I longed for Ella. She would understand. She had survived my twin, and she knew the games of court. If there was anyone who would know what to do it was her. But of course she was gone, serving in a wonderful, appreciative regiment in Montfort with my brother instead.
We had sent letters back and forth while I was at the keep. The two of them were as happy as could be. Alex had been promoted twice in the infirmary he served, and Ella’s squad had frequent mock-duels in the same arena as the coming Candidacy. I was jealous.
I hadn’t told either of them about my fight with Darren. Or my troubles in Ferren. I didn’t want anyone to pity me. After hearing their happy tale, I just couldn’t tell them mine. It was a far cry from pleasant.
Wallowing in pity is going to get you nowhere. I would not let Darren’s cold demeanor stop me from enjoying the rest of the day. The bride and groom had a parade through the city for the commoners, but a feast was already being held in one of the ballrooms while the rest of the highborn court awaited the couple’s return. I squared my shoulders and strode into the hall, determined to steal some of Benny’s delicacies before the rest of the crowd finished them off. I wasn’t the only fan of his cooking. Perhaps I would sneak away to visit Benny later. Although, now that his charming wife was back, perhaps it would be better to avoid the kitchens.
Maybe Wolf, I decided. I was still wary around the kennel—and dogs in general— but in my last visit I had made it a point to stop by once a day with a bit of the cook’s scraps. I had even gotten myself to pet Wolf during that last morning. I had been hoping to surprise Darren the next time I visited, but now…
I pushed my frustration aside and stood there, stuffing myself. Eventually I was forced to stop—blasted corset. I was still hungry, but I couldn’t manage anymore unless I ripped the silly thing right out from under my dress. Somehow I didn’t think that would go over too well with the Crown.
All around me the highborn court flitted from one circle of acquaintances to the next, passing conversation until the heir and his bride returned from their progress. I stood idly by for the next hour wondering how much trouble I would be in if I attempted to escape before the festivities had truly begun. Darren had yet to make an appearance, and his father was busy reproaching one of the servants across the room. Maybe no one would notice.
“How fares my favorite new mage?”
I started from my thoughts to find Marius studying a platter of meats. The Black Mage grinned at me, white teeth flashing. “Or have I rendered you speechless once again, Ryiah?”
I quickly fumbled for a response. I was in a constant state of awe every time the two of us crossed paths. The towering mage bore the robe—and title— of my dreams. The gold lining was striking against the dark tint of his skin, and the silk seemed as fluid as water.
“I-I only just arrived.” Great, I already sound like a short-sentenced oaf. “Have you and the Council really been away all this time?” I would have thought they’d have participated in at least some of the Pythian negotiations.
“Both a blessing and a curse.” The mage gave me a conspiratorial wink and tilted his head in the direction of his comrades. “Those two quibble like a couple of hens, but then again that’s all the others do while we are here.”
I glanced in the direction he indicated. A tall blond-haired woman a little older than Marius had her stark red lips pressed permanently in a frown while an older man with grizzled, brown locks and soft, yellowed eyes conversed. Each bore their faction’s signature robe with the prestigious gold trim that distinguished them from the rest. Though their hoods were pulled back, I could still make out a small fortune of sparkling gemstones lining each rim.
It was strange to think that in one short month these three great mages would give up their legacy. A twenty-year reign anew.
The grin left Marius’s face. “We spent months in Cyri trying to put a face to the rebels in the south. All that time and no leads… Perhaps my successor will have better luck.”
“I should have requested a post in Ishir,” I muttered.
“We had half the Crown’s Army combing the desert to no avail.” The man heaved a sigh. “As much as I would have enjoyed your company, dear Ryiah, it would have done us no good. The rebels prefer sabotage to open attacks. Your experience in the Mahj salt mines was one of a kind.”
“There is no action in the north.” I bit back a wistful sigh. “I thought there would be, with the attack on Ferren last year, but the closest encounter I had was with a small camp of bandits.”
