The Black Mage: Candidate

by Rachel E. Carter

  “Us?”

  My parents stepped out from the corridor. “Oh, Ryiah,” my father said softly. He was staring at the bandage that was still visible through the neckline of my mage’s robe.

  “I’m fine, Dad.” The pity pressed at my lungs. I was suffocating in his expression.

  “We have some herbs that might help. We will send someone to drop a sachet to your healers tonight.” At least my mother was trying to maintain an air of normalcy. I prayed she would keep my father’s sympathy at bay.

  “Where’s Derrick? Alex?”

  “We thought it best if we came alone.” My mother’s eyes flashed a warning. It took me a moment to understand.

  The king. They were too afraid the guards would recognize Alex—and Derrick, well, he’d been so upset. And he was so stubborn. He had probably refused to come.

  A part of me deflated. My new life with Darren was supposed to be a dream, but so far it had only brought a whole string of complications. My own brothers couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see me. And right now I needed them more than anyone else.

  We had all grown up to the same expectation. We had made the same choices. Alex, my other half; Derrick, the younger, headstrong version of me.

  And now… now I didn’t know what to do.

  “Will they be coming tonight?”

  My father shook his head, his eyes flitting to my mother.

  “Darling,” my mother said, “the ceremony is only for nobility. We could state our relation but we’d rather not…” Draw the king’s attention to our family is what she didn’t say.

  A wave of fatigue washed over and I sat down quickly to avoid drawing their notice. My father’s brows furrowed, and my mother sucked in a sharp breath. I wasn’t fooling anyone.

  “I’m going.” Ella’s fingers interlocked with mine as she sat down beside me. “Someone should be there to support my best friend.”

  Paige appeared in the room. Her expression was half-concerned, half-aloof. “The king expects your presence soon. The ceremony is about to start.”

  “Thank you, Paige.” My father’s eyes softened. “We won’t keep our daughter much longer.”

  My parents came forward to each give me one long embrace, careful not to hug too tight. I found myself wishing I could prolong the moment. I saw them so little, and without tonight I doubted I would get a chance to stop by before we left.

  As soon as they were gone, along with my ladies-in-waiting, Paige returned.

  “Ready?”

  I nodded as Ella helped me stand. I was still wobbly on my feet, and it had cost too much of my energy just in dressing.

  The three of us left the infirmary and started the short walk to Baron Tybalt’s mansion where the evening’s festivities were to be held.

  Paige walked at the front, one hand on the hilt at her hip. Ella pressed closer to me, drawing my elbow in as she spoke.

  “I didn’t want to say this around the others, but I want you to know that tonight means nothing.”

  I faltered, and she met my eyes—a persistent light reflecting across twin pools of amber.

  “Darren might be the Black Mage, but I watched you from the stands, and I have never been so proud to call you my best friend.”

  My eyes started to blur, and I dug my nails into my palms to keep the tears from showing.

  “Our titles don’t mean a thing.” Her grip tightened on my arm. “I know what you are feeling because I feel it too. Of course we want to be the best. It’s what we trained for. But we don’t need a title to validate our hard work, Ry.” She raised her voice. “When we walk into that room tonight, it’s going to be with our heads held high.”

  I froze and Ella jerked to a stop.

  “Ry?” she asked hesitantly. “Is something—”

  I cut her off, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing. Paige paused ahead of us. She didn’t say a word—even though we were going to be late—she just stood to the side and surveyed the street.

  I kept my arms locked around my best friend. My whole body was shaking and silent sobs were rocking my chest.

  I kept my eyes clenched shut and clung to Ella until the tremors were gone. I hadn’t let myself cry over the duel in the hours since it happened—I’d been too afraid Darren would blame himself, too guilty my parents would sympathize. Too angry at myself.

  But here. Now. With my best friend. I let myself be.

  “I love you, Ella.”

  She brushed the back of my head. “I love you too, Ry. Don’t ever think you are not good enough.”

