by W. J. May
"But that little boy was real, it just wasn't the king, it was Whylrhen. He used to love playing on my ship when I worked for the crown, and I caught him trying to run away too many times. Because Whylrhen is like those little boys in their stalls daydreaming of ships, thinking the world is a far more magical place than it truly is. Who are you, Jin?"
The spirits were silent, though she half expected them to suddenly jump into her vision. She was the spirits, that was her path now, that was her destiny. But she couldn’t say that—she didn’t want to tell that truth. So instead, she simply answered, "I don't know."
"And that might be painful now, but in time you might find it a gift. To not know. To be free. To get to choose. Your future is as vast as this sea before us." He shrugged. "But who am I? Just an old man spinning stories of youth while my crew tries to sail us round in circles."
He turned, cupping his hands before his mouth, "Back to work! What do you think this is, social hour? We have royalty aboard." He looked at Jinji, winked, and then whipped his head in Rhen's direction. "Prince Whylrhen, why don't you show our little friend the crow's nest?"
"Ay, ay, Captain," Rhen said with a salute, and a rather mocking one at that. Captain Pygott shook his head, pretending to smack Rhen when they crossed paths. For his part, Rhen didn't try to dodge the blow, but Jinji saw the captain pull back at the last second, careful not to lay a hand on the prince. His old eyes twinkled, sparkled with affection, almost like those of a father.
"How long have you known Captain Pygott?" She asked when Rhen came closer.
He turned to look over his shoulder, as if the question had spurred a memory, and replied, "My whole life. I used to run away from the castle all the time, and the only place the guards gave me any peace was on his ship. They deemed it safe, I deemed it a sanctuary."
"And how often do you sail together now?"
Rhen's head shifted quickly, his eyes narrowing on Jinji. But then they softened and he shrugged. "Whenever convenient. But no matter, to the crow's nest with you."
Jinji locked the memory in the back of her mind, the anxious vein in his gaze. There was something in their relationship Rhen did not want her know, maybe something to do with the fire spirits constantly circling his body. Or maybe not.
"What's the crow's nest?" Jinji asked instead. She would dig into his reaction later.
Rather than answer, Rhen just pointed high up overhead. Jinji gulped, following his finger until she saw the small basket hanging from the center mast of the ship.
She gulped again.
"Why would we go up there?"
"For the view." Rhen pushed his elbow into her side, goading. "Are you afraid to climb it?"
"No," she responded instantly.
"Then follow me."
He didn’t wait for a reply, but instead walked confidently forward, toward the ropes on the right side of the ship, ropes that were tied to the outer edge of the wood, on the ocean side of the banister. Jinji raised her brows, confused as to what they were doing, until Rhen grabbed hold and pulled himself on top of the railing.
"It's all about balance," he said, reaching higher up on the ropes, lifting his foot off the wood as he began to climb.
Does he want me to follow? There was a reason the Arpapajo lived in the woods—they liked their feet firmly planted on the ground. Even climbing trees had never been particularly fun to her. She preferred the solid cushion of a patch of grass or the weightless buoyancy of a pond.
Only birds were meant for the sky.
"Come on, Jin!" Rhen yelled, letting go with one hand as his body sprung wildly out toward the sea, waving her up.
The man was insane.
But she refused to give him any more reasons to make fun of her. If she didn’t climb, it would mean endless taunts for the rest of the day.
Taking a deep breath, Jinji grabbed hold of the roughly bound rope, not caring as it itched her palm. She only strengthened her grasp. Pulling with both hands, she lifted her body onto the rail.
The boat lurched.
One foot slipped free of the wood.
Instantly, the image of falling down into the crystal waters below flashed before her, the icy cool prickle, the pain of the crash. She winced, pulling with all her strength, hugging the rope to her until both feet were once again planted.
One breath.
Two breaths.
She kept her eyes closed, steadying her heart until she felt one with the boat. Slowly, Jinji opened her eyes, meeting the concerned faces of the crew. Instead of speaking, she just smiled. They released their gazes, relieved, and returned to their tasks. Gripping the ropes, she reluctantly returned to hers.
Just go one step at a time, she thought.
Up one with her right arm, up one with her right leg, steady with her left arm and then safe again with her left leg settled in.
Making the same movements again and again, Jinji crawled slowly upward, amazed at how naturally the other men on the boat moved across it, like spiders. She never appreciated the skill it took, but now, refusing to look down and locking her eyes only on the small figure of Rhen above her, she understood.
When she neared the cage, Rhen grasped her arms, lifting her free of the rope and pulling her safely into the wooden basket. She panted for a moment, regained her depleted strength, and took in the view.
Blue.
For miles and miles in every direction, a stark and sparkling blue.
She tried to stand, but the rocking of the ship was magnified with their height, and it seemed to tip almost sideways with every other breath. Her legs wobbled, and then she dropped back to the floor.
"Stay seated," Rhen said, pushing down just slightly on her shoulder when she tried to lift herself up for the second time. He sat too, sighing as he dangled his feet over the edge and leaned back into the railing. His large frame took up over half of the small space.
