Jinji trailed off. Lost for words.
"Don't ever think this was your fault—the only thing that you're responsible for is saving our lives. This is war, Jinji—the fault belongs with men who sit on thrones, dreaming of glory, never caring about the consequences."
With me, he thought, with my family.
Rhen closed his eyes tight against the thought, hatred filling his veins. Why did he deserve to live? To escape?
The truth was, he didn’t. But that would never change the fact that those men died fighting to keep his family alive, fighting to save him, and he would not dishonor their memory by waiting here for death to take him.
Especially not when the fight grew more hopeless around them.
As Rhen set sail for opposite shores, for anywhere but here, the fog continued to lift, burning away as the heat of the day took over. As far as the eye could see, gold sparkled, a wall across the Straits, stretching back and back, disappearing into the remaining mist. Wooden shards exploded across the sky, decorating the surface of the water with half broken ships just waiting to sink. One by one, the ships of his homeland fell. The blood of his people flooded the sea.
And then the jagged edges of the cliffs slipped into view. Almost as soon as they did, arrows rained down across the sky, landing on Whylkin ships. Even with the distance, Rhen could hear the roars of the rebellion, the cheer of victory on their lips as his soldiers disappeared.
"Retreat," Rhen whispered, shaking his head. "Please, retreat."
But he would never know if they did, because eventually the battle vanished from view. No sound carried across the distance. No images. Almost as though it never happened, as though it were a nightmare.
Rhen rubbed his eyes.
But there was no waking from this.
The cries continued to burn his throat, even as he turned away—from his people, from his home, from his family. Turned away to keep his promise, to live, even as one word whispered across his thoughts.
Coward.
Rhen shuddered, trying to push it away. But he failed.
Coward. Deserter. Traitor.
His deepest fears all turning to truth before his eyes. Rhen had abandoned them all.
"Rhen," Jinji whispered, voice soft with concern. But he could not meet her eyes, could not look at her, could not bring himself to speak.
Jinji deserved better than him.
Everyone in the kingdom deserved better than him.
When he closed his eyes, all Rhen could see was King Razzaq sitting on his father's throne. A throne of white stone. A throne of Whyl. A throne never made for gold. Lord Hamish was a fool if he thought King Razzaq would stop at Rayfort. The Ourthuri king wouldn't be satiated until all of Whylkin was under his control, people in chains, identity burned away as scars covered their wrists.
And Rhen had no way to stop it.
His people deserved a better hero. A true Lord of Fire. A god.
For a moment, Rhen had tricked himself into thinking he could be that god, but he was just a man—no longer a prince, no longer anything but a traitor.
"Rhen, where are we going?" Jinji asked, sitting beside him and draping her arm across his broad shoulders. Her fingers barely reached.
"I don't know," he told her, voice hollow.
"I do."
The determination in her voice pulled Rhen from his thoughts, making him turn to her, meeting her gaze. Fire blazed in Jinji's eyes.
"Take us to the Gates," she said, focus drifting to the mountain peaks glimmering white in the distance, larger here on the open water than they ever appeared from Rayfort.
"The Gates? There is nothing there."
"What better place to hide?"
Rhen paused, brows knotting together. "The mountains are too steep, we'll never be able to make land. There's no food, no shelter. We should go to the forest."
"No." Jinji shook her head, adamant. "We go to the Gates."
Rhen almost wanted to fight her, but he didn’t have the energy, or the drive. Shifting directions, Rhen gazed at the mountains in the distance, an easy guide.
On his shoulder, Jinji yawned, resting her head. A tear slipped free of her eyes. For her lost loved ones. For the men who passed today. Rhen wasn't sure. But he wouldn't pry—the two of them had realized long ago that information should be offered, not stolen.
"You should go below deck and rest," he said, even as his hand brushed the hair from her forehead, running down her cheek. The silky feel of her skin brought a sense of comfort to his limbs, a slight sense of peace.
Jinji just shook her head, already dragged away by sleep, breath slowing to a steady rhythm as her lids slipped closed.
She should go below deck, to the soft bed, out of the elements, the best place to recover. But Rhen was too selfish to move her so far away. Instead, he shifted slightly, bringing her head down to rest on his lap, careful not to shift her injured shoulder too much.
His fingers continued to roam her body, drifting up and down her arm, across her back, soothing. Jinji sighed beneath his touch.
Rhen looked ahead, to the mountains breaking through the water, pure white.
He had nothing left to live for but the woman in his arms. So though he doubted the destination, he stuck true to the course.
What waited at the Gates, Rhen had no idea.
But it was important to Jinji.
And that was enough for him.
17
JINJI
~ WHITE STONE SEA ~
The sun was just beginning to rise when Jinji woke, still in Rhen's lap, muscles aching from the damp air. One glance up and she knew Rhen needed sleep far more than she. His eyes were focused on the horizon yet seemed utterly blank, hanging open, barely blinking. Deep bags cut into his cheeks, draining them of color. Everything about him felt flat, completely opposite to the lively prince she loved.
"Rhen, get some rest," Jinji said, gently sitting up. The pain in her shoulder felt mildly better, though she still took care not to move it.
