, tired of Rhen's jokes already. Little did
he know that suggestion was serious—a dirty pig running around the
lord's bedchambers, a lord as pristine and proper as his son? The
entire castle would be in an uproar.

On the other side of the door was a stone
hallway, glowing with line after line of candlelight. Rhen flexed
his fingers, fighting the pull of the fires. The heat tickled his
skin, called for it. He clenched his fists, holding his hands
behind his back, and followed Cal a few feet down into the next
room on the right, Cal's bedchamber. It was draped with heavy
tapestries depicting knights on horseback, the ancestors of
Roninhythe. His walls sparkled with candlelight too, but it was
easier to manage, especially with the cool wind blowing through the
open windows, forcing the heat outdoors.

Rhen sat down in one of Cal's leather
chairs, sinking into the soft cushions, and let his head fall back.
This was what the forest was missing. A nice comfortable spot to
rest.

"Rough journey? Why were you so late getting
back? I was sure something had happened."

"Something did happen," Rhen said, looking
up. Cal sat in the chair opposite him and poured two glasses of
wine, nodding along—a signal he wanted more information. "I picked
up an Arpapajo, an oldworlder. He's a just a boy, but Cal, all of
them are gone."

His friend looked up sharply. "All of who,
Rhen?" Cal had slipped back to using his nickname—a sure sign Rhen
had been forgiven.

"The oldworlders. Wiped out, dead, with
their village burned to the ground. All except for one, a boy named
Jin who I brought to Roninhythe with me."

"But who would kill them? Who would
bother?"

"The Ourthuri."

Cal rolled his eyes for a second time.
"Rhen, with all due respect, you can't really think they would
travel all the way from the Golden Isles just to kill some natives
running around in animal skins waving around sticks."

Rhen jerked back, offset by the harsh
description. An ugly shudder ran down his arms. He had probably
heard similar things before, he'd probably said them, but Jin's
face popped into his mind—the lonely boy, the cunning boy, the
curious boy—all different facets of the person he had come to know.
No, the Arpapajo had been much more than oldworlders with sticks,
of that Rhen was sure.

"Calen," Rhen said, his voice low and
harsh—too harsh, he realized as Cal flinched, looking wounded. Rhen
took a deep breath, trying to pull back on the anger bubbling in
his veins. It was not his friend's fault, not entirely. "Cal," he
said, more gently but still with iron, "I saw them. I fought them.
The Ourthuri are here."

"Then we must notify the king
immediately."

"My thoughts exactly," Rhen said, drumming
his fingers on the table, waiting. After a moment, he sat up.
"Well, won't you get some paper? I just scaled a castle wall. I
wasn't exactly carrying a scroll and quill in my breeches."

"Right," Cal jumped up, moving into action.
He placed the supplies in front of Rhen on the table, but Rhen just
breathed heavily and pushed them across the table.

"Save me from another lecture from the king,
won't you? You of all people know I never paid attention during
calligraphy classes, not when the training yard was right below the
window."

"Got some good welts on the back of your
head for it too."

They grinned at each other, jumping back in
time for a moment, looking five years younger and far less
responsible.

"My dearest father," Cal said.

Rhen choked on his wine, about to furiously
correct Cal, when he saw the teasing glint in his eye.

He's spending too much time around
me
, Rhen thought, raising his eyebrows.

Cal coughed. "My King."

Rhen nodded, listening to the scratch of the
quill on parchment. As a boy, he had nightmares about that noise,
but knowing this letter would help save his family, the sound
soothed him.

Until it stopped.

He sat up, watching Cal drop the quill back
into the jar of ink.

"What?"

"I'm just thinking of the best way to tell
the king that his youngest son snuck out against his orders to
search the forest for enemies. On his own. Without a guard."

Rhen chewed his lip.

"I see…" He said slowly. "Why don't I just
tell you the whole story, and you can think of what to write
tomorrow, when I'm gone."

"Where are you going?"

Rhen waved his hand haphazardly through the
air, pushing the question off until later, and started telling Cal
everything that had happened. The fire. The Arpapajo village. Jin.
The fight. And finally, the docks.

"This sounds like war," Cal said, grim.

Rhen just nodded. He had said as much to
himself days earlier.

"So, naturally, you're sailing across the
sea to face the enemy alone once more."

"Naturally," Rhen deadpanned without batting
an eyelash.

"I'm serious, Whylrhen," Cal responded,
worry quivering in his voice.
Formal again
, Rhen sighed,
sitting straighter.

"Cal, enough worrying. I'll be sailing with
Captain Pygott on the
Old Maid
—she's an old warship. We both
know he pirated her from the royal fleet years ago when the new
ships were built, a gift from the king to his retired captain. He's
an honest merchant now. There won't be any trouble."

"It's not him I'm worried about."

"The Ourthuri? I’d like to see that old king
try to kill a Son of Whyl, really, I would. My father and the other
lords would crush him in an open battle."

