* * *
The day we returned to the capital, all chaos broke loose. To say the king was unreceptive to Duke Cassius’s negotiations was an understatement.
Priscilla, true to her word—and Darren’s old promise—was on her way to the Crown’s Army camp. I couldn’t help but envy her freedom. She could blissfully go about her service while I was trapped searching for a solution to the Pythian ambassador’s riddle. Somehow, the highborn had ended up with the fate I wanted, and the lowborn had ended up in a web of courtly politics and deceit. If only she knew, I suspected she’d laugh in my face.
Now, instead of searching the palace for proof, I was searching for answers. It was easier to avoid suspicion. I wasn’t snooping around in places I wasn’t supposed to be, but it might as well have been the same. I had no mind for large-scale maneuvers.
Thanks to Cassius’s demands, all waking hours were spent in negotiations, not strategy, so I had little hope of coming across an answer in the war chambers. Asking for a solution straight out, how does one hold off the Crown’s Army, would draw too many questions. And the last thing I needed was for Mira to call me a rebel. Questions like that were hard to explain, no matter how creative the answer.
One of the things I could do, however, was take a trip to the city blacksmith with a long letter tucked into the extra padding of my boot.
Paige escorted me in the streets, of course, but she’d had enough dealings with Saba to wander the front of the shop, admiring the newest armor and weapons-in-progress, rather than study the wordless communication between her charge and the rebels’ capital spy.
I knew Nyx wouldn’t be pleased with the newest developments, but it was a far better outcome than Cassius’s flat-out refusal. The commander would keep King Horrace and the rebels apprised. We had hope, and she, more than anyone else, would be the most likely candidate to find a solution the ambassador would accept. Knights were strategists, and Nyx was elite. If she couldn’t find an answer… I didn’t want to think of the outcome.
Three weeks later, I received an early summons from the blacksmith: my new blade was ready. An envoy had ridden tirelessly in light of the commander’s response.
I emptied the sheath in the solitude of my own chamber. Nyx had given me five different solutions, each more complex than the last.
Warmth surged through my lungs. This was it. After one month of wracking my brain, scanning countless scrolls on war and walking the palace in a daze, Nyx had delivered something I could use. We would have the Pythians’ vote.
“This is certainly something,” the ambassador said later that night, “but it’s not enough.”
The commander of the second-largest regiment in Jerar had failed to produce an acceptable response.
“You still have a month,” he added. “That’s better than none.”
I took another trip to the blacksmith, and then entered the indoor training court alone. My entire vision was red.
Spraaaaat.
My third casting hit the barrier and a horrible screech followed, mimicking nails against glass, rough and unnatural. The entire thing began to quiver.
Streaks of white splintered across the barrier like a web.
It wasn’t enough.
I was tired of holding back.
I called on my magic again and again.
For a moment, I was a goddess, bursting with power, shattering the world around me with the flick of a hand. It felt good, I realized, to be free of those mortal troubles.
My palm itched and I ran the dagger along the length of it, watching as crimson drops pooled beneath my boots.
I didn’t need anything. I didn’t want for anything. I was overflowing with raw magic. It was spilling from me like a fountain; a hungry inferno was building inside my chest.
My seventh casting broke the glass. Shards of silver sung across the air.
My globe’s casting kept me safe, but I still heard the small tinkle as thousands of tiny daggers hit the surface only to fall harmlessly away.
I waited until the last of the slivers had fallen, and then I released my shield, watching as violet dissipated to black.
I was tired of being a pawn.
Behind me, the room suddenly burned orange. Someone had lit a sconce.
“Care if I join you?”
Darren’s boots crushed the glass as he left the stands to take a place on my right. His eyes were bloodshot like my own, his entire face drawn with lines of fatigue and his fists so strained they were white.
The Black Mage was dressed in formal attire hardly suitable for combat; I was wearing a dress.
The two of us took our places across from one another, the masters’ drills echoing like a relentless tide in the dark. Today wasn’t the time for a duel; today was time for something more.
I gave a small flick of my wrist and shadows grew, the flames behind us dimming to a small, crystalline blue. Then it was just our outline in the dark.
I drew my breath; Darren exhaled softly across the way.
And the drill began. A sharp whistle sounded as metal found its way to our hands, bringing a biting sting as blood dripped down below.
A casting hovered just beyond each of us, an invisible opponent that knew our instinct like no one else ever could.
A curved sickle sword for me; two hand axes for the prince.
That first winter solstice at the Academy, that day Darren had trained me as my own opponent, it was back with a vengeance. We were battling rage and fighting enemies we couldn’t name. Pain casting against one’s self, it was the ultimate test.
Our cuts rang out like a storm.
Even in the haze, I identified the different attacks by the ring of each blade. Hard and fast, pull and swipe, hook and hack. Recover. Offense. The exchange was as deadly as they came.
I twisted and turned, a complicated pattern of steps.
Then I cut.
Again. And again.
We continued this way for a long time. Two mages battling demons in silence, just the loud clang of metal on metal and the sharp intake of breath whenever we missed.
When I shifted, our eyes met across the way.
