A Dance of Dragons: Series Starter Bundle (28 page)

He gasped—breath stopping—and stepped
closer.

But the woman wasn't looking at him—she was
looking past him at Jin.

"Good luck," she said, her voice soft and
full of emotion. And then she leaned back, hidden behind a heavy
curtain. Two knocks and the cart started rolling away.

Rhen fought the urge to chase after her,
stuck in his spot by one thought—she was Ourthuri. And by the look
of it, royal.

His mother would kill him if he fell for a
foreigner.

Would kill him.

His eyes closed and the vision returned.
Heat flooded his veins at the sight of her, almost as though his
body remembered something his brain did not.

Rhen shook his head.

Another time. When he could process the
information. When there weren't a million other questions filtering
through his mind.

"Jin," he said, awed, "how in the
world?"

"It is a long story." The boy sighed and
handed Rhen a plain brown robe, keeping one for himself. "Put this
on."

In a daze, Rhen nodded and pulled the
garment over his head. His hip was weaponless, he realized,
disheartened.

Jin pulled a second robe over his head—it
pooled on the ground by his feet, far too long for the small
boy.

"In short, I managed to escape the ship,
break into the palace, and convince a princess to help smuggle you
from the castle." The boy took a deep breath, as if he couldn't
even believe his words. "Oh, and in return I promised her safe
haven when she runs away from her father."

Rhen choked.

"And the long version?"

Jin shook his head. "We must find a place to
hide. Do you know anyone in the city? The princess said she could
take us no farther than the lower districts."

"What was her name?" Rhen asked, still
lagging behind Jin's words.

The boy's eyes narrowed and his head titled
slightly to the side. "Leenaka…" He said slowly.

Leenaka.

Odd. Foreign.

He let the sound roll over his tongue.

Lee. Naka.

Leenaka.

He could get used to that. Now he just
needed to see the face hidden behind the veil.

"Rhen?"

"Yes?" He said, jerking up. Then he
remembered. "Wait, when she runs away?"

"Rhen, the king will soon be looking for
you. He wants to kill you. We must find a place to hide. Now."

Rhen looked around, pushing his distracting
thoughts to the side. They were hidden in this alley for now, but
the boy was right—more than he realized maybe. Rhen lifted his
hand, running his fingers over the ridges of the cut on his
forehead. King Razzaq wanted him dead—but now he needed him dead,
needed to stop this story from making its way to King
Whylfrick.

The robes would help, but even still, Rhen
would be noticeable. Jin's darkened skin and black hair hid him a
little. But Rhen, with his reddish white skin and cherry-auburn
hair, would stand out from the crowd.

Sons of Whyl weren't made to blend in.

"Come on." He motioned for Jin to follow. "I
know just the place."
And surprisingly it's not a brothel
,
Rhen thought, proud of himself.

It was a ship. One had luckily been sitting
in the harbor earlier that day. And Rhen prayed it was still
there.

He walked closer to the busy street,
checking once to make sure Jin was ready before stepping into the
crowd. Carts rolled, pulled by neighing horses or the owners
themselves. People walked. Children ran. Merchants shouted.

Rhen looked around, trying to spot a marker
and catch his bearings in this strange city. When he looked left,
his gaze traveled up an incline. When he looked right, it slanted
down.

Right
, Rhen decided and stepped
forward. Down meant farther from the palace and from the king. Down
meant closer to the docks and to freedom.

An instant after they started moving with
the crowd, bells sounded from above. At first, it was just a dull
twinkling, distant and musical. But with every passing step, the
sound grew, almost as if the notes were raining down from the
palace, pelting Rhen in the head the farther he ran. By the time
they reached a bend in the street, the ringing had grown to a
furious roar—menacing and omnipresent. There was nowhere to hide,
to escape.

Spotting a street vendor, Rhen pulled Jin to
the side and casually grabbed two scarves from the cart when the
man was busy and not looking. The material was coarse and scratchy,
but it would do.

When they disappeared from eyesight, Rhen
lifted the rectangle over his head, draping it like a hood down
over his forehead.