Marius gave me a crooked grin. “Here we are at the brink of war, and you are still itching for an opportunity to show off that fancy potential of yours.” He gave a throaty laugh. “Don’t you worry one bit, my dear, the Candidacy will push you to that brink.”
I started to reply, but a curious nobleman beat me to it. “Do you think the new treaty will stop the Caltothians, Mage Marius?”
The Black Mage grumbled under his breath so only I could hear him, “And the endless assault begins.” Louder he said, “My Lord Flavius, how pleasant to see you.” He paused to have the man repeat his question. “No, I don’t believe that nonsense for a minute. Yes. Exactly… The Caltothians haven’t spent three decades assaulting our border to give up so easily… Not yet… I should say… No, I—”
A cluster of others arrived to pepper the mage with questions. I inched away. Marius caught my eye and lifted a knowing hand in farewell. The man would be busy for the rest of the evening.
****
Just as I was gathering the courage to sneak past the exit the herald blew his horn to clear the room. I stood a little straighter as Prince Blayne and Princess Wrendolyn were announced to the crowd. The non-heir emerged shortly thereafter, and it was only after he shot me an expectant look that I realized I was supposed to follow. Well, how am I supposed to read your mind when you won’t talk to me? If Darren hadn’t been so busy flirting with the ladies of court he could have warned me about their entrance.
I hurried to the front, ignoring the snickers as I took my seat at the head table and praying my face wasn’t as red as it felt.
“I like your dress.”
I glanced over to the speaker and found myself face to face with Blayne’s new bride. Her eyes were bright.
“Thank you, Princess,” I mumbled.
She smiled. “You can call me ‘Wren,’ Lady Ryiah. Is it okay if I call you just ‘Ryiah?’ Because if it’s not I—”
Lucius stood, goblet in hand, and the rest of her words fell away. The king’s voice as decisive as steel, and it was also the first time I had ever heard him address a crowd. The man’s hair might be white but his manner cut like ice. There was no question he held the room’s attention.
“Today marks the beginning of a new reign. For the first time in our great nations’ history, Jerar and Pythus sit united as one. I toast to my firstborn son and his new bride, a lovely addition to the Crown. May the both of you live long and prosperous with many heirs to come.”
My tongue grew heavy in my mouth. What did Blayne’s marriage mean for Darren and me? The king had promised our wedding following the Pythian negotiations, but until now I had all but forgotten in the chaos that followed.
Darren caught me studying him, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and then he returned to scowling at the tapestry across the way.
I ground my teeth. This is going to be a long night.
Lucius continued on with a stern order for quiet. “This new treaty should dissuade the Caltothians for now, but it will not promise us peace. I have given Emperor Liang and King Joren my word Jerar will not initiate a war, but make no mistake—the next time King Horrace strikes we will have the strength of the alliance behind us.”
A murmur of dissent started up in the back of the hall. It wasn’t long before the crowd was in an uproar, baying for Caltothian blood. The new princess was one of the only ones who did not, and considering she could have very well married their prince instead, I understood her discomfort.
I kept quiet, too. Death didn’t excite me, and the prospect of war even after a new treaty was not something I wanted to ponder.
When the crowd finally settled, the king concluded his speech. “As tentative as our future might be, there is one thing for certain—and that is the Crown.” His gaze narrowed to Darren. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “Today’s union brings the onset of another. My youngest and his betrothed shall wed upon the progress’s return from Montfort. Their marriage will bind Jerar to the Borea Isles, and our alliance will be complete.”
“Here, here.” Duke Cassius pounded the table with his fist. His cheeks were ruddy—and from his high spirits I was sure he was on his second bottle for the night. “To the New Alliance. May great fortune favor us all.”
King Lucius’s discerning gaze swept the hall as he held his goblet high. “To the New Alliance.”
The sea of nobility raised its glasses in return, echoing the king’s words.
