A Dance of Dragons: Series Starter Bundle (34 page)

Rhen

~ Rayfort ~

Home
, Rhen thought with a sigh. There was
just something about coming home that felt so right, so
relaxing.

He stepped off the ship onto the wooden
planks of the dock.

Rayfort.

He had arrived, hopefully in time to make a
difference.

Looking around, Rhen searched for red in the
crowd. No king's guards, at least not yet. But they would come to
escort him—there was no way he would escape that torture.

Although…

He walked forward, knowing Jin would follow
behind. He had already thanked Captain Jelaric for his services,
and once he arrived at the castle, Rhen would send a handsome
reward. There was little reason to wait there like an idiot,
especially when he had urgent news for his father. Perhaps he could
find a horse to borrow, leave before the guards even arrived.

A scream sounded on the wind.

Another.

Thunderous steps boomed in Rhen's ears.

He grinned.

It could only mean one thing.

A furious neigh cut through the shouts. And
then, careening around the corner of the walk, there was a flash of
red blurred by speed.

Ember.

Warmth surged in Rhen's chest, sprinkling
down his limbs, comforting and exciting. His arms opened wide and a
laugh spilled from his lips as he walked forward, trying to meet
her halfway.

"Easy, girl," he shouted, trying to calm her
from afar, knowing it was a long shot.

She charged through the sailors, almost
shoving one man into the water, until a few feet short of Rhen, she
came to a dead halt.

Rhen sighed and rolled his eyes. So this was
how she was going to play it.

He stepped forward, smiling with arms
wide.

She stepped back, stomping her right foot
hard against the wood and shaking her head with a whining
neigh.

He tried again, moving forward very
slowly.

She jumped onto her hind legs, rearing and
throwing her front feet forward.

"Ember!" Rhen gasped.

She stomped again.

"My Lord, stay back," one of the guards came
running from behind.

"Stop!" Rhen shouted at the man, knowing
that Ember would have no shame kicking him with her hind leg if he
got too close. He had trained her, after all. "She is my horse. I
do not want anyone interfering."

The guard nodded, keeping his distance. But
he still looked far too ready to pounce.

Rhen tried stepping forward again. Ember
looked at him, squinting with her one eye.

He tried to reason with her. "I know you're
mad, but I'm sorry. You couldn't come with me. The open ocean is no
place for a horse. You barely even like walking through a deep
stream."

She sneezed, slobbering all over his
face.

Rhen frowned, exasperated, determined not to
move another inch. They stared at each other, each more stubborn by
the second, until finally Ember threw her head to the side,
breaking contact, and letting Rhen win.

She dipped her nose, hanging it a little
low, and stepped forward into Rhen's waiting arms. He hugged her
thick neck, rubbing the red hairs flat as her breathing slowed.
Reaching up with his left hand, Rhen felt along the side of her
face, running his fingers down the length of her muzzle until she
sighed and relaxed. Then Rhen gently scratched the diamond puff of
white hairs between her eyes. She pushed her head closer, letting
him know everything had been forgiven.

"Good girl," he cooed. "Now what do you say
we go for a ride?"

Her ears perked.

"You remember Jin, right, Ember?" He turned,
spotting Jin closer to the ship. The boy looked on with a soft
smile and warm eyes, with a feeling Rhen couldn’t quite place.

He shrugged, no matter, and motioned for Jin
to walk over.

"Hello, Ember," Jin said, hesitant, and then
reached out his hand. Rhen almost swatted it away, afraid she would
bite, but instead his horse moved closer, rubbing the tip of her
nose against the outstretched palm. Rhen smirked. Getting Ember's
approval was no small feat, and the boy had done it twice. Jin
would do fine in Rayfort. Better than fine.

Grabbing Ember's saddle, Rhen jumped into
the seat. He had missed her. The only woman who had really ever
held his heart.

"Come on, Jin," he said, lightly tapping
Ember's rear and outstretching his hand. The boy's eyes widened.
"Come on, you rode her before in Roninhythe. There is nothing to be
afraid of."

Jin nodded absentmindedly.

