King Lucius corrected the duke with a curt address. “You forget yourself, Cassius, the Crown already has a mage in its ranks.”
“Prince Darren?” The man scoffed. “I’ve heard the tales your traders spin in Pythus. Forgive me if I am a bit skeptical of a prince as prestigious as they claim.”
The king’s reply was instantaneous. “Darren will be a part of the Candidacy. I trust your brother will be sending his emissaries the same as the last?”
“He will. And I will be a part, regardless of however this plays out.”
King Lucius’s hand tightened on his throne. I could see him struggling to maintain composure.
Blayne took over for his father, trying to flatter the duke instead. “I recall you won quite a bit on a wager for Marius during your youth.”
“Yes.” Cassius didn’t bother to hide his contempt. “What can I say? A Pythian never loses.” His eyes stayed glued to the king’s. “We take our bets very seriously.”
“As do I.” Lucius’s words were ice. “And there is no surer bet than my son.”
It didn’t take much to recognize they were no longer talking about Darren or the Candidacy. The air was drowning in tension and neither the king nor the duke looked away. I wondered who would win: the brother of one of the most scrupulous kings in history, or our own?
The refreshments arrived just in time. Two sets of servants jostled around our circle, thrusting drinks into hands before the two leaders could pull out the swords and duel on the spot. Blayne took over the conversation, and slowly the tension began to ease into more pleasurable territory.
Sensing an opportunity to escape, Darren took my hand just as his father called his name.
The prince groaned. “I’m sorry, Ryiah.”
Don’t leave me!
My teeth grated. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” As long as the courtiers don’t try to engage me in conversation about their estates. I forced an encouraging smile on my lips as we parted ways.
The few times I had been forced to partake with the court I’d been engaged in an endless barrage of conversation. It wasn’t because I was charming, or debonair, or full of charming remarks.
It was because they all deemed me a gullible pawn in their play for power. One that I wanted nothing to do with. Every smile and eloquent aside held a secret, and I wasn’t fool enough to pretend I could see through to the true intentions behind. Darren had warned me many would seek out friendships to secure royal favors, and I had yet to discern the ones I could trust.
I had never made a promise to engage in frivolities—if the ambassador was occupied then I had fulfilled my duties, and after the many cautions not to “humiliate” the Crown I told myself the best tactic really was evasion. I could not embarrass myself if I had no one watching to witness my courtly blunders.
Several minutes later I had made it to the palace kitchens, dress and all, and I was cackling away, sitting on the stool next to Benny as he finished the final touches to that evening’s dessert, berating his least favorite members of court. The air smelled of candied ginger and mace. Mixed with the steady heat coming from the ovens I could almost pretend it was summer, and I was out in the field practicing my lunges with Ella instead of a cold, marble palace.
Benny finished icing his newest creation and looked up from his task. “How are the negotiations faring?”
“I wouldn’t know.” I snatched a tart that had not quite finished cooling and yelped, dropping it back to the rack. Too early. “The Pythians don’t seem to like us much.”
“The servants they brought claim their princess has already received an offer of marriage from Prince Klaus.”
The Caltothians? “King Horrace’s only son?”
“Precisely.” The cook crooked a finger at me. “Two different heirs offering the shrewd Pythians their hand. Make no mistake, the prince that the ambassador chooses will decide the war.”
My hunger vanished and the contents of my stomach plummeted. There it was. A reminder how important these negotiations really were.
I excused myself. What was I doing? I couldn’t keep avoiding the festivities, not with so much at stake.
I had barely made it back to the ball when Blayne grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me out to the balcony. Darren was nowhere to be found.
It was hard to see with the absence of the sun, and the air frigid with winter chill. “Where were you?” he hissed. White clouds of air escaped his breath. “My father noticed your absence.”
The lie slid from my tongue like butter. “I got lost. The palace is so large, and there are so many halls.”