There was a moment of silence and then the herald emerged from the entry, clearing his throat. “Let the festivities begin!”
A procession of entertainers poured in from the hall.
Almost instantly the room was a cacophony of noise. Music started as a group of performers wove up and down the aisles, stringed rebecs and lutes in hand. A group of jesters. A pairing of performers with masks of popular gods. Another man spun sticks of fire in a fast-spinning web.
It wasn’t long before a dance broke out near the front of the room. The musicians filed into a corner and began their procession as courtiers flooded the ballroom’s center.
Prince Blayne was one of the first to escort his new bride to a dance.
I waited until the king and Duke Cassius were deep in conversation, then I took a deep breath and turned to face the prince at my right.
Darren’s garnet eyes met my own, but he made no attempt to smile.
“Are you going to ask me, too?”
His lip curled. “Really, Ryiah?”
“I am trying to make peace. This is your brother’s celebration, so won’t it be improper if we don’t?”
“I pay no heed to what anyone thinks.” He pushed back his chair, wood legs creaking against the marble floor as he stood. “Least of all you.”
I flushed. “That’s it? I return after four months apart and you are really so desperate to be rid of me? You don’t even want to try and have a conversation.”
“I’m sure you had a good cry and farmboy was there to comfort you in my place.”
My jaw dropped. “Do you think so little of me?”
Garnet flared in response. “I don’t know. Sometimes a person’s opinion can surprise you.”
“Darren, I’m trying to apologize.”
“You wouldn’t mean a single word.” His words were bitter as he started to walk away. “The truth is told in anger, not regret, love.”
I bit down on my tongue, and then followed Darren out into the hall, waiting until we were out of the public’s eye. “You hurt me too! I’m not the only one who needs to apologize!”
The prince turned around and his expression was callous. “You want an apology, Ryiah? I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t tell you the words you want to hear. You won’t win. I believe you are good, love.” His eyes were like twin pools of fire. “But you aren’t me. And I’m sorry you never had that privilege.”
Then he left me. Darren strode out into the night without a backwards glance and left me standing in that bright hall listening to the peals of laughter just behind.
My whole body felt like it had just been kicked to the ground. Every part of me squeezing in, tighter and tighter, until my vision was black and spots were dancing before my eyes. I couldn’t understand what had happened. My heart was hammering so hard it hurt.
Five long, shaky breaths. And then I was able to focus. Able to see.
On the night I had felt most beautiful Darren had made me feel my worst.
“Trouble in paradise?”
I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. Especially not him. I cursed my timing and turned to face Blayne with a false smile to my lips, praying to the gods my eyes weren’t as swollen as they felt.
“Leaving your new bride and festivities so soon?”
“I see.” He ignored my barbed comment. “Well, you left my brother in quite a state yourself.”
I didn’t want to talk about Darren with Blayne. I didn’t want to talk about myself. I wanted to be alone.
“You should know,” the crown prince drawled, “he will never change.”
“I don’t want him to change! I just want him to talk to me!” The words came uninvited, and I regretted them instantly. I didn’t want Blayne to know anything. But I had no one else.
I was alone. Ella was gone. My brothers were gone. My friends and family were across the countryside while I was trapped in the king’s court. Paige was somewhere in the palace as a sentry but it would take me half the night to find her. And even then, she didn’t like to talk about “feelings.” I was trapped in the palace, and I didn’t know what to do.
Blayne was the last person I trusted, but if what Benny said was true then he was possibly the one person who understood Darren. And that made me hesitate instead of sending him on his way, or sending myself on mine.
The crown prince glanced back at the dancers, looking for someone or something in the crowd—presumably his new wife, and then nodded toward a passage to our left. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
Blayne regarded me with a sneer. “You want my help or not, Ryiah?”
It was a challenge. A test of our supposed truce and my chance to find out more about his brother. I knew if I passed up this opportunity he would not offer it again.
