The Shadow Soul (A Dance of Dragons #1)

Chapter Twelve

Rhen

~ Da'astiku ~

A goddess.

Every time Rhen closed his eyes, he saw her. A vision in gold. His head was nestled in her lap and she looked down over him, hidden behind a veil of shimmering metal, but there was affection in that gaze. Rhen could still feel her fingers brush over his cheeks, push his hair to the side, run over his lower lip. His skin tingled, alive at the touch.

In the dream, she leaned down, pressing a long, soft kiss to his lips.

Then his eyes opened and he was back here, shoved in a crate underneath some sort of moving contraption, unsure of where he was or who was holding him there.

But something was certain: King Razzaq had not killed him, despite the ringing pain in his head that said otherwise.

Rhen sighed, trying to shift his sore muscles, but his wide body was cramped in the small space. There was nothing to do but wait.

He closed his eyes again, welcoming the vision of the nameless woman. Who was she? Was she even real?

The bouncing stopped.

Rhen's eyes tore open, flicking through the darkness. He balled his hands into fists, trying to reach for his sword but he could not access his hip—he couldn't even tell if his weapon was still there.

Rhen took a deep breath, darting his vision in circles, waiting for the crack of daylight. His body tensed, all muscles contracting in preparation to strike.

Suddenly, he was drenched in whiteness. The sun enveloped his gaze, blinding him.

Rhen blinked rapidly, waiting for hands to grab him.

A black silhouette haunted his vision, slowly coming into focus.

"You're awake," a voice said—a somewhat high-pitched voice that Rhen recognized.

"Jin!" A goofy smile wrapped around his face as the boy's features filtered into view—the short hair, the small grin. He still wore Rhen's clothes, far too loose and far too Whylkin for this city.

Rhen sat up. "How…what…?"

Jin lightly tapped his arm.

"I will explain in a moment," he said and offered his hand. Rhen ignored it, standing slowly on his own.

When his feet touched land, Rhen realized they stood in an alleyway, a metal enclosure open to the sky. Everything was gray, dull—not at all like the golden palace.

He spun. Behind him was a small box strapped to the back of a golden carriage—a royal carriage. Rhen stepped to the side, just in time to view a head covered in gold, hidden behind a draped veil.

He gasped—breath stopping—and stepped closer.

But the woman wasn't looking at him—she was looking past him at Jin.

"Good luck," she said, her voice soft and full of emotion. And then she leaned back, hidden behind a heavy curtain. Two knocks and the cart started rolling away.

Rhen fought the urge to chase after her, stuck in his spot by one thought—she was Ourthuri. And by the look of it, royal.

His mother would kill him if he fell for a foreigner.

Would kill him.

His eyes closed and the vision returned. Heat flooded his veins at the sight of her, almost as though his body remembered something his brain did not.