“You were shirking your duty.” His nails dug into my skin, and they hurt. “You accepted your responsibilities the moment you and my brother decided to play me for a fool.”
“I’m sorry.” I wasn’t, but I wanted Blayne gone as quickly as possible. My pulse was thundering in my ears. I was fighting every instinct not to yank my arm right out of his grasp. Or worse. The prince’s expression was reminding me all too well of that moment in the hall my first year of the apprenticeship, the last time I had been at the receiving end of his threats.
What do I do if he strikes me? Defend myself and risk the king’s wrath? Or take the hit against every instinct I have? I’d never felt more helpless—a black mage of Combat—and yet I was no more than a helpless little girl in the presence of the Crown.
My free hand formed a fist.
Blayne’s gaze missed nothing. He took a step back, releasing my arm with a sneer. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ryiah.” His tone was chaffing. “We are friends, or have you already forgotten?”
I said nothing. It was the safest reply I had.
“You have five minutes to gather your wits, and then I expect you to converse with the rest of them.” His voice rang out as he left the terrace. “Do not give the Pythians a reason to question the hospitality of Jerar. A reclusive princess does nothing for our court.”
I waited until the crown prince had faded completely from view, vanishing in the crowded floor of jewel-toned dress, and then walked to the edge of the balcony’s rail and let out a shaky breath, clutching the cool surface against the frantic beating of my chest.
“That one truly is as pleasant as he first appeared.”
I choked, spinning around in alarm. Standing in a darkened corner was the Pythian ambassador. “Duke Cassius!”
“I would have made myself known sooner,” he noted, “but I never had the chance.”
He had witnessed that entire conversation between Blayne and me. Panic clawed at my throat and I tried to remember what we had said. Luckily nothing to indict Jerar—but it hadn’t been in our favor, either.
“If you don’t mind, I would like to stay.” The man didn’t bother to wait for an answer. “The entire court has been a bustle of fools…I would like to converse with the one person who seems so eager to avoid it.”
Earlier I had seen the spark of interest when he heard I was lowborn. Now he was studying me with that same glint in his eye, and it did nothing to assuage my nerves.
I knew I needed to stay. I didn’t want to, but this was the moment the king’s scholars had been preparing me for, the reason the king had summoned my presence in court for the Pythians’ arrival in the first place. Friendly discourse that would earn their favor. An example of posterity with a prince of Jerar. Especially the latter.
“Nothing would delight me more,” I squeaked. Was that really my voice? I swallowed the lump in my throat and spoke in what I hoped was a much more relaxed tenor. “I would be happy to converse. How fare the Pythian—”
He cut me off. “You fear the prince they intend for my niece.”
I should have left.
“You are unhappy and uncomfortable amidst the grandeur of your king’s palace,” the duke continued. “True, a bit of that could be because of your lowborn upbringing, but there is more to it than that. You do not like a life at court. So why are you here?”
I didn’t ba
t an eye. “Darren.”
“He is quite handsome.” His russet eyes were glued to mine. “You’ve found yourself a happily ever after in a time when there is none.”
“Y-your niece could be very happy with Blayne,” I stammered.
“Now you can’t possibly believe that to be true. Not when you were cowering in his presence just moments before.”
The man laughed throatily. “Your Blayne is pretty, but cruel. The Caltothian prince is but a boy and spends his time picking his nose.” His lips curled up in disgust. “I seek your audience because you didn’t grow up in court, my dear. You haven’t learned how to lie. I can read every emotion on your face; I could tell how upset you were by the prince moments before, and I can see how nervous you are now. And that makes yours the most valuable opinion in this room.”
He took a step closer, the heels of his boots a rattle. “Now tell me why I should pick King Lucius’s son for my niece.”
“I—I…”
I never should have gone off on my own. The king gave me very specific orders not to embarrass the Crown; his threats had stressed the stakes of earning the Pythians’ favor. And now here the duke was, asking the one person whose face was, apparently, an open book. Because I was lowborn.