Common sense bid I decline, but I was in no mood to listen to reason. I wanted to understand Darren, even if it meant spending time with the enemy.
I could only hope that Blayne didn’t choose this moment to suddenly return to his old nature.
“Lead the way.”
****
I didn’t know what I had expected, but the old queen’s chamber was certainly not part of the morbid possibilities in my mind. When Blayne took me to the royal wing I was sure he had made a mistake. But then he continued past the king’s chamber to the furthest door in the hall, one that had remained unoccupied since Queen Lillian’s death many years before.
I watched as the crown prince produced a large ring of keys from the pocket of his trousers, and then unlocked the door. Blayne paused as his hand stilled on the handle.
“You and I have our differences, but rest assured I love my brother, Ryiah. I believe that is the one thing we hold in common. What I am about to show, you are never to speak of to anyone. Do I have your word?”
I nodded.
He swung open the door, and I followed him inside. Then I took a step back, my back hitting the frame in horror.
Unlike the other royal chambers, this room had been stripped bare of material. No bed, no furnishings, no sprawling rug or tapestries. Nothing to suggest the queen had ever lived in the chamber at all. But that wasn’t why I had gasped.
Protruding from the back of the wall was a pair of chained manacles that were approximately three feet in height and a shoulder length apart. Another set rested along the ground, built into a metal bar lining the floor.
The swirled marble tile was discolored beneath the chains, as if someone—or two someones— had bled out repeatedly on its surface. The floor’s design was an elaborate design of red, gold, and violet swirl—the same as the rest of the palace— but the stain was much closer to rust.
“W-what is this place?” I choked. My heart was racing as I looked on and pictured a hundred horrible scenarios in my head. Reasons Blayne would need to show me this room. For the first time I prayed it was a ploy, that the crown prince’s motives were malevolent—anything but what I was imagining now.
“This was my mother’s room.” Blayne walked over to a dark pine chest I h
adn’t noticed, reaching out to take one of the contents: a foot-long pole with a chain of small, sharp blades attached to its cord. He tested its weight in his hand.
“She was much younger than my father, much more lovely and had the most beautiful singing voice you could ever imagine. Darren was too young to remember her much, barely two years at the time of her passing. But I did.” He dropped the whip, and I could hear him sigh. “My father was never a kind man. But losing my mother as he did, well I’m sure you’ve heard the stories…”
I swallowed. My parents had told me the tale as a child. Before I was born, Queen Lillian had been poisoned during a ceremonial feast. It was widely believed that her wine had been intended for the king. The aftermath was the stuff of legends. Following his wife’s death Lucius had ordered the entire hall interrogated and then executed at once. Among the victims had been his current board of advisors, a handful of nobility, the serving staff on hand, and several of his guard. A culprit had never been identified and sixty-two men and women had died that night.
Scholars suspected it was the first of the Caltothian attacks. They also called it the “Lily Queen’s Slaughter.”
“This room…” My heart slammed against my ribs as he continued. “He had the servants redecorate after she passed. None of the staff was allowed to enter, and only the head infirmary mage knew.”
The prince’s voice was hard. “There was the palace dungeon, of course.” The boy laughed, low and cruel. “But it would have been too much work to carry two unconscious boys up and down the palace halls when this room was unused—and so close to where we slept.”
Blayne met my gaze head on. “So he took us here.”
My knees threatened to give out, and I clung to the door’s frame for support. I could hear every word Blayne was saying, and yet there was a thundering in my ears. I felt sick to my stomach, and the pastries from earlier were fighting to rise as I gulped in deep lungfuls of air.
“Any time we disobeyed orders, any time he had too much to drink, any time he decided we were too soft to carry on his line.” The prince’s lips twisted at the memory. “The man always had his mage heal us when he was done. No one ever knew, and if word ever got out…Well, he was the king and there was nothing anyone could do unless they wished to find themselves on the receiving end of his attention, like us.”
The Black Mage: Candidate Page 15