The Spirit Heir (A Dance of Dragons #2) goes on-sale in only TEN days!!!!
Here's a little teaser in celebration of the upcoming release day :) I hope you enjoy the first chapter!
1
JINJI
~ RAYFORT ~
Something about the dark made time pass both
slowly and quickly. There was no dawn. No dusk. No trail of twinkling stars
leading to the start of a new day.
And yet, there were other signs.
The drip of invisible water, counting the seconds as they
wandered by. The scuff of metal on stone, hinting that other life rested out of
reach. The pain of raw flesh, promising that death was close, but still so far
away.
And the screams,
Jinji thought, shuddering. The screams came once a day, echoing through the
void, crawling over her skin, haunting her.
There had been no screams for a while, but that didn’t mean
they were done. It meant they were closer than ever. And Jinji knew that time
was running out. It would soon be her cries of agony that rippled across these
moist stones, filling the damp air.
Every day someone new was taken. At first she didn’t know
why, but gradually Jinji came to understand. One man shouted, I don't know anything. Another, I'm sorry. Still more pleading for
forgiveness, denying any involvement, promising to swear loyalty. The traitors
of Whylkin groveling at the feet of their failures.
And somehow, Jinji had been placed among them, to rot in the
dungeons until it was her turn to be questioned—and the spirits knew what else.
She shifted her weight, wincing as the shackles holding her
hands scraped against her wrists, a stinging pain she was almost getting used
to. Almost.
I can help you,
the voice said.
Stop. Jinji
sighed, wishing for peace in what little time she had left.
Somehow, her mind had been invaded. When she had awakened in
the dungeons, something woke up with her—inside of her. Jinji had no idea who,
or what, it was—crawling around, making a home, trying to force a past on Jinji
that she wanted nothing to do with. All she knew was that she had touched the
shadow and now found herself possessed.
Talk to me. Let me
ease your worry, your fears. You do not have to be alone, not while I am here.
There is much to be done. Please—
Jinji gritted her teeth and slammed her head back against
the stone, blinking as colors flashed before her eyes.
Get out of my head,
she yelled back—but the voice was gone, pushed out by the pain as it always
was. The voice would return, Jinji knew. It would try to talk to her again, to
coax her into submission under the cover of kindness.
But mostly, the voice came to her in dreams—the only time
she could not force it from her mind. Memories springing to life in sleep,
calling to her, urging Jinji to welcome them. Sometimes, she wanted to give in,
to open her thoughts, and let the mystery reveal itself. But then what? Would
the voice have control? Would Jinji still remember who she was, would she
remember her family, would she remember Rhen?
It was not a risk she was willing to take.
Pain was familiar to her now. She had begun to welcome it
with open arms. Pain at least was predictable, comforting in that it always
felt the same.
Pain of the body.
The pain in her soul was different though. It crept up on
her when she least expected it, stealing her breath, making her chin quiver and
her eyes burn with dryness.
Rhen. She sighed.
The ache in her heart scorched, the sort of fire only Rhen
could quell. If he were alive. If he could forgive her. If she could just see
him one more time.
So many questions without answers.
The last time Jinji had seen Rhen, a day that seemed so far
away yet so close to her heart, he had been dying. Stabbed in the gut by the
shadow, left in a heap on the ground, cradling his wound, holding onto life with
all the strength he had left.
Jinji had abandoned him to fight the shadow, to kill the
dark spirit that had murdered her people, to save Rhen from its deadly grasp.
But she had woken here, surrounded by night with no memory of the fight. No
idea if the shadow still lived or if she had succeeded in its demise. Or far
worse, if it rested inside of her now.
Would she ever know if she had been fast enough?
The possibilities weighed heavily on her conscience.
If Rhen had died, it would explain why she remained in
captivity. No other man of Whylkin would vouch for her loyalty, would risk
himself to release her from this prison. But if he were dead, then everything
was lost. Everything. Rhen had become her family, her best friend, her home. If
he were gone, Jinji was not sure she could live—how much fight did one person
have in them? How much suffering could one person overcome?
Yet, if he had lived…
The possibility scared Jinji even more. Because then she was
truly alone, abandoned without even his memory to hold close. If Rhen were
alive, then he had willingly left her down here to slowly suffer, to die where
he could not hear or see. By now, he would surely know she was a woman—meaning
he had chosen not to forgive her, meaning her lie was more than he could bear.
