The Shadow Soul (A Dance of Dragons #1)

Chapter Thirteen

Jinji

~ Da'astiku ~

Jinji blinked.

But when her eyes opened, it was all the same.

Darkness. Complete and total darkness.

When the captain said he could hide them, she had had her doubts. But when he moved his desk a few inches to the side, revealing a trap door to a secret compartment, she relaxed.

Now, shrouded in black with nothing but the echo of her breath against Rhen's, Jinji's hands were starting to clam. Her heart was starting to race. And her breath was starting to quicken.

Closing her eyes did nothing to halt the fear, because even then all she saw was shadow. Unlike in dreams, where opening her eyes was all it took, here there was no escape.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood, feeling the imaginary creep of invisible hands. The shadow was here. The nightmare. She could feel it around her, ensnaring her just at her moment of escape.

And the only image that kept flashing in her mind was of Maniuk. Of his eyes—his clouded over, white eyes the moment before he took his own life.

A shiver jetted down her back. Jinji bit her lip to keep from yelping.

No, she thought, there is nothing. But try as she might to reason, to use logic, the darkness had invaded more than just her vision. It was haunting her, taunting her.

"Jin?" Rhen's voice floated into her ear, a cool breeze. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. Then remembered he could not see.

"Yes." She forced the word out as quietly as possible, hoping the slight crack would not give her away.

"Jin, can I ask…" Pause. She waited. "Can I ask what happened?"

"We are supposed to be quiet," she whispered back, but hoped he would not listen. The words were helping ease her mind, were helping distract her from the darkness.

"I know," he said. A hint of pain laced into the tone, just enough to make him sound like a child, to sound vulnerable. "I just…" He sighed. "Did Captain Pygott suffer? Can you tell me that much?"

Jinji winced. That was not the question she expected, but her mind flashed to the soft blue eyes that had wished her farewell, the strong arms that had pushed her to freedom. "No," she said, a pang of loss tightened her heart. "No, it was over quickly. He raced down to your cabin to wake me and helped me escape just as the Ourthuri were breaking down the door. I believe they acted very swiftly, as they did with everyone else."

A deep, shaky breath was her only response. In and out. In and out. Then a sniffle. Another breath. A deep swallow—the gulp was loud enough to hear.

Jinji sat still, experiencing Rhen's pain with him, wishing she could help. But she knew better than most that there was very little anyone could do to mend a broken heart.

Her fingers twitched, itching to reach across the small enclosure and wrap around his, but she remained still. Hand-holding was the comfort of a woman, of a—of something she wasn't.

Men preferred their pain in solace and in silence. At least that was her experience. Her father had always grieved at night, when he thought the rest of the world was fast asleep and safely in the realm of their dreams, a place where they would not hear his cries.

But Jinji heard.

She always heard. Her heart ached alongside his, burning with the memory of her brother Janu, but she never reacted. Never stood from her sleeping pad to provide comfort. Because her father, like Rhen, needed to feel strong. Untouchable.