“Promise me, Ryiah, when this war is over, we leave this all behind. Promise we will be them.”
“I promise.”
****
The weeks following King Lucius’s funeral brought with them a wave of change. Some good, some bad… well, they were primarily bad.
The entire castle was in mourning. It was a three-month duration in which we were required to dress in somber colors and postpone the Crown’s weekly entertainment for the nobility at court. To honor our late king in longstanding tradition. Unfortunately, it also meant our wedding was postponed.
“Which is just as well because we don’t have Emperor Liang’s backing until we get King Joren to stop dragging his feet,” Blayne had been quick to point out. “Until he acknowledges our claim, we have no reason to forsake tradition and expedite a wedding.”
One of the other things to go from bad to worse. The Pythian king was now stating that he had received correspondence from King Horrace that stated his ambassador was acting without orders. His call “For Caltoth” could have been a “ploy” from Jerar to extract sympathies for a call to war. The letter even went so far as to say the attackers were executed before a panel of unbiased parties could question them. In other words, the Caltothians were blaming Jerar.
What surprised me most was that King Joren was even listening to their claims. After all, his own brother had watched his daughter get murdered before his very eyes.
How a king could just put aside the loss of his daughter and ignore the facts was beyond suspicious. A king so willing to listen to the man who had had his daughter slaughtered for show? There had to be more. Even to a girl like me with no knowledge of this sort of thing. Something else was afoot, I just didn’t know what.
Were the Pythians working with the Caltothians? But then why go through all the false efforts to negotiate? Why marry a daughter when she could have been sent to marry the other king’s son in the first place? Why pick the losing side?
Were they working with the rebels? But that wouldn’t make sense either. Caltoth was the one who had been raiding and attacking our border for years. And if they had wanted to rule Jerar our treaty should have been enough—they hadn’t needed to work up from the bottom rung of the rebels to seize control.
Or was King Joren so shrewd that he could sit upon his throne and deliberate? That he would ignore the facts and pick apart meaningless details to postpone promised aid after our call to war. To claim he sought the truth when he really just sought an escape.
Blayne sent two ambassadors to Pythus to plead our case. They would remain in his court as a constant reminder until he honored the New Alliance. An envoy traveled back and forth by ship, a new letter with updates on our progress every month to give us hope. Sooner or later Jerar would receive its promised aid. Our king refused to consider the alternative.
That wasn’t the only change to pass.
Mage Mira was promoted to lead mage in the King’s Regiment. Much to my chagrin she was my direct commander. I had only just come into my new role, and thanks to the Montfort attack she refused to send me even outside the palace gates. My new service was limited to guarding the Council of Magic’s official chamber.
Four of the seven days each week, I spent dawn until dusk securing its entrance, growing more restless with each passing hour. The longer I spent watching Darren and the other two Colored Robes, Karina for Restoration and Yves for Alchemy, come and go for their meetings with Blayne and his new circle of advisors, the more I grew to resent my role, and in some ways myself.
He was better. It was the first sentence that came to mind when I woke. And it was the last before I went to bed. I hated myself for even thinking it, but every time I grew restless, every time Mira barked at me to stop my complaints, it was there.
If I were just a boy, and you were just a girl… If that were true I wouldn’t be trapped in the palace. I wouldn’t be “too valuable to send out on missions,” as Mira had sneered. I wouldn’t be serving as a sentry; I would be out doing things. Making a difference. Blayne had promised me as soon as we went to war I would be able to take on a more active duty, and he had made an effort to include me in his war council meetings on my days off… but it wasn’t enough.
In all fairness, the whole of Jerar had grown silent as a front. Rebel attacks had ceased in the south; no more raids to the north. There wasn’t action to be had, anywhere. Every pair of eyes was trained on Caltoth as we waited for good news from King Joren of Pythus.
A rampant hate was spreading across the countryside like the plague. Our king had been cut down in cold blood. Just a year before our stronghold, attacked. The Caltothians were ruthless, relentless in their pursuit of our land.
Any reluctance to war had disappeared under the latest attack.