Nonetheless, Jinji held tight to the dream that he still
breathed, the hope that she could win back his trust, the prayer of a chance to
try.
That wish was all she had.
It made her open her eyes every morning and say goodbye to
the warm embrace of sleep, an embrace that could easily be everlasting if she
let it.
Jinji breathed deeply, letting her chest stretch and expand
while she welcomed the spirits into her vision.
There was one other way Jinji had learned to tell time in
the dark. Her favorite way. A small indulgence. Once a day, between the screams
when her fear seemed too strong and her grief too heavy, Jinji wove the
elemental spirit threads.
The illusions came even easier since dueling the shadow,
almost as though something had been unlatched inside of her, some gateway that
had kept them blocked was now open. The first night, Jinji wove an entire
forest around her—complete with a breeze, the warmth of the sun, the presence
of her brother Janu—so real she wanted to leave it there, to pretend. But,
Jinji had come to learn that the truth, hard as it was, needed to be accepted.
Most of the time.
Jinji sat straighter, ignoring the strain of her muscles,
and closed her eyes. Hands limp at her sides, the spirits heeded her mental
command, letting her dreams unfold in real life.
She opened her lids.
And there he stood, so real, red hair glowing in the dark.
Rhen.
Fingers inching forward on their own accord, Jinji's body
yearned for him, for his comfort. For a moment, she imagined this as truth.
Rhen stepped forward. His arm reached to open the bars, but
his illusion stepped through them, ignoring the metal and meeting no
resistance. Silent steps brought him closer, closer, until he was kneeling
before Jinji—green eyes like a fire in the night, drawing her home.
His callused hand stretched forward, just enough for his
palm to gently kiss her cheek, his thumb to rub her soft skin. And his touch
felt real—warm and sturdy. That was how strong this illusion was tied, almost
solid, so close to alive—so, so close.
Jinji's eyes began to water, remembering the truth—that this
was false, all in her head.
But still, commanded by her thoughts, Rhen sat down next to
her, opening his embrace and encircling her in his muscular arms. Her torso
leaned in, letting the illusion hold her, letting the dream wash over her. His
arms tightened, hugging her close, a touch that felt firm.
And then the tears came. Slowly at first. Then racking her
body, shaking her limbs and scattering her breath.
It was the only time Jinji let herself cry—surrounded by the
love she wished could be real. The only time she felt safe enough to let her
fear surface, and her guilt.
A crack echoed down the hall.
Jinji sat up, alert. Rhen disappeared.
Time had run out.
Far away, boots clicked on stone.
Her heart skipped.
Somehow, Jinji knew they were coming for her. Dread filled
her, threatening to boil over, but she hardened her muscles—fighting.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Jinji promised herself that
they would not break her. They would never see her cry. Her pain would not echo
down these halls—there would be no screaming hour today.
The boots continued. Soft. Getting louder. The beat was
steady. Slow. Menacing. Steps of complete control.
Jinji calmed her breath, firming her resolve.
The sound grew and moved closer.
Until she saw it. Orange light reflecting off the misted
walls. A dull glow. Jinji shrank away, blinded by the brightness. Her eyes
stung, but remained dry. Resolute.
Ghostly figures stepped into view, hidden behind the light
that blocked her sight. Keys jingled. Voices grumbled, murmuring softly to each
other.
An illusion, Jinji
thought as her terror mounted. She could weave one, pretend the cell was empty,
that she had escaped.
The torch light grew stronger.
It was now or never. In a minute, the light would reach her
toes, would travel up her dirty legs, would reveal her.
Her mind itched to keep pretending for as long as it took,
to turn her illusions into real life and to live down here wrapped inside of them
forever—in a place where her family lived and Rhen was beside her. A magical
place.
A false place.
It will be all right,
the voice promised. Jinji wanted to shut it out, to throw her head against the
wall and push the phantom from her mind, but she didn't. For the first time,
not being completely alone was comforting.
The halo entered her cell, revealing black speckled feet and
copper calves that looked pale for the first time.
It was too late.
The men stopped outside her bars. The key was inserted, the
lock twisted, and the door opened.
Jinji clenched her teeth.
One man stepped forward into the glow of the fire, revealing
his ruby garbed body. A member of the king's guard. Jinji recognized the
uniform—she had pretended to wear it not too long ago.
Her eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, holding a small iron
key in his hand.