"Jin," he whispered, looking over his
shoulder, "put this on."

The boy took the cloth and copied Rhen's
style, but still, the two of them were being stared at. The hood
hid a little bit of Rhen's skin and hair, but it could not cover
everything—especially his size, which was almost double that of the
men around him. But more so than anything, people stared at their
covered arms, hidden beneath the robes. No visible tattoos. A sure
sign that they were not from the Golden Isles.

They needed to get to the docks and
fast.

Reaching back, Rhen tugged on Jin's robe,
urging him to move faster.

An iron bridge slipped into sight on the
horizon, leading down to another plateau of the multilevel city.
Guards in deep conversation blocked either side. In the archway, a
bell shook back and forth, joining in the cacophony.

And suddenly Rhen realized what it was—an
alarm. The city was being locked down, which could only mean one
thing—the king had just learned of Rhen's escape.

Letting his thoughts wander for a minute,
Rhen prayed for the mysterious princess's safety. But—he glanced at
the soldiers as they weaved into the busy streets with weapons held
high—his own safety was clearly the more pressing issue.

The bridge was close.

But a gate was being cranked across it,
sealing the opening shut.

How would they make it through
unnoticed?

A commotion filtered into Rhen's
ears—shouting and yelling. He shifted his gaze to the left, smiling
when he saw a man sitting atop a wagon. A man who was fighting with
two Ourthuri soldiers and gaining more attention by the minute.

He couldn’t understand much over the din of
the crowd, but it sounded like the man was a merchant trying to
return to his ship with the goods.

Which meant one thing—the next platform had
to lead to the docks.

Reaching out his arm, Rhen halted and
stopped Jin behind him. He shifted to the right edge of the street,
across from the fight about to break out, and kept creeping slowly
closer to the bridge.

More soldiers stopped patrolling, instead
turning to the noise of the argument. A few walked out of the
guardhouse beside the bridge, joining their comrades against the
sailor. The rest of them moved past Rhen, who was bending his knees
to shorten his stature.

When he was a hand's length away from the
now half-closed and abandoned gate, he stopped.

It was a miracle.

The gods were smiling on him today.

All of the guards had left their station,
distracted by the sailor, who now waved a dinged weapon in the air.
All of the townspeople watched, hunger for justice in their eyes.
The guards stood in a straight line, trying to intimidate even
though their numbers were few.

They were one breath away from a riot.

"On my count," Rhen muttered, and Jin nodded
in understanding.

Rhen held out one finger.

Two fingers.

And then he moved, holding his breath as his
foot stepped across the entrance of the bridge.

No shouts.

No clanking swords.

No arrows.

He looked down. The metal below his feet was
a marvel. Sturdy and unlike anything he had seen before. Bridges
were supposed to be made of stone, and even then surpassing a deep
river was near impossible. But—he eyed the edge and looked down to
the ocean deep below his feet, nestled between the rocks—this
seemed held up by magic.

Rhen glanced at Jin, comforted by the boy's
wide, staring eyes. He was not the only one impressed by the
scene.

Farther over his shoulder, the sailor was
sitting back down. The crowd started to disperse.

"Run!" Rhen gasped as a guard started to
spin.

The two of them took off, not waiting to see
if they were being followed.

Their feet touched on solid rock once more,
and Rhen shoved people to the side as he made his way through the
winding roads, down and down, praying that the streets would soon
level.

Through a boxy building, he saw the sparkle
of blue.

"We're almost there," he shouted back, too
excited to contain his enthusiasm. One more wide bend, and the
ocean burst fully into view. The deep sapphire sent a wave of
warmth into Rhen's chest that crashed against his heart, exploding
down his limbs in a giddy burst. He felt like a child running from
the castle guards, hiding from his father. It was a game.

A game he had won.

Pure adrenaline kept his legs pumping.

The cloth fell from his head, slipping over
his ears and free from his throat. But it didn’t matter. The docks
were alive with men of Whylkin and Ourthuro—skin of every shade
mingled and mixed, making Rhen and Jin just two more in a crowd of
foreigners visiting the capital city.