Their arms touched from shoulder to elbow, causing a heat to rise under her skin. Jinji grabbed her legs, pulling them into her chest and shifting her weight, careful not to touch his body anymore. It was too intimate, she realized, after spending so many hours locked in the same room as him. There had to be a distance between them, otherwise she might slip up, might forget that she was supposed to be a boy, that she was supposed to be lying. He might notice that though her face was that of a male, her body was not. The baggy clothes hid it well, but in these close quarters, she had to be careful.
No matter how many times he taunted her, Rhen had come to be a friend, and she would not mess that up, not yet.
"This is one of my favorite spots on the ship," he said, eyes still closed in relaxation, "though many wouldn’t say the same. It's considered a punishment to be put up here, because of all the movement, but I've always found it very peaceful, very liberating."
Feeling her stomach unsettle slowly, Jinji might have agreed with the others, but there was something oddly comforting in her mood and oddly settled too.
"This was where I came to escape the castle and my father and mostly my responsibilities. Even if I was only on the dock, still stuck in Rayfort, I seemed miles away on top of this ship."
He opened his eyes slowly. The wind rustled his red hair, forcing it to spill over his forehead. Jinji wondered if her own short hair was doing the same, without her braid to keep it still and steady. Just the other night she had borrowed Rhen's knife to cut it short again, not ready to stop her mourning period—not even close.
"Do you have a place like that?"
Jinji closed her eyes tight, fighting back the water gathering there.
The clearing.
The meadow.
It used to be her spot, but all she saw now was Leoa, tying her braid, pulling over her joining dress. Both of them giggling, completely ignorant to the cries of their people, to the children and the women, to the warriors, to her parents. Even to Maniuk, singled out by the shadow for his strength and his skill—used and discarded.
All she heard now was the blood
-curdling scream that cracked her spirit in half, the pounding of her footsteps, the soft thud of a body as it fell to the ground.
"No," was all she said. No, she didn’t have a safe place like that, not anymore.
"It will get better," Rhen said. Jinji wouldn’t look at him, but instead focused on the far away horizon. "I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it will."
He took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles. Jinji almost heard the words waiting on his lips, could feel them press against his tongue wanting to come out. The air was static, electric from his pounding heart, his pulsing nerves.
And then it all stopped.
Silence.
"I had a younger brother once," Rhen confessed, his words heavy with an emotion that was mirrored by Jinji's wounded soul. "He was barely a year old when he was murdered by the man my father trusted most in the world. And I could have stopped it, if I had only understood what—" His voice shook, wavered on an edge. "I found papers that held evidence the murder was going to take place, but I was too young to understand what they meant, too naïve to know what I had found. And for that, my brother paid the price." He turned, met her stare with eyes a deep dark green, like the forest at twilight. "I know what it means to lose someone, but I also know that though the pain will never fully fade, eventually you will be able to endure it."
Jinji didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing at all. Silence was the better option. Silence let the words sink in, let their truth ring, let her realize that Rhen had allowed her a peek at a place within himself that he didn’t show to everyone—that he did not even show to most people.
Jinji opened her mouth, aching to tell her own story, but her throat closed up, stealing the sound from her voice.
She trusted him, after all he had done for her, Jinji trusted Rhen. But trusting someone was one thing, and opening herself up to him, making herself vulnerable to be hurt again, that was something else entirely. Rhen might have been willing, but it was only because he didn’t know that in the end, he would just be wounded—by her lie if he ever found out the truth or by her leaving without a word of goodbye.
And Jinji couldn’t handle any more pain.
"Thank you," she said quietly, instantly regretting it. Rhen blinked once, but once was all it took for his gaze to unglaze and his features to retreat, to harden. One blink was all it took for him to shut himself off again.
She looked out over the water, the small space of the crow's nest suddenly crunching in on her, suffocating her.
In her panic, she almost missed the unusual color on the horizon, the black speck that seemed to grow larger in her vision. But her brain registered what her heart did not, and before she realized it, Jinji was leaning forward, asking, "What's that?"
Rhen followed, his features popping in shock when he locked in on the speck. "A ship," he said and grinned, standing instantly.
"Captain!" He shouted down toward the deck. Having caught several people's attention, he pointed. "A ship off the starboard side."
Captain Pygott immediately pulled a long brass tube from his vest, extending it, holding it to his eye.
"I don’t see any colors," He yelled back up toward them. Jinji watched Rhen's grin spread wider. His fingers tapped his leg energetically.
"Let's take a closer look, shall we?"
The captain nodded.
Rhen swung his leg over the railing, moving to leave the crow's nest and Jinji behind. All notions of sadness had fled his gaze, replaced by pure adrenaline. Jinji began to stand but Rhen shook his head.
"Stay here, Jin. It'll be safer, just in case."
"In case of what?" She asked.
He grinned.
"Attack."
