The Shadow Soul (A Dance of Dragons #1)

Chapter Six

Rhen

~ Roninhythe ~

Priceless.

That was the only way to describe Jin's face when they walked in, Martha doing exactly what Rhen had expected of her. She couldn’t resist goading a young boy on, couldn't resist the attention.

As another chuckle poured from his lips at the mere memory, Rhen wished he could relive the scene again—just once—maybe twice.

But, he remembered, looking at Jin in the center of the tavern, arms still crossed awkwardly over his chest, face still glowing red—there was more fun to be had.

"Sit down," he announced loudly, starting to play up the role of the womanizing prince—his usual fallback, especially in this tavern.

Jin looked at him with utter confusion, so taking charge, Rhen pushed him over toward a booth where the boy sat down stiffly, still not uncrossing his arms.

"Relax, Jin, these women aren't here to bite," Rhen said, slightly caring and slightly goading. The boy's eyes sparked, almost taking him up on the challenge, but then softened.

Breasts interrupted Rhen's eyesight, filling his vision. Good old Martha, he thought, always putting the goods on display. She was older than most of the women in the tavern, but she made up for it by pulling her corset the lowest and proudly displaying her ample bosom. 

"Maybe he's never kissed a girl," she said, her voice high pitched and airy, at least until she had a few ales in her and then it would drop a few octaves, the ladylike persona gone. Rhen had even heard her belch before, alongside the men, no shame—just the way he liked a girl. Unafraid. Real.

Thinking of ale, Rhen reached out, grasping his cup and taking a long, full gulp. Damn, it tasted good. He'd been far too long in the forest.

"Cheers," he said, lifting the cup. Jin paused for a moment, unsure, then followed suit, clanking his glass against Rhen's. He took a sip, winced, and then grinned. "Be careful," Rhen warned, "if you're not used to it, that drink will go right to your head." Jin would most assuredly be an entertaining drunk, but Rhen needed a few things to look forward to on the journey ahead.

Jin nodded, eyes bulging as Martha came back boasting a cup of her own and sat next to him on the booth. Rhen picked his ale up, hiding his smile behind a large gulp.

"Have you? Kissed a girl?" Martha asked, leaning forward and closer.

Rhen watched a blush creep up Jin's dark cheeks, turning his skin a rosy copper as his gaze flashed back and forth between the view before his eyes and the foamy rim of his glass.

Jin just shook his head.

Rhen paused—he could intervene, save the boy—but why?

Martha pressed forward, figuratively and literally, asking, "You've never had a sweetheart?"

Another shake, but this time a shadow fell over Jin's eyes, a darkness crept into his expression. The blush was pushed aside by an ashen hue and his eyes fell to his cup, not looking anywhere else in the room.

Rhen's brows closed together as worry clenched his heart. If Jin had a sweetheart, she was dead now, along with the rest of his people. A memory was playing in the boy's head, flashing behind eyes that had grown distant, and Rhen couldn’t help but feel sorry, feel hurt himself watching the pain pierce his new friend's entire being.

Just as he was about to speak up, about to intervene, another voice entered the conversation, and Rhen turned just in time to open his arms for the female that landed in his lap.