A laugh escaped his lips—freedom spilling
through his system like a drug.

But he wasn't safe yet.

Not yet.

Finally, when Rhen reached the edge of the
docks, he stopped and scanned the ships for the flag of his
kingdom.

There.

At the end of the row.

A spot of red in a cloudless cobalt sky.

The air shifted, bringing the design fully
into view. Rhen grinned—he would recognize that rearing black
stallion anywhere. In fact, it might be embroidered on his
breastplate underneath the Ourthuri robe that now felt heavy in the
salty air.

Without wasting time, Rhen strode
confidently forward, walking over the boards until he reached the
base of the ship where a bridge already sat extended.

"Hello!" He called, but didn’t wait for a
response. Turning to look back toward land, he saw the golden garb
of King Razzaq's guard shimmering in the distance.

It was against protocol to board
unannounced.

But, Rhen smirked, breaking rules was one
perk of being royal.

He mounted the bridge and walked slowly on
board.

"Where is your captain?" Rhen asked, louder
so his voice carried. This time, he was noticed—and not kindly.

"Who's asking?" A sailor stepped forward,
his skin wrinkled and hard from the days at sea, his nose upturned
in disgust. Hostility prickled the air around him, almost
tangible.

Rhen looked over his shoulder. High on deck
where he stood, the docks below were mostly out of view. He prayed
no Ourthuri would see him now, as in one swoop of his arm, the
foreign robe was whisked from his body and dropped into a pool on
the floor. In its place rested the royal garb he had donned to see
the king.

Sure, it was ripped and bloodied, but that
just made the whole scene more intimidating.

"I am your prince," Rhen said, dripping with
authority. He was in no mood for games. Now that he had stopped
moving, the weary ache of loss taunted his bones. The threat of
death was still heavy.

The man's eyes widened, shocked, and he
immediately dropped to his knees in respect, dipping his body far
lower to the ground than was necessary. "My Lord," he blurted.

Rhen rolled his eyes—now was not the time
for overdone displays of loyalty. He walked closer to the man and
leaned down to lay a palm on his tense shoulder. "It is no matter.
Anyone would have made the same mistake. Your captain, please?"

The man stood—a speck of gratitude in his
crinkled eyes—and nodded. "Right this way, my Lord."

As they walked down the length of the ship,
crew members paused, staring with open mouths as Rhen walked by.
Many men would go a lifetime with nothing more than a glimpse of
their prince, but to have him aboard their ship—a merchant ship,
not a war ship—that was something unheard of.

They reached an open door and trotted down a
few steep steps until they were completely below decks. Rhen's
guide knocked on a closed door. A gruff "come in" sounded through
the wood.

The captain sat behind a desk, hunched over
maps and charts with a bulbous glass pressed against his eye. His
hat hung from a hook on the wall, black with one white plume. He
was bald. His features were sharp, angular despite his age—an age
where skin usually began to sag. He looked like a man who did not
like to be bothered. A loose, open white shirt hung over his frame.
And the only jewel Rhen saw was a ruby circled in gold that hung
from one ear.

After a minute, he looked up from his work,
dropping the quill that had left small black stains on his
fingers.

"What…" He trailed off when his eyes came in
focus, settling on Rhen and studying him for a moment, confused.
"My Lord." He stood to present Rhen with a deep bow. "I am Captain
Jelaric, and I am honored to have you on board the
Skipping
Stone
."

"I fear that will pass." Rhen sighed. "I am
Prince Whylrhen, son of Whylfrick, and this," he motioned to Jin
behind him, "is my traveling companion, Jin of the Arpapajo people.
We arrived this morning on the
Old Maid
, a retired war ship
led by Captain Pygott. While I was visiting with King Razzaq, my
men and I were ambushed. Now Jin and I are the only two who remain.
I must get back to Rayfort immediately. My father must hear of King
Razzaq's treachery as soon as possible, and I am afraid that you
are in possession of the only Whylkin ship currently in the
harbor."