  ****

  The sprawling residence was almost as tall as the tops of the Candidacy stadium itself. Whoever had decided to call it a mansion had grossly underestimated its size. It might not be as big as the king’s palace in Devon, but it was at least equal to that of the Academy’s castle in Sjeka.

  A giant circular dome made up the highest point of the building, several sections of the roof supported by heavy columns and a steep indoor balcony overlooking the grand ballroom at the center. The whole place was a wash of white stone and golden tile. All over were raised statues depicting the four previous victors of each faction. I recognized the current one closest to the door –Marius’s crooked smile captured perfectly by the sculptor’s hand.

  I supposed Darren’s would be next.

  Heavy brocade curtains of blue and red adorned most of the many-paned windows, and a thick light streamed down from a hole at the center of the globe’s roof. At the angle it was placed it would highlight the victors’ balcony at precisely the right moment. I suspected that had been its intention.

  The moment Paige, Ella, and I entered we were offered a very fine selection of wines. Their heady aroma alone made my stomach roll, and sensing my discomfort Ella passed. Paige, off-duty for the night but rarely ever sociable, passed as well.

  As we took our places in the grand atrium we waited for the spectacle to begin. The room was packed full of nobility—ambassadors and highborns clamoring for the best place to stand. Darren and the other two victors, as well as the previous Council, were nowhere to be seen. I did spot the king and Blayne with Princess Wrendolyn a bit closer to the front, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of standing so close to the man who had put my brother through such a horrible ordeal just days before. The room was so crowded, and there were so many important dignitaries around I doubted he would even notice my absence.

  I felt Ella tense up as she noticed my stare. She had never trusted the Crown and I knew it was taking everything in her not to react. She put on a brave face, but she loved fiercely and was just as outspoken—if not more so— than I. It was killing her just to be in the same room as the man who had come so close to murdering her husband just to make a point.

  I was sick to my stomach just thinking of the long years ahead, trapped in the palace with Lucius as my father-in-law.

  Forcing my gaze elsewhere, I spotted Merrick glaring pointedly in my direction. As soon as he registered my attention he spoke loudly to his companion, proclaiming how big his winnings were from betting on the prince.

  Oh, and that the only reason I had beat him was because he’d thought it only fair to give “the girl” a chance. “Thought I would do her a favor, let the girls pretend they could win… for once.”

  Arrogant little—

  “My cousin is a fool.”

  My head swerved to the side and I heard Ella’s shocked intake of breath as Priscilla emerged from the audience. She wore her mage’s robe like a queen, and she didn’t appear to look the least perturbed over her loss.

  “S-sorry?” I stammered.

  “You heard me perfectly well the first time, Ryiah. I’m not going to repeat myself.”

  “Priscilla.” Ella wore a predator’s smile. “What a delight.”

  “Ah, and I see you haven’t lost your charm, Eleanor.” The girl gave my friend a curling smile before turning back to me. “I bet on you. For the final match.”

  So she was here to chastise me for losing h
er coin? I bit back a groan. Priscilla had always known Darren was better. Everyone else had. “I’m sorry for your loss.” I said it through clenched teeth.

  The girl rolled her eyes. “I’m not sorry. Well, I am that I have to listen to that idiot rattle on. But I’m not sorry I bet on you.”

  Ella’s jaw dropped to the floor, and I was sure mine followed.

  “Stop gawking, you two. I just came to tell Ryiah here that I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d won. Darren was good, but he was always good.” Priscilla crooked a nail at my face. “You, you are a cockroach. No matter how many times we tried to get rid of you, you kept finding a way to scuttle your way back. And as much as I don’t like you, well, you are persistent. And even I can admire you for that.”

  I opened my mouth and she cut me off with a hand to the face.

  “Don’t even bother, Ryiah. We aren’t friends, and I have no doubt you’ll make a horrible princess. I just thought I’d show you a bit of kindness before you run this kingdom to the ground.” Then she sauntered off like the lady of court she was.

