The Shadow Soul (A Dance of Dragons #1)

Chapter Twenty

Rhen

~ Rayfort ~

Rhen fell to the ground, hand pressed tightly against his stomach, trying to hold in the blood forcing its way out.

He looked up at his mother, desperate, pleading for mercy.

She stepped back, lifted the knife to her own throat. And suddenly, something clicked into place.

This was the shadow.

Jin had tried to tell him, to warn him, but Rhen had never really believed the boy until that instant—looking into his mother's empty, soulless eyes. Something had taken control of her body. Something had ripped away her will.

That same thing wanted Rhen dead.

And it might have succeeded, he thought, pushing harder against his weak muscles.

His mother looked up sharply, eyes widening at something over Rhen's shoulder. The knife dug into her throat, pushing deeper, trying to break through delicate but sturdy skin.

"No," he tried to say. It came out softer than a whisper.

In a flash, someone had jumped over his body, crying out. Rhen recognized the bronze armor of the royal guard, the red leather overcoat. Pride surged in his chest at the sight of the rearing stallion of Whylkin, still charging into battle, still strong.

The man reached out, stretched for the queen's hand, for the knife.

The instant they touched, time stopped.

The guard's skin rippled, trembled. It grew in size, inflating, swelling larger and larger. The colors on his jacket seemed to melt, to mix together. They dripped down into his flesh, spinning and turning, separating into individual strands.

Rhen watched with widening eyes. The man was a monster. An aura sprung to life around his person, dragging his image wider and wider, until the man's body was encased in a glowing shell, white with veins of color intermixing, weaving together, and pulling against each other. It brightened, whiter and whiter, growing, expanding, becoming more vaporous, until it burst.

The man fell.

The queen stumbled back, blinking. Her eyes, green and so like his, had returned to normal—mulled over with confusion but vibrant and full of life. 

Rhen looked at the guard. But he was no longer a guard.

He was a boy, wearing dark leather boots and a fine white shirt that was splattered with dirt. Looking closer, Rhen spotted fingers, copper toned as though kissed by the sun, glowing despite being indoors. It was the only bit of exposed flesh Rhen could see, but it was enough. Even presented with his back, Rhen recognized his friend.

"Jin," he said, hoarse, pained.

Of course Jin had come to fight the shadow, to save Rhen yet again. It was no surprise, and yet his heart felt just a little bit lighter, a little more able to hold on.

Reaching out, Rhen extended one hand, keeping the other firmly planted against his wound.

"Jin," he repeated, softer. But the sound was deafened by the crack of splintering glass.

Rhen arched his head up, peering at the windows so far overhead just in time to see them burst apart, shatter, rain down with sparkling fury. He tried to look away, to shield his eyes, but they were glued to the spot. Blinding flashes followed, crackling through the empty windows, half a dozen bolts of light, maybe more.