And with that, he was gone, slipping down the ropes faster than her eyes could follow, landing with a thud on the deck as he charged Captain Pygott, demanding a look through his metal device.
Jinji looked out toward the ship again, and the spirits flung into her view, filling her head with a somewhat crazy idea. She looked down at her hands—were they up for the task?
It would be a larger illusion than any she had woven before.
But, she paused, looking down to the deck once more. Jinji owed it to him to try. She owed it to all of them.
Her secret way of thanking Rhen for the moment of peace, for the first moment of true companionship she had felt in a while, for the memory.
Jinji cupped her hands in her lap, thinking of the mother spirits, of jinjiajanu, preparing herself for the weave.
And without her realizing, Jinji's fingers began to glow.
8
Rhen
Open Ocean
––––––––
Thank the gods for unflagged ships, Rhen thought as he stared through the telescope, searching for some sign of coloring on those distant masts.
Why had he told the boy so much? The words had just spilled out, uncontrollable. He hadn't spoken of little Whyllysle in years, to anyone, his family let alone his friends.
But even after burying it in the back of his mind, the memory came to life just as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.
Rhen, seven years old, searching through the old spymaster's papers as he usually did, barely able to read them but able to read them just enough. The year before, when he had been locked away in his room for misbehavior, Rhen had discovered the secret passage behind his bed, the one that led directly to the master's office. He was just able to sneak through, just small enough to fit under his bed, and a year later, he was still snooping around.
But this had been different, now he had a younger brother to take care of—one he would treat far better than his own older brothers had treated him. And part of taking care of him was making sure Rhen knew everything that was going on.
Hours and hours of looking through parchments and Rhen had never found a thing—until one night, when he found his brother's name scribbled in the margins of a sealed letter. Whyllysle. Immediately, Rhen had stolen the paper, folded it, and tucked it into his shirt before scurrying back to his room. He read as much as he could, picking out words like queen and king and most importantly, poison. But he didn’t really understand, and he definitely didn't know what to do. Show it to his father and risk being punished? Or pretend he had never found it in the first place?
What Rhen didn't realize at the time was that there were no options. He had been too late either way.
Not even an hour later, word spread like wildfire through the castle—the youngest prince was dead. The king, like a madman, demanded information. And Rhen, not knowing what he held, gave the parchment to his father, waiting for the blow to his head for stealing another person's things.
Instead of a blow, the king disappeared. A day later, the spymaster was hung for treason and the entire castle dropped into a deep despair.
And this was the part Rhen had never told anyone, the part he had almost spilled but was able to keep secret. Eventually, Rhen did understand what the papers had held—they had named the fourth heir to the throne a babe born out of infidelity, the queen's bastard, not the blood of Whyl. For that, an innocent child paid the price. The spymaster, rather than admit what he had found, poisoned the boy in his sleep, hoping the king would never understand, hoping that it would turn into an unsolved mystery allowed to linger.
Clearly, he had been wrong.
King Whylfrick was a proud man—he never said a word to his sons and never to the queen that Rhen could tell. It was a secret between the two of them; one he wasn't sure his father even realized they shared.
But sometimes when he caught his father's gaze, Rhen was sure the king knew. Deep down in his green eyes, so like his son's, there was a speck of resentment, a glimmer of unspoken rage, and Rhen could think of no other cause.
Which was why he remained silent—was why Rhen would never tell a soul—not even a small boy who had no one in the world he could tell.
And maybe that, Rhen realized, was why he had allowed himself one moment of vuln
erability with Jin. The boy had no one—no political motivations, no idea of what it meant for a prince to be indebted to him. For the first time, Rhen had someone other than his two brothers he could be honest with, could show his real self to.
But that wasn't quite true, no matter how much he hoped it was.
Rhen thought of the snoring comment. A lighthearted story, a good laugh—but also so much more, a little tale that could wreck a reputation.
Jin's innocence was his appeal and his danger—he could break Rhen's hard work without even realizing it.
He could destroy it all.
"See anything, Prince Whylrhen?"
Rhen dropped the telescope—he had stopped scanning the waters a few minutes ago.
"No flags."
A child-like glow burned in the captain's eyes.
"Attack?" He asked.
"Your call, old friend," Rhen replied, nodding his head. Rhen might be leading this expedition, but he trusted the captain. What very few knew, no one outside of this ship, was that the two of them had made an arrangement. When Rhen officially earned his knighthood, he commissioned Pygott as the first member of his spy network—his own personal captain.
That was the reason Pygott had left the crown. Not for the queen, a ridiculous rumor. But because Rhen had always been like a son to him, the son he and his wife could never have, and he could not say no.
But at times like this, looking at the fast approaching ship, Rhen understood what the captain had given up.
He loved a good fight.
And he was about to get one.
"Archers!" The captain yelled. Immediately, the crew stopped in place. Even the air seemed to still.
Then chaos—organized, as these men all knew their places.
Six of the crew ran to the bow of the ship, opening a chest that held their weapons, searching for nicks in the wood and stretching out horsehairs that had been hardened by the salt air.