  Leaving Ella and me to stare at her back in shock.

  “Did that really just happen?”

  “It did.”

  A cockroach.

  It was quite possibly the best and worst compliment I’d ever received.

  ****

  When the herald called his name, Darren emerged at the open balcony, Marius at his left.

  A collective murmur went through the audience as the Black Mage unclasped the robe from himself, placing the shimmering silk upon the non-heir’s shoulders. Darren stood so still as the gold-lined sleeves slipped down his arms.

  Marius stood beside him and raised its hood for the ceremonial pose. Sparkling gemstones danced across the stream of sunlight, the prince lit up like magic itself. His whole profile a heavy, ethereal glow.

  Sheathed in heavy shades of darkness and light.

  “Prince Darren, the new Black Mage of Jerar. A Colored Robe of the Council of Three. Lead Mage of Combat to the Crown. Representative for Combat upon the Council of Magic. We welcome you to your new role.”

  The roar was deafening. I pushed the twinge of envy aside as I screamed loudest of all. I could see Darren searching the crowd with his eyes, and when he finally spotted me beside Ella he gave a small smile. Fear was still written plain across his face, but he gained a bit of color after that.

  That’s the boy I love. For a moment I forgot myself and thought only of Darren. He worked so hard, I’m happy it’s him. And I meant it.

  ****

  After the first hour and a half Darren finally managed to break from the parade of endless courtiers and found me at the back of the room picking at the fresh array of cheese fritters, gingered custard, roasted leeks, and lamb and chickpea stew. His cheeks were flushed and from the way his eyes flitted to my bandage and then fell, I knew he still felt guilty from before.

  I made a point to cut the tension before it became worse. “The robe suits you. You look…” I made a hand gesture. “Possibly too good. I don’t like the way the other ladies have been admiring you.”

  I meant it. He looked like a god among men. And every woman in court was watching him—though, to be fair, they had never stopped. Not that I would ever tell him that.

  The tension left the prince’s shoulders as he advanced. “Have they now?”

  “I’ve been struggling to keep from locking them in a tower.”

  Darren’s grin turned wicked. “Perhaps I can wear it one night when we are alone.” He lowered his voice. “If it truly looks that amazing I’d like to see what that means for you.” The implication was enough for me to blush.

  “Ryiah! Darren! Just the two I wanted to see!” Andy’s voice rang out from behind.

  We turned to find our old comrade from Port Langli’s regiment, striding giant steps across the room with her stodgy cohort, the much quieter Cethan. We had spent a month serving alongside them when we were only apprentices, and in that time both Darren and I had gained a fondness for the two Combat mages of our past.

  Darren smiled. “Andy, Ceth, it’s great to—”

  I shrieked and threw myself at the tall woman, forgetting my injuries until it was too late.

  “Not smart, Ryiah.” I stepped back with a self-admonished critique as the others hid a grin.

  “Glad to see you both remember us.” Ceth’s smile was a bit strained given the room. He was uncomfortable at events like this—the man preferred sea with the silence of wind and a bit of bitter ale as company. Certainly not a crowd overflowing with nobility and wine.

  “Gods, this place is a bit much, don’t you think?” Andy hadn’t outgrown her habit of speaking her mind.

  Another familiar voice cut through the crowd like a knife. “Cassandra, that is no way to speak to the Crown!”

  Andy made a face and I cringed.

  Mage Mira appeared with a courtier’s smile aimed at the prince. “Your highness, how pleasant it is that we meet again. I’ve just been conversing with your dear brother. Ryiah… I see you are still here.” Her expression made it clear she didn’t care for it. “Well, carry on. I won’t keep you from your night of celebration, your highness.”

  “Thank you, Mage Mira.” The words flowed so easily from the prince’s tongue. “It has been pleasant to see you as well.”

  When Mage Mira had returned to the wretched hole she crawled out of Andy smirked at me. “Dragon Lady misses you.”

  “I don’t miss her.”

  “She was cursing your name the whole way to the capital.”