"I'm okay," he whispered, voice barely audible.
Jinji looked forward, catching the mountain peaks against the light peach sky, glistening with a yellow hue in the morning light. Soon though, she knew they would be white. Even without the spirit strands filling her eyes, Jinji sensed the power pulsing from that spot, so strong she could feel it in her bones.
"We don't know what waits for us at the Gates, you'll need your strength," she said, trying a different argument. He looked weary enough that even walking might prove difficult. Still though, Rhen shrugged.
Jinji reached over, prying his fingers from the wheel. They slipped off easily, further confirming the truth in her words as his arms fell slack against the deck. Cupping his cheek in her hand, Jinji forced Rhen to meet her eyes. His gaze was hollow, and she knew exactly why—his thoughts were still stuck at the Straits and at Rayfort.
"Rhen," Jinji said slowly, making sure he heard her words. "If we reach the Gates and all we find are walls of steep mountain rock, we will both need your strength. My arm is useless, I cannot climb, so you must rest so you can be strong for both of us."
Rhen blinked as his irises narrowed, suddenly really looking at her as he absorbed her words. For a moment, Jinji thought he might protest. But he didn't. Instead, he squeezed her fingers tightly one time and wordlessly stepped below deck.
She took his place, settling in with her back against the mast, loosely holding the boat on course with her good arm, and waited for the voice to come.
I'm here, she shouted across her mind.
Silence.
Jinji sighed. The voice would come, true, but who knew when. Likely when she least expected it, unless she could speed the process along.
So Jinji tried to separate from her body, stepping out of the world and into her thoughts. She focused on those distant mountain peaks until her vision grew hazy, unfocused, all the while letting her thoughts wander, moving her attention inward and leaving the physical behind.
&nb
sp; Of course, the first place her mind wandered was to Rhen, hopefully fast asleep a few feet below her. Part of Jinji ached to run down and wake him, to bring some hope to his sad, lost eyes. She wanted to tell him what might wait at the Gates, her true powers, a way to defeat the shadow, finally some answers.
But the other half kept her lips sealed, buried the words deep inside. Because as much as she wanted to see him hope again, Jinji knew another defeat might destroy him. And for all she knew, the Gates would only hold more questions, more disappointments, more failures.
Why haven't you healed yourself yet? the voice asked, yanking Jinji from her preoccupation with Rhen.
She grinned—like she'd thought, only a matter of time. But then Jinji paused, actually listening to the words. She sat up, asking slowly, "What do you mean?"
I can sense that our body is still in pain, still ill, but I know it has been at least a day since we spoke. Why did you not heal yourself? The ache is a block in our connection—it makes us weak.
"Heal myself? How do I do that?" Jinji asked, voice full of wonder, utterly confused.
Just think it and it will be done, as we do all things.
"But," Jinji paused, biting her lips, "but those are just illusions, tricks, it's not real."
Not real? You weave the spirits, the very elements of this world, a world created by the powers we possess. How could it not be real?
"But," Jinji started and then stopped, brows furrowing as random memories slipped to the forefront of her thoughts.
The illusion of Rhen in the darkness of the dungeons, actually holding her, body firm beneath her touch, arms tightly wound around her frame, so real.
The fires in the underground castle—the flames Rhen was able to pull under his skin, was able to manipulate just like the fire threads always circling his body.
The gusts she created to blow against their sails, sending them freely out of the path of the Ourthuri ship, sending them away—not imaginary but actually affecting the world around her.
Something had changed when the voice had awoken inside of her—Jinji sensed the shift in her illusions, but never realized how drastic the transformation was until this moment. She had come so far from the dim images of Janu woven in the clearing of her family home, slightly translucent, rudimentary. Now, the world bent at her command.
Swallowing, Jinji closed her eyes, picturing the wound beneath her bandage, the cut slicing her shoulder, causing her pain. And then she imagined it gone, picturing unbroken and unscarred skin, weaving away the hurt.
Slowly, the ache began to subside.
Spurred on by the diminishing pain, Jinji continued to weave the spirit threads, reaching beyond them, deeper to the jinjiajanu, the mother spirit willingly bowing to her commands. That was her true power source, her true connection. And then she knotted the threads, tying them off, and opened her eyes.
The world looked the same.
But everything was suddenly different.
Moving her shoulder was easy, caused her no throb. Eagerly, Jinji reached for the knot behind her head, removing the sling, letting it fall onto the deck. Next went the bandages. Below, her copper skin was unmarred. No stitches. No wound. No scar. Nothing but the perfect golden glow of her natural complexion.
Jinji grinned.
Gaze slipping to her wrists, Jinji closed her eyes, imagining the ugly scars circling them away. Moments later, she opened them. Her skin was perfect, just as beautiful as she remembered, and for a moment Jinji thought she might cry. The constant reminder of her weeks spent in captivity, the constant reminder of the dark, of the shadow, gone.
But then she paused.
Closed her eyes.
Opened.
A thin line circled her upper arm, almost like a piece of string but it was dark against her skin. Getting rid of her scars, washing them completely away, was not the answer. Jinji could not just erase the past. Each of those memories was part of who she was, so Jinji wove a new scar—one of her own creation. A reminder, not of her hardships, but of her strength.