Rhen reached farther down, gripping the
boy's hand and pulling him up before another protest could be
uttered. He had work to do, and there could be no more delays.

With a yelp, Jin settled in.

"Hold on." Rhen jerked on the reins. Jin
gripped the top of Rhen's shoulders forcefully, rather than holding
his torso, but Rhen let it go. If the boy wanted to fall on his
butt, that was his problem.

"Prince Whylrhen," one of the guards yelled,
but Rhen ignored him, urging Ember along and pushing his way
through the crowd.

The people smiled at him, meeting his eyes
before they bowed, yelling out praises and kind words on his
return. Rhen smiled, waving, reaching down to touch some of their
hands, tossing a few silver coins out of his purse, cracking
jokes.

While his father and brothers remained in
the castle, guarded and gated from the common people, Rhen had used
them as the perfect escape. He was the third son, had fewer
responsibilities, fewer expectations, and always worked on the
reputation he had so carefully crafted since boyhood.

Instead of tending to matters of court, he
visited local shops to buy goods and sat at local taverns to drink
ale. And because he refused to stay hidden and locked away, the
people loved him—which annoyed his siblings and father to no
end.

During parades through the city, it was
Whylrhen that was shouted above the others. The king believed it
was purely due to gossip, to the fact that his name was on every
father or elder brother's tongue…or every whore's. But Rhen knew it
was more, so much more. He would never be one of them, of the
common folk, but he was as close as they would ever get to royalty,
and it was far closer than they had ever been before.

So he let them touch his fingers, pet his
horse, try to tell their life story in a short sentence, because it
made them feel special and it made him feel connected to something
larger. It was only after, when he passed through the white wall in
the middle of the city and entered the noble quarters, that he felt
alone, emptier for remembering that it was just another show,
another character.

The streets were quieter here. Men and women
bowed, careful to pay him due respect. The children didn't run free
and wild, but instead stood carefully beside their families as was
proper. The clothes were more colorful, more voluminous, but life
seemed dampened somehow.

Rhen shifted in the saddle, nodding politely
to everyone as they passed by, noticing a few curious looks at
Jin—the Arpapajo. Did any of these people even remember that the
oldworlders still lived? Northmore Forest was, after all, a long
distance away. "What do you think of my city?" He asked Jin.

"It is very…large." The boy sounded
overwhelmed, his voice was meek, almost ill. "I don't know how I
will ever find my way out—I mean, around."

"No matter." Rhen shrugged. "I'll show you
most of it. In a few weeks, it will feel like home. I know it.
Besides, the city was built that way on purpose."

"Hmm?" Jin asked, thoughts clearly
elsewhere. But Rhen tried to put himself in Jin's shoes—almost any
situation was rightfully overwhelming for someone who had lived
most of his life in one small portion of a forest, away from the
outside world.

But for Rhen, muddy cobblestone streets
lined with row after row of homes was just second nature. Likely
taken for granted.

"The city was built as a maze. Many streets
turn unexpectedly into dead ends, or spin in circles so you might
be turned completely around without realizing it. Just another
method of defense. But the natives, they know where to go. And new
travelers are all the more obvious to the king's guard."

A horn sounded.

Surprised, Rhen looked up, right into the
blinding façade of the castle wall. The stark white burned his
eyes, but it felt good in a way.

The gates slowly started to open, cracking
to reveal the lush green courtyard at the base of the castle, just
behind its defensive wall. The stables stood a little farther to
the left, out of sight, but the horses were sometimes allowed to
roam freely. Not today. Today, the place seemed pure chaos.
Servants scrambled back and forth, overloaded with baskets of food
and laundry, and there were too many of them. Far more than
usual.

Stepping through the now open gate, Rhen saw
guards from noble houses all over the kingdom dressed in all
different colors.

The Naming.

And Rhen was most definitely the last one to
arrive.

Perfect
.

"Prince Whylrhen," he turned to see his
father's courier bowed deeply, head nearly at the floor. "King
Whylfrick would like to see you immediately, in the throne
room."