I struggled for a reply that would appear honest without putting Blayne in a negative light.
“The thing is … I don’t really know him.”
His lips twitched at the lie.
“Well enough,” I blurted. “I don’t know him well enough. I-I didn’t like Darren either, when we first met. I hated him.” Nice, Ryiah, make him hate the whole family. “B-but that was before I got to know Darren.” No point in lying since he could read the truth. “I am still getting to know Blayne…”
I started to get nervous:
“I-I can’t promise she would be h-happy… But if you choose Jerar you could save hundreds—thousands.” I swallowed. “If you choose Jerar there will never be a war. Caltoth would never dare to attack us with your brother’s support—”
“You disappoint me, Ryiah. Desperation and fear will never win you an ally.” The duke gave me a pitying smile. “Thanks for your time.”
Then he adjusted his cloak and left me standing there, clinging to the rail.
We were going to lose the war, I realized. The Pythians had already picked a side.
It wasn’t ours.
Chapter Eight
Negotiations were fruitless. Three days into the ambassador’s visit and it was clear the Pythians were not going to be swayed. There was nothing King Lucius’s advisors could offer that would match the Caltothian’s terms. And from the way the meetings had gone thus far, King Horrace had promised a lot.
I wasn’t present for said meetings, of course, but the worry lines creasing the non-heir’s forehead each dinner were enough. I had to watch Darren’s haggard face each time he stepped out of the Crown Chambers looking worse than before. Over dinner he would practice strained conversation with the Pythians while I picked at my food and pretended things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed. Even Blayne stopped trying to carry the pretense of self-assurance by that third night.
Duke Cassius was the only one enjoying himself, and he toasted his kinsmen every chance he got. Between his raucous laughter and that smug smile, it wasn’t hard to see he was making a mockery of our court. Like me, he had four days left to his visit—but his was a mere formality.
“A shame…” The duke started to say, and then stopped himself. He didn’t need to finish. The rest of his sentence was implied. A shame your kingdom will fall. A shame King Horrace offers King Joren the world. A shame you can’t offer the same.
King Lucius was faring the worst. While Darren and Blayne continued to plaster fake smiles and flourishing compliments, their father was silent to a fault. The king spent entire evenings staring daggers at the duke, and from the way he tore into his meat and let the bloody venison drip down his chin, I suspected he envisioned it as the Pythian’s flesh instead.
I lost all appetite after that.
The remainder of my time was spent in the practice courts—etiquette postponed in light of the Pythians’ arrival. There were no more lessons on courtly decorum; the scholars were too busy poring over records in the treasury, searching for a way to appease the Pythians’ demands.
I had just finished washing up from a particularly grueling session with some of the regiment knights when I heard Darren enter his chamber next door. From the way wood slammed against stone it was easy to assert the Crown had come no further in negotiations.
And then it slammed again. Two angry voices started on the other side.
Pressing a finger to my lips so Sofia and Gemma didn’t give our presence away, I tiptoed across to the wall and cupped my hand against the surface.
I knew it was wrong to listen in, but Darren had refused to tell me anything since the negotiations began, and I was desperate for news. He was so busy trying to pretend things weren’t as bad as they were, and if he wasn’t willing to reveal the truth to me just yet, then I would find out another way.
“Never should have sent you off to that school!”
“Blayne—”
“You were supposed to be here, Darren. With me. Not her. Me.”
“I’m here now.” There was a bit of silence, then much quieter: “Was he really that bad after I left?”
“What do you think?”
“Blayne, I’m—”
“It’s a bit late for an apology.”
A reticent sigh. “We still have three days. I’ll figure out a way, there must be something we haven’t thought of—”
“We offered them everything. Everything! Didn’t you hear the advisors? The only thing we haven’t proposed is the country itself.” A harsh laugh. “Would you prefer Jerar go under Pythian rule, dear brother? We can’t match the wealth of Caltoth, the only thing left is a crown.”
