The Phoenix Born (A Dance of Dragons #3) Read online

  "Good, then it's settled," Jinji said, pausing as a weight fell free. Rhen watched as her whole body visibly slackened, shoulders falling as her eyes grew weary.

  "Not quite," Whyllem said, leaning forward. "There are measures that must be taken, the swearing of loyalties, the punishment of those who led the rebellion to ensure it does not happen again. Promises are words, and I would see actions taken before the conversation is over."

  Jinji bit her lip, nodding thoughtfully. "I agree, but it's been a long day, and I need to rest. The details can be discussed tomorrow morning."

  "Very well," Whyllem solemnly agreed. "Our guests will remain in the castle for the night, so we can resume the meeting tomorrow." And the tone with which he said it made it clear that those guests would be staying whether they wanted to or not.

  But Jinji didn’t say anything further. She turned toward the door, eyes skimming over Rhen and then shifting to her brother. Before Rhen could rush to her side, she moved away from him, to Janu, reaching her arm out for her brother to take.

  He tried to ignore the way his chest clenched at her rejection. What would he have done if one of his brothers had come back from the dead? Probably the same. He likely would've forgotten anyone else even existed. He swallowed the hurt back down, trying not to take it personally. Jinji would come for him when she could.

  An arm came around his shoulder as the rest of the people began to file out of the room until only the two Sons of Whyl were left behind. Whyllem tugged Rhen through the door and into the hall, turning him away from the guest corridor and toward the royal quarters—away from Jinji and toward his family.

  "That had to have been the fastest peace talk in history," Whyllem mused, no longer shrouded in the attitude of a king, just an older brother once more.

  "Jin can be very stubborn when she wants to be," Rhen said, grinning to himself over the truth in that statement, over the many times she had been infuriatingly stubborn with him. But it was one of her many charms.

  "Do you think it will hold?"

  "I hope so."

  "Me too," his brother agreed. "But if it doesn't, I still have the Lord of Fire on my side, right?"

  Rhen sighed, heart sinking. "Whyllem, I cannot do that again. Not ever."

  They paused in the hall. "You saved us, Rhen. You saved your family, your people, your dynasty. That is not something to regret."

  "I don't," he said cautiously. And he didn't, not entirely. Guilt—that was the overwhelming sensation in his gut, guilt and thick coiling ropes of disgust. But not regret. "But I am a different person now. My allegiances have changed. And I can't put my dragon or myself through that again, not even to save your life. He might look like a monster, but he was created to save the world, not destroy it. We both were."

  "Yesterday, I truly thought it was over. Everything our ancestors built, I thought my legacy would be to watch it crumble." Whyllem paused, holding Rhen's eyes, squeezing his shoulder in a tight, emotion-fueled grip. "But the people I love are still alive, the city I love is healing, the kingdom I rule is united once more, and it's all because of you. You've given us a new chance at life, Rhen, and I promise I will not waste it. I will not put you in the position where you have to choose between your soul and your family ever again."

  They stayed like that for a moment, connected.

  Rhen could hardly believe his brother's words. For the first time in his life, he felt accepted by his family for who he really was, not for who he was trying to be. His throat grew thick with unsaid feeling. His eyes began to burn. And a warmth sprouted deep in his chest.

  He coughed, covering the rising tide of emotion.

  Whyllem, he noticed, did the same.

  "I think I could use some ale," Rhen muttered.

  Whyllem slapped his back with agreement. "Come, spend some time with your nephew, the future king, before he's put to bed for the night, and then we'll have some ale. I could use a pint myself."

  In that moment, there was not a plan in the world that sounded better. So Rhen stepped forward with his brother, forgetting the doubts and the burdens that had weighed him down all day. Tomorrow, there would be time for that. Tonight, he would make time for his family because if the past few weeks were anything to go by, he had no clue where the next morning might take him.

