"Please?" he whispered.
Usually Leena did this for them. But the desperation in his gaze must have spoken to the dragon because without protest, she filled the pot with water and even snorted a few small cubes of ice in to keep it cold. Rhen ran a hand over her snout, thanking the dragon silently. And then he dropped to his knees, grabbing two empty canteens and filling them to the brim. He sealed the first, and then paused, shutting his eyes tight, torn. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out the vial, and stopped cold.
Could he do this?
Did he have the strength?
Rhen opened his eyes, staring at the small glass cylinder in his hand, trying to gather his will. The spirit had promised that Jinji would be safe, had promised that this was the only way to end the battle with the shadow. Jinji herself had promised that she would be all right, had admitted that giving herself to the spirit was the only choice she would make. So why was he hesitating?
Rhen swallowed. There was one last question.
How would Jinji react when she found out?
Would she ever forgive him?
Was Rhen willing to risk that to save her soul, to save the world?
He bit his lower lip, clenching his fist around the small vial, heart pounding wildly in his chest. If he didn’t pour the liquid in her drink, Rhen shuddered to think what might happen. Either Jinji would regain control of her body before the spirit and shadow could come to a deal—in which case the phantoms would run rampant over the earth, killing everything in their path—or Jinji would sit idle while the spirit murdered her brother in order to send the shadow away from this world, and she would take all the blame on herself for not fighting for his life. Either way, she would end up broken, spent, a mere shell of the woman he loved.
Or he could do this.
He could steal the decision from her.
Rhen imagined her eyes clouded in self-loathing, in disgust. He pictured her broken, soul shattered, left as a weak replica of the strong-willed beauty he knew her to be. And he knew.
He would do anything to keep that from happening.
He would rather risk losing her love than risk Jinji losing herself. He would rather she come to despise him than despise herself. He would rather she never forgive him than never forgive herself.
Before he could second-guess, Rhen poured the contents of the vial into her canteen and sealed it shut.
It was done.
Rhen looked up, heart leaping in his chest as he met the dark, questioning eyes of the princess. Leena watched him curiously, brows knotted as her gaze flicked between the canteen and his eyes, back to the canteen, back to his torn expression. She tilted her head, sitting up, widening her lips to speak.
Rhen reached out quickly, putting his hand over her mouth, hoping Jinji wasn't watching, hoping she couldn't hear. And then he shook his head silently, desperately. And though Leena didn't understand, she nodded. Her gaze slipped over his shoulder, and he knew the princess was looking at Jinji. He didn't dare turn his head to follow her gaze.
After a moment, Leena sank back down to the sand.
She closed her eyes.
She pretended for his sake to be asleep.
But in Rhen's mind she was something else—a witness to his betrayal. And he felt her umber eyes on him the whole time he walked back to Jinji—they bore into his back with a judgment and accusation concocted by his own mind.
"What did you find?" Jinji asked when he returned and sat silently by her side.
But Rhen couldn't speak. His throat was closed with heady emotion, with confession, and if he opened his lips, he knew the truth would spill out. Instead, he laid the food down on a cloth and stretched his trembling arm, offering her some water. Jinji didn't notice the tremors pulsing over his bicep, the shake of his fingers. Or if she did, she wrote it off as something else, as a side effect of the battle ahead. Jinji reached out, trusting him completely, and took the canteen.
Her mouth closed over the lip of the bottle.
Her head leaned back.
Her throat pulsed with a swallow.
Rhen watched it all mutely. He was stuck. Jinji didn’t know it yet, but this was their goodbye. This was the moment that everything in their relationship would change. This was the moment Rhen betrayed her trust, betrayed their love. And this was the moment that would cause hatred to fill her golden eyes the next time she gazed at him.
"Rhen?" she asked teasingly, watching him with bemusement, shaking her head at his odd behavior.
Jinji took another sip.
And another.
As she raised her arm for a fourth taste of the cool liquid, she paused. The canteen dropped from her fingers as her grip slackened. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the confusion. Her body swayed, losing strength. Rhen caught her before she fell. He cradled her in his arms, apology filling his wet eyes as he hugged her close, leaning over her protectively.
"Rhen?" she asked.
But the tears had already started to fall. He couldn’t hold them back any longer. She watched a drop slide from the corner of his eye, following its path down his cheek, staring as it slipped from his chin and landed on her chest. Then her gaze returned to his eyes, questioning him silently. She opened her mouth but nothing came.
"I love you," he whispered, throat raspy and choked up. "Please forgive me."
Jinji's eyes slid shut while he spoke.
The woman he loved was gone.
His plea hung in the air, unanswered.
19
JINJI
~ RONINHYTHE ~
Rhen?
Jinji tried to say his name again, but her mouth wouldn't open, her lips wouldn't move. A woozy, dizzy feeling washed over her as the world spun. Was he crying? A warm droplet landed on her chest, then her cheek, slipping over her lips. Were they his? Were they hers?
"I love you," he murmured.
I love you, too, she tried to answer. But the words wouldn't come. His face was starting to fade away. The world was growing black. She focused on the brilliant green of his eyes, trying to hold on to his despair, trying to understand it. Just before her lids slid shut, Jinji heard his final words.