Something hit the wall with a shatter. “They are supposed to honor the Great Compromise. Why won’t they honor it?”
Darren’s voice: “Caltoth has been attacking our border for years! They can’t claim the incident in Ferren’s Keep a territory dispute—”
“King Joren will never choose honor when faced with his own country’s gain.” Blayne’s tone was full of contempt. “Why should one carry out a century’s old pledge when he can further his own?”
“It isn’t right. We have supported the Pythians for years—”
“Loyalty is never built upon honor, brother. It is built upon blood.”
I stepped away from the wall and asked Gemma to tell the king I was feeling a bit faint. I could not join them for dinner. It had been a mistake to listen in on Darren and his brother. The princes hadn’t said anything I hadn’t already assumed, but somehow hearing the words spoken aloud made it worse.
I could not sit across from that merciless duke and force a smile to my lips. Not tonight.
I had Sofia help me back out of my dress and then pulled on a fresh pair of breeches, yanking my long-sleeved wool tunic up over my head.
“My lady? You’re training, again?” My lady-in-waiting blinked at me in confusion. “Aren’t you exhausted?”
“I am.” I grabbed my scabbard and swung open the door. “If Darren asks, tell him I am outside the soldiers barracks. But tell him I want to be alone.”
****
Paige found me an hour later drilling myself in the soldier’s arena to the east of the palace wall. I was fighting the flurry of cold with my blade, cutting a swathe through falling snow and pretending it was the Pythians instead. My breath came out staggered and hot, but I kept swinging and swinging until she finally dragged me away.
My guard pried the blade right out of my hands and tossed it to the frozen ground, handing me her flask. I took a long swig while she waited. And then another. I drank the entire container without even emitting a gasp as the searing contents tore a hole through my chest. Blood started to move and my fingers burned as they tingled, the warmt
h slowly working itself back to my limbs.
Paige studied my hands. “You should have worn gloves, my lady.”
“Did Darren send you?”
“He did.”
“Do you know what it is like to feel powerless?”
She didn’t bother to reply.
“I’m powerless. They summoned me here to help win the Pythians’ favor. Me. A lowborn.” I hacked back a cough. “Lowborns can’t lie. Did you know that?”
“I’m a lowborn,” the knight scoffed. “I can lie.”
“Well I can’t. I mean…I can lie. But not well. Duke Cassius told me he could read the truth all over my face. I’m a truth-teller.” I wobbled and then acquiesced as Paige led me back to lean against the barracks’ fence. “And I couldn’t lie and tell him to pick Blayne. He wanted me to give him a reason and I couldn’t. He-he hurt Ella. And—and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.”
“You don’t trust the crown prince. So why are you trying to defend him?” Paige gave me a hard look. “Clearly the Pythian duke knows you are lying. You should try a different angle.”
“Like pleading for our country? Begging for our people?” I choked back a laugh. “He doesn’t care. They are toying with us, Paige.”
She chewed her lip. I suspected she and the rest of the palace staff had already heard the rumors.
“They play to win.”
“Perhaps you need to show them what they’ll lose.”
“How is that any different? They lose what cannot be won.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Caltoth can give them more than Jerar ever could.” I let her lead me back toward the palace, anger fading to cold. I was shivering and hot. I needed another searing bath, and then the chill of my bed. I needed everything and I needed nothing. I felt despair seeping its way back into the pit of my stomach.
“Thank you, Paige,” I mumbled.
She clapped my back as she handed me off to Sofia and Gemma.
There was nothing else to be said.
****
The final evening of the Pythians and my visit was spent in a somber silence.
Our attempt at negotiation had failed. Darren and Blayne no longer feigned pleasantries as the night dragged on. The king didn’t bother to eat the meal in front of him—his white beard was stained coppery red along the rim, and with every wine that was brought his eyes grew the icy blue of a storm. I kept waiting for the royal family to break, but the king and his two sons were well trained in the art of restraint.
The Black Mage: Candidate Page 11