Darren’s chest heaved with the effort to fight. The tension in his shoulders rippled across each arm as he swiped and parried two enemy axes hovering just beyond. He jumped and spun, but no matter how he danced, his casting continued to lead an impenetrable assault. I could see it in the tension of his muscles, the way he spun and ducked, the sweat lingering on his chest.
The prince finally spoke. “The ambassador refused our newest offer.” It wasn’t hard to understand his reason for the drill.
Suddenly I was back to hours before, watching as the duke laughed in my face. “It’s not good enough,” Cassius had said. Why, after everything, was nothing I did ever enough?
I can’t save the kingdom from ruin. My blade parried the second phantom sword; the impact rattled my bones.
I couldn’t save my own brother. The vibration was so hard I could taste hot, coppery blood.
And finally, as I ducked to the side, a winning slash of my own. All I have to offer are lies to the one I love.
My casting ceased and the weapons dissipated into thin air. I stood there, dizzy and furious, my head spinning from the loss of blood.
A moment later, the Black Mage joined me. Darren was breathing so hard that I could see the hematite stone rising and falling with his chest.
“You’ve gotten better.”
But not good enough. I stood there, lips pressed firmly closed, refusing to speak. Too afraid of myself. Too afraid of this rage and what it could lead me to say.
“Here.” Darren tore off the sleeve of his jacket, using the coarse brocade to wrap the steady trickle of blood along my wrist and palm. He was so careful and meticulous. I watched his pulse beating out the hollow of his throat.
And then, when he was done, standing there with his eyes locked on my own, I stopped caring about everyone but myself. I reached out and snatched the
prince’s wrist, the words tumbling from my mouth. “We should run away.”
Darren’s hand froze midair.
“You and me.” The words were unbidden, and they spoke to the coward I was. “We could leave this whole place behind.”
“Ryiah…” Darren swallowed hard. “Do you have any idea what you are asking?”
My nails dug into his arm. I knew I was hurting him, but I was too afraid to let go. “You told me you never wanted this life. This is your chance. You can be someone else. We can find a ship and let the others sort everything out.”
“I will not leave my brother to fight this war alone.” His reprimand was harsh. “We are war mages, Ryiah. We have a duty to Jerar.”
“What about a duty to us?” Tears were slipping down my face, and I didn’t even care. “Don’t you want to grow old together? To start a family? What will happen if—”
“Ryiah.” Darren drew a sharp intake of breath. “I know you lost your brother and you are afraid of losing others, but running away won’t solve anything. We have to stay and fight.”
“But—”
“The ambassador will come around. And even if he doesn’t, I promise you, I won’t let us lose.” The prince’s tone drew soft and his bloody fingers raised my chin so that his eyes met my own. “Love, I’m not leaving you.”
Yes, you will. I swallowed my choking sob, reality breaking through to my plea. Hysteria and sheer desperation had taken over my control.
Gods, the fairy tales never talked about heroes who chose wrong. I was so lost in self-pity and greed, I had been willing to run away with the prince, even if it meant the villain won. Even if I forsook everyone else.
Darren would never turn on his own. Yet, here I was, ready to give up on the rebels, my family and friends, all because the going got hard, all because I wanted it to be us in the end.
Darren didn’t deserve the likes of me. The others didn’t deserve to rest their fate on the shoulders of a girl so weak.
When I fell asleep that night, it was with the realization that I hated myself.
* * *
The next morning, I awoke to find the prince sitting on our bed, dressed for a day outdoors instead of another endless battle in the Crown chamber with Duke Cassius and the king.
Darren gave me a half smile as I pushed off against the mattress, staring at him in wide-eyed confusion.
“I have a surprise for you.”
A part of me rebelled; I didn’t deserve anything after the words I had spoken the day before. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to be in the same room with a coward like me.
Darren noted the hesitation on my face. “The two of us are going to be driven mad by these negotiations. Yesterday made it clear we both need to get away from this place. I can’t promise you forever.” His smile faltered and a flare of regret shone in his eyes. “But for the day, it’s a start.”
I took a hitching breath and shook my head. I didn’t want a day alone with the prince; I needed to distance myself in any way that I could. I needed to simmer in my own shame and spend the day in the library, chasing down more manuscripts on war and preparing for Cassius’s refusal.
“You don’t have a choice.” Darren tugged me to my feet. “The staff are under orders to keep you out. Mira was especially delighted to hear it.”
My lip twitched. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” Darren was already walking toward the chamber door. “And wear that dress, the yellow one.”
“From the wedding?”
“Ten minutes, love.” Darren turned, a wicked glint to his eyes. “Then we leave, in whatever state of undress that might be.”
Later, we were tearing through the forest, gnarled branches making a mess of my skirts.
“Really?” I felt Darren’s choke of laughter against my back; it wasn’t unpleasant. “You could have told me to wear something else.”
“I’m a prince.” Darren hopped from the saddle, pulling me down and smirking at my disarray. The dress had ripped almost scandalously high at the waist and my hair had broken free of its tie, leaving scarlet locks windblown and compiled in an endless horror of knots. It would take my ladies-in-waiting at least three hours to untangle the worst. “I get what I want.”