  5

  JINJI

  ~ RAYFORT ~

  Jinji led Janu by the arm, hurriedly stepping from the throne room. It took all of her focus not to look longingly over her shoulder back toward Rhen. But she and her sibling needed this, needed time to be alone together, to regrow their bond after so many years apart. There was so much she wanted Janu to know, so much she wanted to share. And there was so much she wished to learn of his life, of his trials, his hopes for the future. And though she hated to admit it, she needed to figure out how much Janu knew of the shadow and the plan fate had in mind for them.

  "Where are we going?" he asked as they traversed the castle halls.

  "To your room, to talk," she said, smiling encouragingly in his direction.

  He nodded, glancing around. "When we were young, I never imagined places like this existed. But it's odd to realize white stone walls have become more familiar to me than tan hides pulled tight across a wooden frame. You make me think of home. Of how it used to be."

  Jinji squeezed his hand tight, swallowing the block in her throat back down, noticing the red strain around the corner of Janu's eyes and the heaviness with which he spoke. "You make me think of the old days as well," she whispered. "I miss the forest. I miss how simple life used to be."

  He silently agreed.

  They didn't need to speak after that. Not for a while. Each sibling got lost in their own memories, their own overwhelming nostalgia. When Jinji pulled open the door to Janu's room, it felt so heavy compared to the hide they used to shift aside to enter their home. When they entered the space, it felt so stale compared to the old hut thrumming with the sounds of billowing wind and shifting branches outside. And when she looked at the bed, it was so plush compared to the crude wooden pallet they used to share.

  Jinji dropped Janu's hand, wandering to the window and opening it wide, letting a little fresh air in. And then she joined her twin on the mattress, resting opposite him the way she used to as a little girl, holding out her hand in the dark and waiting for him to take it. He did. The fingers she held were longer than she remembered, thinner, more callused, and yet she couldn't remember a moment that felt more perfect in her life, more right.

  "Do you remember how angry Father used to get when we'd keep him awake in the night, whispering secrets to each other for hours, barely pausing to breathe?" Janu asked. Through the moonlight, Jinji saw a small smile grace his lips, a sad one.

  "And Mother would tell him to ignore it, to go back to bed," Jinji added.

  "But five minutes later, he would be up again, grumbling at us to keep it down."

  "Which only made us laugh louder."

  "And only kept us up longer."

  Jinji grasped his hand tighter. "Do you remember when we used to sneak out in the night?"

  He nodded against the pillow, eyes shining bright. "That's when I taught you to use a bow. And we used to swim in the pond, meeting Leoa and Maniuk and the other children while all of the elders were fast asleep."

  "Mother confessed to me years later that she always knew when we left the hut, that we were never as sneaky as we believed ourselves to be. Our parents would take turns watching from the trees, just in case anything happened, protecting us."

  "Really?" he asked, disbelieving. "When did she tell you this?"

  Jinji's breath hitched. Until this moment, she had forgotten the memory entirely, had suppressed it. "She told me on the," and then she stopped, voice cracking. Jinji coughed lightly, clearing the block in her throat, unable to remove the fragility from her tone. She continued, barely whispering, "Mother told me that on the anniversary of your passing. I was fifteen, and even after all of those years, the guilt never le
ssened. She said she always heard us leave, always woke up to the sound of our feet pattering against the dirt. And the only time she didn't was on the night that you died, or well, the night we all thought you had died. She never forgave herself."

  A tear rolled down Jinji's cheek. She noticed water on Janu's face as well and watched his skin glisten in the moonlight. They were mirror images of one another, same bone structure, same skin tone, same somber expression. Twins. Two halves of one whole, reunited once more. But at what cost?

  "That night, it was the first time he took control of my body," Janu murmured. Jinji strained to hear his voice over the soft breeze slipping in through the window.

  "The shadow?" she asked.