"I am going to unlock these chains, do you
understand?" he asked, voice soft, almost as though trying to calm her
anxiety. But his face was still masked in shadow, hiding the truth in his eyes.
Jinji nodded. The skin around her ankles and wrists was
exposed, scratched, and it burned. Now in the light, she could make out the red
streaks of caked-over blood and other spots that glistened, fresh and stinging.
Removing the weights would be a small relief.
Slowly, he stepped closer, trying not to alarm her. The
rings unclasped, dropping to the floor with a resounding clang. One. Two.
Three. Four. Echoes that Jinji hoped might lift the spirits of those around
her.
"Can you stand?" he asked and offered a hand.
Jinji ignored it, using muscles she had not accessed in a
while. Her thighs yelled at her, protesting, begging her to remain seated. But
she rose, gritting her teeth the entire way up. Creaky bones cracked as she
stretched, bringing life back into her battered body.
One step at a time, Jinji moved slowly across the cell. The
closer she got to the exit, the more she wondered if it were all a trick. Were
they about to slam the door in her face, laughing, like a sick game?
But she passed through the threshold, between the iron bars,
and into the dark hall. Her feet didn't want to stop—they wanted to race into
the abyss and keep going until she reached the sun. Jinji did not let them.
Instead, she planted her toes and turned to face the captor behind her, his
features now revealed in the light.
Shock—that was the word that came to mind. But Jinji
couldn’t place it. Was he shocked at her silence? Did he wish for her to plead
her innocence, to promise there had been some mistake? She would not give him
the satisfaction.
No. She met his
eyes, resistant, and he was the one who looked away.
The other man was not so gentle.
"Come on," he said—to his companion, to her, to
them both.
Grabbing her arm roughly, clenching his fingers around her
frail frame, he pulled her forward. Jinji stumbled, her body not prepared to
move so fast, but held on.
Swiftly, they passed through the corridors. Jinji tripped,
floundering at this rapid pace she had grown unaccustomed to, stubbing her toes
on the uneven path. Her feet were cold against the stone, but her body was hot
with exertion. Even if she walked toward death, it felt good to walk. To move.
The men didn't say anything else. Gave no hints as to their
destination. But it seemed as though they traveled upward. Away. Out.
They stopped at a door.
As it swung open, Jinji gasped. Her fragile body finally
faltered and she fell, eyes burning as she clutched them, covered them.
It was too bright. Too white after so long in the dark.
She blinked rapidly, bringing moisture to her eyes, trying
to bring her vision back. The shadow of her hands provided some relief, blocked
out most of the glow until it was just her skin, streaked with orange where the
sun tried to break through.
Gently, she shifted her fingers, letting the cracks widen.
Gradually, her eyes adjusted despite the burn.
The castle of Rayfort.
Jinji recognized the white stones reflecting the sun, the
red tapestry hanging on the wall painted with the stallion Rhen wore proudly on
his clothes. She was still in Rayfort, still at his home.
Gaze shifting further, Jinji met wide-eyed stares. Three
women stood a few feet away, talking with two men. Their clothes were
gold-lined and rich in color, spotted with little pearls. The conversation,
whatever it was, had stopped. Now they stood aghast, unable to speak at the
sight of her cradling her head, stuck on the ground.
Jinji let her hands fall into her lap. Her vision followed.
And it was her turn for shock. The scars around her wrists looked more painful
in the daylight, more gruesome. Her fingers were black with dirt. Her arms were
covered by it. Her skin, once a beautiful tan, was now ghostly. The white shirt
looked gray. Her pants were ripped, shredded by her knees.
Suddenly cold, Jinji hugged herself, covered herself. Shame
tugged at her heart. How could she have been dragged so low? Once the future
leader of her people, now a beggar.
Jinji stood and lifted her head, trying to cover the
embarrassment with stubborn pride. Straightening her spine, she dropped her
hands and met the eyes of the guards. It was time to move on, and they
understood, walking forward and trusting her to continue.
A few turns later, a few shocked looks later, and they had
arrived at another door. The more forceful guard pushed her inside and shut it.
Panic immediately clenched her heart and Jinji turned,
slamming the door with her fist, still not making a sound.
She fell forward, hugging the wood, afraid what she might
turn to find. Silence welcomed her. No sounds, not even breathing, filtered
into her ears.