"I'm healed," she whispered, voice full of awe. For a moment, she wanted to jump, to shout, to scream to the skies. Instead, she tightened her muscles, watching the new scar flex around her bicep, strong. And that small gesture was victory enough. "What next?"
We must go to my home, the voice said, tone laced with concern. I sense that something is not right there. Can you feel it?
Jinji glanced back to the Gates, spirits swirling in her vision. The white spirit strands were bright in her eyes, almost blinding, but buried beneath them was a darkness. Trying to look beyond the ivory, Jinji squinted, but the spirit strands were too strong, too light, and she could not look past them to see what hid out of sight.
"Is it the shadow?"
The voice sighed. I don't know. But my shadow-self is the only other person who might be able to find the entrance to my home. No human could make the journey without aid.
"We're still at least a day's ride away," Jinji said, shaking her head in frustration.
Then make us move faster…
It was a challenge.
One she gladly accepted.
Knowing that she wove not just spirit threads, not simple illusions, but the actual physical world gave Jinji renewed strength and renewed determination. She commanded the wind to blow against her sails, and it did. She commanded the water under the boat to flow in her direction, and it did. Every ounce of resistance nature might offer was shut down by mere thought. The waves stilled and then surged from behind, pushing one after the other against the back of the boat. For a moment, they were airborne as the gusts ripped into the sails, carrying them almost in flight.
The world began to rush by, a flash of turquoise and blue as it blurred around her. The Gates were the only still spot on the horizon, steady but growing larger and larger with every passing second.
Jinji lost track in the exhilaration. For the first time in a long time, she felt powerful. Useful. Free. What was the shadow against this? When they next met, she would be ready. And the shadow would beg for her mercy.
Enough!
Jinji stumbled, blinking as the world stopped around her. The water slowed. The wind died. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains looming overhead. No more than fifty feet away, the Gates waited.
"What do I do now?"
Follow my command and I will lead you to the entrance. For now, let the winds take you left until we reach a break in the rock. Our destination is in the center.
Jinji listened, blowing winds into the sails, leading them around the rock. So close, Jinji gasped at the colors in the stone, undulating just like the current. Not white as it had always looked, but a combination of every color, as though all four elemental strands were trapped below the surface, moving, waiting to be used, molding together into a crystalline color.
Rough waves crashed against the surface, splashing higher than any castles Jinji could remember seeing, coating the rock in a glistening polish. In the sun, she could hardly imagine how bright and beautiful it would look. Even in the shade, Jinji was mesmerized.
And the more she watched, the more she failed to understand how Rhen's ancestors had ever been able to mine enough rock for Rayfort. How had they managed to bring a boat close enough? Tools? How many men had they lost stealing those stones? Because that’s how it felt to her now, as though these mountains belonged to her, and every piece that was missing, no matter how small, was a travesty.
The stones in Rayfort were dead, but the ones filling her eyes now were alive with the spirits, filled to the brim with power, magnetic as they called to her.
There is the break, the voice said, calmer than Jinji ever remembered her sounding.
She looked ahead and there it was, the mountain wall came to an end in a jagged, steep cliff and a new peak rose just a few feet away, just as sharp and sudden as the other. Yet in between the mountain walls a little river of water flowed through, bright blue against the surroundings.
&n
bsp; Jinji bade the waters calm.
The splashing stopped. The water receded, stilled, until the surface was as clear as glass. The elemental spirit strands screamed to let them go, to be free, but Jinji held tight.
The winds blew forward and soon enough they were surrounded in stone, slipping through a path far narrower than the Straits. Behind her, Jinji slowly let the waters go, let them crash against stone, but before her the canal remained serene.
At every fork, the voice commanded she follow the water left or right and Jinji listened closely, feeling like one with the guardian spirit. Underneath her skin, familiarity began to bubble even though Jinji knew she had never seen these sights before. But in the back of her mind, a millennium of memories waited, untouched but still there, fighting to be remembered.
The entrance is ahead, where the rock rests flat.
Jinji saw it almost as soon as the words filled her mind, a flat slab of rock, no larger than the size of a room. The floor was smoother than anything Jinji had ever seen, free of even the slightest bump. Three sides were surrounded by water and one held a flat wall of stone, marred by no door or visible entrance, but it was obviously her destination.
Using the winds, Jinji drew as close as possible, until she felt the gentle thud of the wood hitting rock. And then she wove an icy weave, freezing the water around her boat, securing it tightly to its location before she jumped over the rail and onto the solid ground below.
Stepping up to the wall, Jinji pressed her hand against the rock. It was warm, breathing into her palm as though it sensed her touch. Sliding her fingers along the flat surface, Jinji walked across the space until she felt a shift below her skin.
This rock was hollow.
No spirits moved beneath her palm.
It was just an illusion.
Jinji stepped back, sensing the woven strands, finding the knot and unraveling it. When she opened her eyes, a circular alcove greeted her, leading to a narrow staircase disappearing up. Hesitating, Jinji looked back at the boat, surrounded by ice and utterly still.
The Spirit Heir (Book 2) Page 20