"But you're missing one point in that
argument—by then, you'd be dead."

"Most spies end up in the grave."

"Most spies aren't princes."

Rhen stood. They were back to where they
always were—arguing like ten year olds again, like brothers. He
loved it and hated it at the same time. Two brothers was quite
enough, what Rhen needed was a friend who would jump into the
action with him. Not another lecture.

"Will you watch after Ember? I'll drop her
off at the stables before I leave tomorrow." Cal nodded—he already
expected this charge. "I'll send word when I've arrived safely back
home, to Rayfort."

"No need, I'll see you soon enough," Cal
answered. Rhen scrunched his brows, trying to think of why Cal
would be traveling to Rayfort, the King's City.

Seeing the confusion, Cal jumped into
action, pulling a piece of parchment from the stack on the table.
"I can't believe I forgot to tell you—Awenine gave birth. You're an
uncle."

"Awenine!" Rhen grabbed the paper, ripping
it from his friend's hands to inspect the royal seal. It was true.
After years of trying, years of heartbreak and stillborn babies,
his sister-in-law, wife of his eldest brother Whyltarin and future
Queen of Whylkin, had finally had a child.

He was an uncle.

To a baby boy.

A new prince of Whylkin.

Warmth sprouted in his chest, spreading like
a bubble, filling him up, and bursting down his limbs. A child in
the palace.
It has been far too long
, Rhen thought, pushing
the small knot of dread out of his mind.

This was a good thing. A happy thing. And
nothing would ruin it—Rhen would make sure of that.

He gripped Cal's arm, shaking it, needing
some way to pour some of this happiness out of his body and into
the world.

Cal slapped his back. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, dear friend." He held on for one
moment longer. "I'll see you in Rayfort for the Naming."

"For the Naming," Cal repeated.

And then, as they had done a dozen times
before, the two friends prepared for Rhen's escape. Cal pulled a
second rope from the chest beside his bed and peeked into the
hall.

Empty.

Rhen followed Cal down the corridor.

Another check, this time to the door
outside.

Clear.

Rhen moved past Cal, stepping over the wall
and gripping the rope as he silently made his descent. Cal waited
at the top, keeping watch for any guards.

As soon as Rhen's feet touched straw, he
tugged on the rope, and Cal pulled it back up toward him. When
everything was done, they met eyes.

At the same time, both men formed a fist
with their right hands and placed their arms across their chests,
nodding the formal goodbye of the knights of Whylkin—something they
had done hundreds of times before.

Breaking formality, Rhen sent one more wave
up to the sky as Cal disappeared behind the stone.

Rhen turned, tired. All of his traveling had
finally hit his bones, making them ache, and all he thought about
was the warm body in the bed four feet above his head.

Swiftly, he climbed back through the window,
reset his rope in the loose rock, and stripped off his shirt,
settling in under the covers.

An airy sigh kissed his ear as he sank into
the cushions, draping his arm over Reana's body. She wasn't his
wife. She wasn't his sweetheart. And though she would never realize
it, she wasn't even his lover.

Rhen had none of those things. The older he
got, and the more palace ladies that were thrust before his eyes,
the more Rhen thought this was as good as it got.

Soft skin under his palm with no strings
attached.

Tomorrow, he would be journeying once more.
On a ship. In the middle of the ocean. Without a woman in
sight.

Sailors were good, crude fun. Captain Pygott
was a fantastic storyteller, a very loyal friend. And Jin was an
entertaining new companion.

But none of those equaled a woman.

As sleep overtook him, Rhen hugged Reana
closer, dreaming that maybe she was something more.

By morning, he would forget that the wish
had even existed.

7

Jinji

~ Open Ocean ~

Eight days on a boat had taught Jinji one thing
about Rhen—he had an inherent disregard for clothing.

As soon as they lost view of the city, Rhen
had lost need of his shirt. He stripped it off to join the other
men in securing ropes, loosening ropes, and moving parts and pieces
that Jinji had no understanding of. Within an hour, his pale skin
was red and raw, but he seemed to like it despite the pain.

And she had thought that would be it.

But no.

Once again, around Rhen, Jinji had not been
so lucky because later that night she discovered where her sleeping
quarters were. Not in the front of the ship with the rest of the
men, which she had at first been thrilled by…until the captain led
her and Rhen to his first mate's cabin, a small wooden hole with
one bed and a hammock (as she later learned it was called). Rhen
immediately fell into the bed, leaving Jinji in the doorway
weighing the options. Try to squeeze in beside him—not happening—or
sleep in the odd fabric hanging on the other side of the room.

The second option was the clear winner, so
she had slugged over and awkwardly climbed in. Immediately, a wave
of happiness had rolled down her limbs. For the first time since
boarding this ship, the death trap as she thought of it, the queasy
feeling in her stomach had stopped. Instead of rocking back and
forth, unsteady and uncomfortable, the hammock swayed with the
ship, doing all of the moving for her.