  "The voice, yes, I guess you could call him the shadow." Janu shook his head, shuddering, closing his eyes against the memory overwhelming his thoughts. "I was confused. I don't remember leaving the hut, leaving you. I woke in the middle of the forest, alone and covered in dirt. And then the world went black. I woke again later in a house, stolen food on the ground at my feet and a horse by my side. The world went black on and off for a long time after that, many months of never knowing when I would wake, where I would find myself, what I had done. Eventually, I woke in the great palace at the top of the Gates, and that's where I stayed for more years than I care to remember."

  "And you have no memories of how you got there?" Jinji asked, heart squeezed painfully tight with sympathy and sadness for his stolen life. "I remember every moment of losing you. I woke in the middle of the night, spurred awake by a terrible nightmare, and you were gone. I knew you were dead, I sensed in my bones that you were somewhere beyond my reach. Father sent out the hunters, and they returned with the remains of a great bear and a tiny body ripped to unrecognizable pieces. A body I now realize must not have been yours, but some other child the shadow needed to use."

  "I don't remember everything," Janu said, turning away from her to gaze up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, fighting his inner turmoil. "Mostly I remember the pain. Getting into the Gates is no easy feat. I nearly died, over and over again. I came close to drowning. I broke my bones crashing into the rocks. But the voice, he said he controls the souls of the living, controls when they move on to his world. And no matter how close I got to death, he hung on. He wouldn't let me pass over. He said I was needed at the mountain castle, that I would be safe there. And I was, in body anyway, once the initial wounds healed. So secluded from the world, there was no one who could harm me. No one I could talk to. I lived off the vegetables in the gardens, taught myself to tend to them, learned how to read through the books in the library."

  "And the shadow was your only companion for all those years?" Jinji shivered at the thought. What lies had the shadow placed in her twin's head? What visions of death and destruction?

  "Yes. He was my friend and at the same time, my worst enemy. We talked frequently, debated, and shared stories. But more often than not, the voice showed me things, terrible things he'd done when he was not in my head. Sometimes when he controls my body, he lets me see what he sees, to taunt me I think. When you came to the palace, I was there for a few moments, watching powerless, unable to do anything. Unable to hug you the way I wanted to. Unable to cry the happy tears I wanted to cry. He lets me see flashes, and then he blocks me out at other times, when he doesn't want me to be aware of what's going on."

  Jinji bit her lip, uncertain. Now was the time to ask Janu what he knew, what the shadow had revealed. Yet at the same time, she was terrified of the answer. What if he knew what she had to do? Would he hate her? Would he hate himself? Jinji swallowed, tugging on Janu's arm. He shifted his gaze back to her, letting his head fall to the side. His brown eyes were dark with worry, clouded with concern, stitched with fear.

  "Janu?" she questioned softly. His expression didn't change. He still looked at her with a bleak stare. Her heart pounded, impossibly loud in her chest. But if her brother noticed her anxiety, he didn't say anything. He waited for the question they both knew was coming. "What has the shadow told you? What do you know about me, about the coming war, about how to defeat him?"

  He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "He speaks of his spirit-self often. He hates her, Jinji, and he loves her too. And though I've witnessed firsthand the evil he has committed, I can't help but sympathize with the thoughts I've been hearing for nearly a decade. I know what it feels like to be alone, to be abandoned by those you love most, to be forgotten. I do not resent you or our family. I know you were tricked into leaving me behind. But I understand his sentiments because for a long while, I felt them too."

  "I never forgot you," Jinji rushed to say, sitting up and looking down at Janu sadly. If he only knew how often she thought of him, how many times she sat alone in that clearing, weaving pictures of the brother she had lost so many years before. If he only knew how her heart hurt for so long, how it throbbed with missing him, breaking over and over again for years.

  "I know," he said, shifting, turning away toward the window, unable to look at her. "I know that now, but you don't understand what it was like. The voice would visit the tribe often, he would show me visions of you laughing and happy and smiling. And I knew you would never stop loving me, but I knew you had moved on as well. Yet I was stuck, I couldn't move on from the thoughts he whispered in my head."