Would they really bring her here to watch her scream? Jinji
reasoned with herself. It made no sense to take her through the castle unless a
different fate waited for her. The fate only a friend could provide, one very
specific friend, the only one she had left.
Hesitant, Jinji turned, hoping she might find a dream come
to life.
But the room was empty.
There were no people, only things. Fluffy chairs she would
not stain with her soot. Tables holding games she did not know how to play.
Shelves displaying books she could not read. Everything was luxurious.
Everything was foreign.
A fire blazed to one side, and a window sat at the other.
Though she was cold, Jinji yearned for the sight of the outside world and made
her way to the glass, padding carefully across the rug.
A silk cushion sat below the pane, lined with carefully
arranged pillows, but she did not rest her weary muscles. Instead, Jinji stood,
strengthened by the scene before her.
Trees.
Far off in the distance, past the castle wall, beyond the
sea of rooftops, was a strip of evergreen. Minute maybe but everything to her.
The world. A sight she wasn't sure she would ever see again. A sliver of home
she could hold close.
A smile spread her lips, and Jinji's hand rose to rest
gently against the window, trying to touch the leaves she could almost hear
swaying in the breeze. Her vision cut everything else out, letting her forget
Rayfort and to feel free for a moment. Jinji's forehead followed her hand,
meeting the cool touch of the glass, and feeling secure, she let her mind
wander.
It had to be Rhen. How she wished it were Rhen. But she had
to think clearly.
The queen had been possessed by the shadow. It could be her,
demanding justice against Jinji or perchance needing to question her.
It could be one of his brothers, feeling obligated to tell
Jinji the bad news of Rhen's death since she was his friend.
It could be a cruel trick, to show her a glimpse of the
world before stripping it away.
Or it could be Rhen.
Her insides skipped a beat, fluttering around her stomach—a
wish that would not be denied.
Rhen.
At the thought, something behind her clicked. Jinji held her
breath and turned around slowly, searching for the source. To her side, a
different entrance from where she came in, a knob was twisting. She paused,
unsure if this was real or fake, an act of her mind playing tricks or the
impossible manifestation of dreams coming true.
The entry swung open, and there he stood. Commanding. Taking
up the entire frame of the doorway, hair just as bright as Jinji remembered,
eyes just as sparkling.
All breath left her body and she stood speechless, still not
sure if she was awake.
Rhen looked at her with an expression Jinji couldn't read.
Confusion. Horror. Sympathy. Longing. All of them or none of them, she couldn’t
decide.
Jinji watched, waiting for him to disappear, to wink out of
existence just like her illusions. But he seemed so solid.
Seconds ticked by but the room felt frozen in time.
Why was he just standing there? Jinji silently commanded he
step forward, but Rhen didn’t move. Stubborn.
He must be real,
she thought and bit her lower lip, almost afraid to find out the answer. But
Jinji had waited a long time in the dark, and she would wait no longer.
Stepping cautiously forward, she approached Rhen. He watched
on, impassive but not moving away. She stopped close enough to feel the heat
radiating from his body, but far enough away to keep herself composed.
There were so many things to say, but her lips would not
open. So many words that would not come.
Jinji wanted to collapse against him, to fall into his arms
and let them catch her, protect her, convince her that it was all real. But she
wouldn't, no matter how much her body protested against her. If this Rhen were
real, he did not trust her. He did not view her as a woman to comfort. He did
not ache for her in the way she ached for him.
To Rhen, she was a liar. A stranger. Without Jin, he didn’t
know who she was. In time, she might change that. But now was not that time.
Still, she needed to touch him, to feel his strength, his
solidity.
So instead, Jinji simply reached her hand up, cupping his
warm cheek—peachy against her dirty fingernails. To her surprise, his eyes
softened and his hand followed, holding hers tightly against his freckles.
"You're alive?" she asked, her emotions hanging by
a thread. There was one thing her illusions could not do, one thing only a real
person could create—noise.
Rhen smirked, left side of his lip raising slightly, and
responded, "Barely."
Joy flooded Jinji's body, filling her up, and spilling over
into tears that she could not contain. Just as she thought her legs could hold
her no longer, that it was too much and she would fall against him just to feel
his embrace, it was Rhen who faltered. Clutching his stomach, he slumped,
stumbling as one leg gave out beneath him.
Against all of her
predictions, Jinji was the one who caught him.
###
The Spirit Heir goes on-sale October 30th and is available to preorder now!
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