“And that is…?”
“You.” Darren snatched my hand and began to tug me along the trail. Our horses were tethered next to a stream, left to their own devices while we continued the rest of our trek on foot. We were somewhere southeast of the capital, three hours on a small, untraveled road I had never heard of in my entire time at court.
“What is this place?”
“So many questions.” The teasing lilt of his voice was unmistakable. “It’s a wonder I didn’t have you bound and gagged the whole ride here.”
“You know, you could just tell me.” I couldn’t keep from smiling. I tried not to, but I was failing. “Darren!” I shrieked his name as he dragged me through some overhanging brush, more branches tearing at my dress. “Darren, stop!”
“We are almost there.”
“I should light you on fire,” I grumbled.
“You tried.” He was trying hard not to laugh. “Many, many times, love.”
The two of us cut through a dense cluster of foliage and came to a clearing.
My heart caught in my throat.
In front of us was a small meadow, hardly enough to constitute a field. It was little more than a hill of green, perhaps twenty yards across. The stream we had been following pooled near its base, and just above, a small waterfall rushed through a pair of twin boulders.
Sunlight rained down through a break in the trees, thin shards of gold between empty branches and pine.
It looked like a scene from a storybook with the soft gray clouds and a misting of amber, the gentle murmur of water cascading down rock, and the soft chirp of birds setting out to build spring nests.
My pulse was hammering against my ribs; I had to swallow before I could breathe.
Darren cleared his throat, one hand outstretched. Dark bangs fell across his eyes as he grinned. “May I have this dance, love?”
It was the moment from our apprenticeship all over again. I was the fool that wanted to say yes, and he was the boy I couldn’t refuse.
His fingers brushed mine, and I forgot to say no.
You fool. You are going to ruin everything.
I let the prince lead me to the center of the clearing, silk rustling against the dewy grass.
Darren took his place across from me, one hand falling to my waist as the other held my hand.
I set my frozen palm against his shoulder, and he took a step forward.
I wasn’t sure how long the two of us moved. It started off slow. I was all too aware of the hammering of my heart and the way his eyes locked on mine. I heard the soft splatter of mud as Darren quietly led us across the marsh, the quiet buzz of insects greeting the sky. It wasn’t supposed to be romantic. I wasn’t supposed to feel like my heart was shattering from just one dance.
“What is this place?” I rasped.
“Somewhere away from everything else.”
I swallowed and let the prince turn me, trying not to feel. These emotions were a current dragging me away, a tide I couldn’t break.
For a moment, I couldn’t move.
“Ryiah…”
Darren’s thumb brushed my wrist. I felt myself starting to break. It scared me how easy it would be to fall under his spell.
“Love”—the words were so gentle—“please look at me.”
“I can’t.” My voice broke, and I knew Darren could see the tears staining my cheeks. There was no way he could miss the shaking in my bones.
He tilted my chin. “Why not?”
“Because…” I couldn’t remember the reason, not when Darren was looking at me like that, not when I was looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered in this world.
Darren’s lips brushed my hair. “It’s just a dance, love.”
; It wasn’t and he knew it. Darren was trying to save the broken girl in his arms. He was trying to save me, and I was fighting him with every last gasp of air.
“I want to dance with my wife.” His words were so quiet. I could feel myself slipping. Down. Down. Down. “Is that so much to ask?”
Was it? Was it really? Before he cursed my name and branded me a traitor? The girl that betrayed a prince?
“It is.”
My confession cut like a knife. Darren jerked away, hurt flaring in his eyes. “You are destroying us.” His hands fisted at his sides. “And I don’t even understand why.”
That pain was my undoing. It broke the control I fought so hard to keep.
I didn’t want to hurt the boy. I loved him more than life itself.
I grabbed Darren’s shoulders and slammed my mouth to his, every bit of emotion snapping under that bridge.
I needed him, and I was tired of pretending I didn’t.
Darren’s chest rose and fell rapidly against my own. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then his hands slid up my back, my throat, framing my jaw, capturing me and crushing me against his lips, drawing me in and stealing my soul.
I could have spent the rest of my life letting him kiss me like that, but I didn’t want soft and slow.
I didn’t care about the consequences. Not anymore.
I implored the prince to move, shoving him back, my tongue dancing across his, his mouth slanting in surrender against my own.
Darren let out a growl, and I gasped as he jerked me forward, choking on air.
He kissed me like he wanted to cherish me and break me in the same breath. His kiss was furious. Unapologetic. Punishing. It spoke of too many nights left alone. It spoke of everything he was holding back.
And then our roles reversed.
I pressed my mouth to his neck and he shuddered. It did things to my senses; my nails dug into his shoulders as I did it again.
I wanted to make him lose control.
Darren’s fingers were on my waist as his teeth grazed my neck.
Gods.
My head lolled back and I could hardly breathe. I had no idea one person could feel so much.
The two of us were stumbling across the meadow, tearing at bits of cloth, his hot hands branding my skin.
Last Stand: The Black Mage Book 4 Page 13