  "Janu," she whimpered, throwing her arms around his shoulders, not letting him move any farther away. "Please, you must know I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped missing you. Never."

  He turned, hugging her close. "I know," he mumbled, voice muffled against her shoulder.

  Jinji pulled back, brushing the tears from his cheek, holding his face with her palm so he could not look away. "We are together now, and that's all that matters."

  He smiled, reaching up to hold the hand cupping his cheek, clutching her fingers as though his life depended on it. "I know, Jinji. And we'll never be parted again. Whatever you need to do to rid this poisonous voice from my mind, whatever you need to do to defeat this phantom army, I promise I will help. I will do whatever it takes to stop the shadow, to make things go back to the way they were."

  Jinji held her features steady, using all the strength she possessed not to move a muscle. But inside, her chest sunk, caving in as though punched. Inside, her soul was crumbling. Because she knew, with those few innocently spoken words, that Janu had no idea that his life was the very thing keeping the shadow in this world. Part of her was relieved. Part of her was terrified. But all of her hung on the edge, wavering.

  Glancing at his open, honest eyes, Jinji didn't know if she could keep lying to him. The part of Janu that was still her brother, that was good, was kind, was unmarred by the shadow—that part deserved to know the truth. He deserved to make his own choice. But the very idea terrified Jinji because she knew deep in her heart that if Janu knew ending his life would save the world, he would do it. Without hesitation. There would be no choice to make. The guilt would destroy him. Janu would not be able to live knowing so many people died to keep it that way. And she wasn't ready to lose him. Not yet. Not ever.

  So instead, the guilt coiled her insides, wrapping impossibly tight, suffocating her. People would die because of her. The world might end because she couldn't bring herself to weave a knife in her hand and stab him right here, right now. In one move, the whole war could be over, at least for a time.

  But even as she thought it, Jinji knew there was no way she could follow through. The very idea of ending Janu's life made her ill. And it wouldn't be as easy as stabbing him in the heart, the shadow would see to that. If she tried to kill Janu, it would be a battle, nasty and unclean, a fight to the death in the ether. She would have to want it with all of her heart, an impossible task.

  Yet sensing him next to her, alive, Jinji couldn't bear to look at him. In his face, she saw herself—saw her failure. Nausea swirled in her gut. The urge to vomit was overwhelming. And the longer she tried to meet her twin's warm gaze, the longer she thought
of the impossible choice at hand and the more painful the feeling grew.

  Jinji jumped to her feet, releasing Janu and stumbling back. "Why don't you rest? It's been a long day."

  "But…" He trailed off, watching her with concern. There was nothing she could hide from Janu even after so many years apart. He watched her closely then nodded, understanding filling his irises. "We'll find a way, Jinji. I sense your terror with each breath you breathe. You can't hide your fear from me. But this voice in my head, it can be defeated. He's been scared before, I've sensed it. And he would have no reason to be afraid if he couldn't be destroyed somehow."

  "Oh, Janu." Jinji sighed, biting her lips to keep from saying anything more. He trusted her, naively, completely. But the sympathy oozing from his body language just made her heart clench, throbbing with the sharp slices of her betrayal.

  Jinji needed to get out.

  She couldn't stand another minute of his compassion.

  Couldn't stand lying for one second longer.

  "Sleep, sister," Janu murmured, stretching out on the bed, turning away and leaving her be. "You need to rest your weary mind, to clear it of these dark fears. There will be more time later to talk, to share memories of what we have missed."

  It was all the dismissal she needed.

  Jinji ran from the room.

  Down the hall.

  Around a corner.

  Down another hall.

  Farther and farther. But the more she ran, the more she realized there was no escape. There was no way to outrun her own mind. So she stopped, collapsing against the wall, heaving in deep breaths, drowning. The world twisted into a spiraling vortex as she sank to the ground, crumbling to a pile of limbs on the floor. The castle stones disappeared. Her vision grew blurry until all she could see were visions of her own failure.