"Of course he does," Rhen said under his
breath. The whole reason he had returned was to warn his father of
the imminent danger to the kingdom, but until that moment, he had
forgotten that a lecture would surely come first.

There was always a lecture.

Always.

Louder, Rhen said, "Of course, Reynard, you
can tell him I will be there immediately."

"Thank you, Prince Whylrhen." The man bowed
his head once more before scurrying off.

Rhen helped Jin down before sliding from the
saddle.

"You'll probably want to stay behind me," he
whispered to Jin, before making his way to the large stone steps at
the front of the keep.

When he was halfway up the stairs, the
guards pulled open the entrance—two wooden doors almost fifteen
feet high and decorated with intricate iron lattices. Behind him,
Jin gasped. Rhen grinned.

The castle was home. He was too used to
these halls to be impressed, but it filled him with a sense of
pride to hear Jin's reaction. And it was well deserved. The entry
glistened with polished white stones, pearlescent in the daylight.
Windows made of colored glass reflected around the small atrium,
bouncing the four colors of the elements into overlaying patches.
Giant tapestries depicting the red flag of Whylkin with its great
bucking steed hung from the ceiling. And a grand staircase curved
upward to the second level where the throne room sat.

Two servants manned the space, bowing as
soon as they saw Rhen enter. He nodded and moved on, tugging Jin
with him. Best not to keep his father waiting.

Hurrying up the steps, Rhen stepped into the
long hall that led to the throne room—white walls decorated with
expansive tapestries depicting the life of Whyl the Conqueror.
Every battle, every victory, every milestone—everything history
wanted to remember about his ancestor was written in threads,
depicted through art.

Later, he told himself, later he would
explain them to Jin, would tell him the stories. But for now they
rushed through, walking briskly toward the wooden door at the end
of the hall, already held open for him.

When Rhen entered the throne room, his
breath caught. He had forgotten how majestic this space was—an
inevitable side effect of avoiding the room at all costs. But he
took one spare gaze to take it all in. The atrium was gigantic, at
least four stories high and two to three times as long. Thick
columns extended into the vaulted ceiling, crisscross woodwork
danced above his head, and more tapestries lined the walls. There
were no windows except for one—but what a window it was.

Rhen let his vision extend, moving down the
center of the room until the sculpted stone throne of Whylkin
filled his view. The seat itself was small, and occupied by a man
whom he glossed over, but the throne was another thing entirely.
Carved from one piece of rock, it was at least two men high and
four men wide, decorated with impressions of humans, horses, and
cityscapes.

And behind the throne rested a wall of glass
revealing the most beautiful view of the city of Rayfort and the
clear cerulean sea beyond the peninsula. On a clear day, the peaks
of the Gates might be visible, a stack of pointed clouds piercing
the sky.

"Whylrhen," a stern voice commanded.

Reverting back to his four-year-old self,
Rhen winced and straightened his shoulders, standing as tall as
possible while he gathered the courage to meet his father's eyes.
Slowly, he started walking forward, listening as his boots clicked
against the stone, echoing across the room.

The entire family was there, waiting for
him. His mother, Queen Katrina, wearing a long bronze dress to
match her eyes. His middle brother, Whyllem, slouched and relaxed.
His eldest brother Whyltarin, with arms folded across his broad
chest and feet planted wide. Just behind him, Awenine sat in a
flowing blue gown, her blonde hair pinned elegantly atop her head.
And in her arms, wrapped in a bright red swaddle, was Rhen's
perfect little nephew—as yet unnamed, but the brilliant red hair
poking out from the cloth named him a Son of Whyl in a way no words
ever could.

Hair just like Whyltarin.

Just like Whyllem.

But mostly, just like King Whylfrick.

With a sigh, Rhen finally looked into his
father's piercing gaze and stopped five feet back from everyone
else. They would give no hugs until his father allowed it, though
his mother offered a warm smile. Beside her, Whyllem offered a
knowing grin and elbowed Whyltarin in the ribs, breaking their
eldest brother's tough exterior. The two had always been close, a
pair. At only one year apart, they spent six years together before
Rhen was even born, a bond that was tough for a younger brother to
crack.