"Please forgive me."
And she understood. Pain rippled across her senses—heartbreak. He'd done this to her.
But why?
To find Janu?
Was Rhen taking matters into his own hands now? Was he going to find her brother, to kill him?
Jinji had seen it in his eyes when he asked if she would live—an unyielding determination to ensure that she was safe, that no harm came to her. And she didn't have the heart to tell him that no, she wouldn't survive if the spirit gained control, not if her plan was still to send herself and the shadow from this realm, to drive a knife through both of their hearts. Jinji hadn't wanted to say goodbye to the man she loved, couldn't bear to let him know she marched to her death. But there was no other outcome Jinji could visualize, not unless the shadow came through on their deal. He had said that the spirit would betray him, would betray them all. He had said that when that moment came, he would offer Jinji a way to keep Janu safe, to keep them both alive.
But what if the shadow had lied? What if that moment never came? What if there was no way to keep Janu and her alive?
What if this was her last chance to say goodbye?
Rhen!
But he wasn't there. No one was. She was drifting in a dark sea, directionless, waiting for someone to take control.
And then someone did.
Pressure filled the void Jinji floated in. The ebony nothingness behind her closed eyelids became cramped and crowded. Her soul was pushed away, pushed over. Jinji felt herself grow smaller, crushed beneath the weight of the force, squeezing more and more compact until she was shoved into the corner of her own mind, locked away there.
Jinji tried, but she couldn't fight.
Her limbs were no longer connected to her.
Her mind was slow and sluggish. Her thoughts were confused. Sh
e couldn't focus for even a second, definitely not long enough to struggle, not long enough to provide even the façade of competition over the control of her own body. Her eyes opened, painfully bright. But they weren't hers any longer. She was a spectator, locked far away, staring at a distance.
Rhen's face loomed above. His wet cheeks glistened in the sun. His eyes were closed, pressed shut, creating deep frown wrinkles. His lips wobbled. His shoulders shook. Jinji watched as though staring at him through a clear film, so close but so far away. She wanted to reach up and run her fingers over his cheeks, but her hand remained still by her side.
And then she wasn't still.
Against her will, she rose, sitting up. Jinji watched Rhen jerk, shifting away, eyeing her cautiously, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"I told you we'd meet again," the spirit said, speaking through Jinji's lips, voice similar yet so very different.
Locked away in the prison of her mind, Jinji jerked with understanding, off-balance as though an ocean wave had knocked the land out from beneath her. But she didn’t want to admit what was now so blatantly obvious. She didn't want to believe it could be true. Her soul shook in its little hovel, helplessly watching the scene unfold.
Rhen stood, jumping away, clearing his throat. "It's done."
And there was not a tremor of doubt in his voice. He knew exactly whom he was speaking to. He knew exactly what he'd done. Somehow, someway, he had made a deal with the spirit. The betrayal stabbed like a knife in her heart. Sharp. Merciless. Fatal.
Rhen! Jinji shouted. What did you do? Why?
He didn’t hear. She was gone. She was right where he'd helped send her.
Rhen, she whimpered silently in her cell.
That's right, the spirit suddenly snapped, speaking to Jinji silently so that Rhen could not hear. Her voice brimmed with smug victory, yet her tone was sharp and edged with loathing. He betrayed you, just like I told you he would. Did you really think he would listen after finding out Janu's true identity? Did you really think you could trust him? Did you truly believe he loved you enough to risk the world?
Stop, Jinji cried. Denial—denial was all she had left to fight with.
I told you, the voice continued. I told you that as soon as he discovered your lies, you would lose him. That his love would turn to hate. You chose your brother over him. He chose the world over you.
Rhen! Jinji shouted again.
But the spirit was unmoved by Jinji's pleas. Instead, she turned away from Rhen without so much as a goodbye. But a hand grabbed her arm, spinning them both around.
"You promised to keep her safe," Rhen growled.
Jinji paused.
That was the deal. Of course, that was the trick the spirit had used to make him agree. Jinji's safety in return for his help. The world's safety in return for his help.
Oh, Rhen, she thought sadly. His heart was too big. He had wanted to remove the burden from her shoulders. He had wanted to save her from a decision he knew would break her. Jinji saw everything so clearly now. The spirit had taken his innocent, pure, naïve desire and had twisted it to fit her needs.
Jinji wished to reach out to him. To touch him. To tell him she understood.
But loathing brought goose bumps to her skin—the spirit's loathing. And a moment later, her body was shrugging out of Rhen's grip, pushing against his warm skin as a blast of wind hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him away.
The spirit took a deep breath, struggling for control.
"I promised you no harm would come to her," the spirit said smoothly. But Jinji heard the strain in those words, the gritted pressure the spirit used to force them through her lips.
Lies.
Always lies, just like the shadow had said.
But Rhen didn't hear what Jinji heard. He heard the silky smooth voice the spirit projected, and he nodded. He thought they had an understanding. He thought he could trust her. He thought the spirit was trying to help, that she was on their side. And why not? Jinji had never bothered to fill him in, to tell him any differently.
Rhen! she tried again, cursing her own stupidity.