  “Is she still in Langli?”

  “Blessed gods, no. She’s been running around the countryside in one of those fancy Crown’s Army regiments with a promotion under her belt.” Andy grinned with a nod at Darren. “Or did you forget your little stunt in Dastan’s Cove? Our unit hasn’t seen quite so much action since.”

  I started to laugh and then stopped—a moment of shame soiling the brevity. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten our time on Caltothian soil so easily. The little girl and her mother. Our mission. What had ever happened to them? My eyes shot to Andy, but she shook her head, already guessing my question from the expression on my face.

  “Nobody knows.” Cethan’s gruff voice was a low rumble that blended in with the rest of the crowd. We were still under Crown orders not to discuss the assignment. Ever. I had to press closer to hear the rest. “We dropped them off at the city limits. Two men from the King’s Regiment came and took them away.”

  I turned to Darren who frowned. He looked bothered that he had forgotten them too. Kidnapping a woman and child was something a person shouldn’t be able to forget. But back then we had both been so busy with the apprenticeship and a tumultuous romance, it had happened anyway.

  “I asked my father that year we returned to the palace.” His eyes were on the king and the circle of ambassadors across the way. “He told me he couldn’t recall.”

  Andy and Cethan stuck around for a couple more minutes, trading easy jokes about their time in Langli, but it quickly drew to an uncomfortable note after she mentioned one of the new recruits, a handsome young man with a great sense of humor and “golden-green eyes.” “A shame he transferred to Ferren’s Keep last summer. Took off rather suddenly after he got the summons.”

  Cethan adjusted his vest. “It was about a girl, I believe. She had just accepted a post there.”

  Darren’s eyes shot to mine, accusingly, and I wanted to kick myself for letting this subject even come up. Why did they have to even know Ian? And what were they talking about? Cethan was mistaken.

  “I swear to you he never said a word.” My voice was barely a whisper. “Whatever Ian’s reason for coming, Darren, it wasn’t me.” I’m not lying. Please believe me.

  The prince’s pulse was hammering against his skin but he forced himself to exhale slowly. “I believe you.”

  Andy cleared her throat uncomfortably after exchanging a glance with her comrade. They hadn’t m
issed the conversation between us. “Well congratulations on your win, Darren. Ryiah, you gave a great effort. Who would have known we were in the presence of two prodigies that whole time onboard? Don’t forget us little people while you are saving the world.”

  Darren’s smile was forced, and mine wasn’t much better. I wanted to find Ian and confront him over Cethan’s accusation, but I was not about to do it around Darren. So I strung along and joined him for small talk instead. A long succession of well-wishers followed in Andy and Cethan’s wake.

  Last but not least were Blayne and his new wife. The crown prince and I still weren’t close by any means, but since his revelation I found him a bit harder to hate. I understood him, and that almost made it worse. We still avoided direct conversation if we could, and I spent the majority of our reunion conversing with Wren instead.

  Wren had a sweet tooth and was quick to describe each one of her favorite desserts since arriving in Montfort. Such a lovely girl. Even though she was boring me to death with talk of pastries, I still found myself eager to please. She was the complete opposite of her conniving uncle, Duke Cassius. Fortunately the Pythian ambassador was too busy filling his cup with drink to be much of a hindrance.

  “Which one was your favorite, darling?” Wren tugged on Blayne’s hand to draw him away from his talk with his brother.

  The crown prince took a deep sip from his glass. “The raspberry tart, same as you, my dear.”

  “Would you like me to—”

  “Blayne, you don’t look well.” Darren interrupted the princess with a start.

  “You don’t look that well, either, Darren.” Blayne’s tone was sardonic.

  “True, but I’m still healing.” The non-heir’s brow furrowed. “You have nothing to be healing from.”

  I studied Blayne and was alarmed to see Darren was right. A heavy sheen of sweat had broken out along his brother’s forehead. Blayne looked pale—so much lighter than when he and Wren had arrived a mere five minutes before.