The Shadow Soul (A Dance of Dragons #1)

Chapter Eighteen

Rhen

~ Rayfort ~

"All hail!" Rhen said. But what he really meant was, bless the spirits the ceremony was almost over. He wasn't sure how much more standing his feet could take.

Whyllem had pulled him to the taverns last night, and using his trusted sleeping potion, Rhen spent half the night searching for any signs of an attack. But there was nothing. No signs of any Ourthuri infiltrators. No rumblings by the docks. No gossip. After a while, he had even searched for signs of Jin's mysterious shadow, but still nothing.

An evening of empty wanderings had turned into a sleepless morning, and it had all been in vain. In fact, all Rhen had managed to do was arrive late for the ceremony and further annoy his father.

Just what he needed.

Shifting his gaze to the side, Rhen looked at the babe being held aloft before the throne by King Whylfrick. Red robes of the kingdom of Whyl draped around his tiny body, cascading all the way to the floor. His curious hazel eyes were open, darting around the room. Not a single cry had escaped his lips, and it filled Rhen with a sense of pride.

Whyllean.

He had been named.

Whyllean, Rhen's nephew, the future king of Whylkin.

"All hail!" Rhen repeated with the crowd.

The baby had been dipped in the spiritual waters, blessed with the prayers of Whylkin, and told the story of his ancestors for the first time. But most importantly, Rhen and his brother Whyllem had just renounced their claim to the throne, ensuring the proper line of succession, thereby ensuring the future of the kingdom.

"All hail!" Rhen yelled for a third time.

Even as his spirits were high, fed by the energy in the throne room, a pit gnawed at his stomach. Rhen knew he had been right. The Naming. Everything centered around the ceremony. But all of the nobles in the kingdom had been sequestered in the throne room for hours and not a single thing was amiss.

He scanned the room. His father beamed. Whyltarin shone with pride. Whyllem with love. Farther into the crowd, everyone wore cheerful smiles; not a single person hinted bitterness at the ceaseless reign of Whyl.

It was perfect.

Too perfect.

And it made Rhen's skin crawl.

"All hail!" He shouted for a fourth and final time. One call for each of the spirits, as was tradition.

The king lowered Whyllean and stepped back to sit on the throne, resting the babe in his lap. He spoke the closing words, but Rhen was too busy shifting his feet and looking anxiously around the room to pay attention.

Slowly, starting from the very back of the room, the nobles entered in a procession line, waiting to kneel before their future king and swear loyalty to their kingdom. Rhen searched every face for Ourthuri skin, every wrist for powdered over tattoos and every hand for a concealed dagger, but there were no enemies hiding amongst them today.

Before he knew it, it was his turn. Rhen stepped forward, raised his right hand to his heart, and bowed deeply before his nephew.

"I swear my undying loyalty to Whyllean, Son of Prince Whyltarin, Son of King Whylfrick, and the newly named future king of Whylkin. May the Sons of Whyl forever watch over this land and protect its people from all who wish them harm. In the name of Whyl the Conqueror, who united the lands, may the spirits watch over and protect Whyllean from harm, may he know the joy of seeing his sons become kings, and their sons after that. All hail."