Jinji needed to talk to him, to tell him the whole truth. If she had just done that in the first place, if she had explained her deal with the shadow and explained the spirit's lies, none of this would have happened. If she had revealed her secrets—all of her secrets—how much heartbreak could have been avoided? If she had trusted in their love, trusted in Rhen's faith in her instead of fearing how he would react to her plan, what might have happened?
It wasn't his fault that he believed the spirit's lies, not really. It was hers.
And she would pay for that mistake with her life.
"Are the phantoms really coming?" Rhen asked with a haunted tone, completely unaware of Jinji's struggle to reach him, to speak with him.
"They are," the spirit said, devoid of emotion. "My shadow-self would like to be sure I hold true to my word. When you arrive at your destinations, you'll see I've done all I could do to help."
Rhen nodded, looking as though he wanted to say more.
But he shook his head, stepping back, stepping away, and watched her intently. And though he was looking into the spirit's eyes, Jinji knew he was seeing her instead. His gaze pierced through the spirit's control and touched her soul, warming her with his love. So rather than fill these last few moments with bitterness, Jinji drank Rhen in and let tenderness fill her heart. She would miss running her hands through his vibrant red hair, would miss the way his forest eyes penetrated her, making her every nerve spark to life. But mostly, she would miss the way he looked at her as he did right now, as though she were everything in his world, as though her presence made life brighter, as though her kiss could heal any wound, as though she was the strongest person in the world.
She wanted to hold him one last time.
To kiss him one last time.
She wanted to whisper goodbye. To tell him she loved him and that she forgave him. To relieve the guilt she knew would fill his heart when he realized the spirit's betrayal. The last thing she wanted was for Rhen to think she left this world hating him when all she'd done since the day they met was fall more and more in love.
But Jinji could do none of those things.
While she fought to move just one finger, to lift it even an inch in his direction, to prove to Rhen in some way she was there, and she would miss him desperately, the spirit turned, removing him from sight. She swatted Jinji's attempts to resist back down as though she were a petulant child and walked away without glancing back.
Why did you make him do that? Jinji yelled.
The spirit ignored her. With the wave of her hand, she wielded the powers that Jinji had taken for granted these past few days. Never before had she felt so hopeless, so helpless, so trapped. In the blink of an eye, a giant bird appeared, and the spirit climbed onto its back, taking off into the clouds. Jinji pushed with all of her strength, aching for the spirit to just turn her head, to look down at the beach once more, to give her one last glance of Rhen.
The spirit didn't.
Tell me why! Jinji tried again. Words were the only weapon she had left.
"Because," the spirit said evenly, "I needed to show you that there is no one left in the world that you can trust. There never was. It will make what's about to come much easier for you to bear."
You failed, Jinji whispered. I still trust him. I still trust other promises as well.
The spirit barked a laugh, letting her face fall into the soft feathers of the eagle soaring beneath them, drunk with her position of power. "My shadow-self? Don't tell me he fooled you?"
Jinji tried to hide the anxiety building within her mind, the fear that maybe the spirit and the shadow had fooled them all, had played Rhen and her against each other for their own sick amusement, had been working together the entire time. She shoved the doubts back down, holding on to her courage, infusing that optimism into her voice.
The shadow and I have a deal, Ji
nji said, surprising herself with her confidence.
"Oh, I know all about this deal," the spirit retorted, spitting that last word as though it were vile. "There is one problem with your deal—it relies on my actions. My shadow-self waits for me to betray him, and you are just his safeguard. But I'm not plotting to betray him, not this time. So you see, Jinji, there is no way out for you. I wish things could have been better, could have been different. I've enjoyed many lifetimes in this world, but this one is the exception. I have never been so happy to leave my spirit realm as I am now. I'm ready. There will be no escape for you."
Jinji didn't know if her soul could tremble, but she felt as though she did. Shivers worked their way across her mind, foreboding and dreadful.
The spirit was just lying.
This was another ploy, another plot.
The shadow was right—Jinji couldn't believe a word the spirit said.
She would not let doubt overcome her. The shadow had promised he would keep Janu alive, that he would keep them both alive. She had to have faith in that promise, it was the only hope left to cling to.
Where are we traveling? Jinji asked, changing the subject, soothing her mind.
"Can you not guess?"
Jinji glanced through her open eyes, watching the world as though it were a reflection on the water, shimmering in and out of reach, not quite real. Below the clouds stretched an endless expanse of turquoise-blue, broken only by the occasional pearly crest of a splashing wave. And in the distance, Jinji could already see those ivory peaks poking through the clouds. They were traveling fast, speed enhanced by the pressure of the wind against their backs.
The Gates, she murmured.
"It will end at the place where it all began."
Jinji didn't know what to say after that. All she could do was look ahead, peer through the window her eyes provided, and watch the mountains grow larger. Straining her senses, she yearned to feel the wind on her cheeks, to smell the salty air, to live. Every so often, the coolness of the breeze touched her, but she missed the way it whipped her short ebony hair, brought excited tears to her eyes and a shot of adrenaline to her heart.
The Phoenix Born (A Dance of Dragons #3) Page 22