Darren was at its head. Following his father’s funeral, the prince had channeled his grief into rage. Rage that boiled over into his work. I hardly ever saw him outside the Council doors. Every waking moment was spent at his brother’s side. Daring the rebels of Jerar to try an attempt again, daring Caltoth to send its army now. His mother and father had been murdered, his brother barely left to live. The Black Mage of Jerar was ready to lead us to war, and I was ready to serve.
Our enemies had to pay. Those heartless, faceless others who had stolen so much. It was a fire consuming the dark. Fanning us with its flames. Searing a brand right across our hearts.
Perhaps that was why I didn’t notice when one walked right through the palace doors.
Chapter Sixteen
“Derrick?” I stopped dead in my tracks. Paige’s blunt practice sword hit me across the stomach, hard. I barely noticed.
My little brother was standing behind the spectator glass of the palace’s indoor training courts.
“Surprise, big sister.” He gave me a small smile and my heart did a flip. “Did you miss me?”
My casted polearm vanished, and I all but slipped across the marble floor as I ran to meet my brother in the stands. No one else was present except my knight who had returned to her own warm-ups now that I had stopped our practice. The rest of the court was still asleep. I would have been too, if I had been able. Unfortunately my many late hours of restless duty had left me unable to sleep for more than a few hours at a time.
“What are you doing here?” I threw my arms around him, for a moment forgetting that I was covered in sweat. “Why aren’t you in Ferren?”
“I felt terrible after I left Montfort.” His voice was muffled. “After what happened I realized the person I was really mad at was myself. I—I was punishing you for something that wasn’t your fault—”
“Derrick.” I pulled back. “I’m so sorry about Alex, I never—”
“I know.” He cut me off. “I knew then, too, but I was so angry I just didn’t care… After I returned to the keep I started to think about that night. Nine people were murdered, and my own sister could have been one of them. I wouldn’t have been there to save you because I was too busy sulking like a child.” Derrick drew a deep breath. “I would have never forgiven myself. So I wrote Darren and begged a position on the palace regiment.”
“You did?” He had never mentioned it.
Derrick nodded, his arms tightening around my waist. “I couldn’t let anything happen to my sister. He understood and I-I think he wanted you to have some family here… so you wouldn’t feel so alone. He mentioned you’d had a hard time adjusting to the palace.” My lungs constricted, just a little. Darren had noticed. All this time I had been envying his role, and he had been worrying over me. “I now serve with you on the King’s Regiment. I’ve a cot in the barracks outside. I reported to their lead soldier last night—I was so tired it took me until this morning to come find you. I checked your chamber first but the guards told me you were in the practice court with her.” His grin turned teasing. “Neither of you has changed one bit.”
“Neither have you.” I stepped back with an embarrassed laugh. His freshly pressed clothes were now damp with
my perspiration. I pointed to his tunic. “Sorry, that wasn’t my smartest moment.”
“You couldn’t contain your excitement to see me again.” His eyes danced. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Even if it does smell like an army of men rotting at sea.”
I shoved him away and made a face. “I don’t smell nearly as bad as the men we trained with in Ferren. And I wash regularly. Unlike the others.”
“Well, why don’t you wash up again? And then give me a tour of this palace? It’s your day off, the guards said, no?”
“It is.” I waved at Paige to let her know I was done for the morning. I could make up our practice later on my own. Or maybe Derrick could join me. “When do you start service?”
“Tomorrow.”
****
Everything was better now that Derrick and I had made up from our fight in Montfort. Better even, because Darren was right. I had been suffering from loneliness since our return. I hadn’t grown up highborn. I hadn’t spent endless summers in the palace. I didn’t have friends among the court. I had tried, with some of the regiment’s soldiers, but most of them preferred silence in duty and the nobility were too eager to strike up a friendship with the Crown’s future princess. I’d been wary of all but Paige, and now that Derrick was here I had another to turn to. Someone to confide my own thoughts so I wouldn’t have to burden Darren with my jealousy and resentment.
Someone who—unlike Paige—could share in my opinion. The knight would never dare open her feelings up to the world. Even if she was formerly lowborn and now placed in a position of power. She preferred to stick to the task at hand and that was the end. Derrick was like me. He had chased power, pursued Combat even, and then turned to the Cavalry when his first dream got pushed aside.
“I was jealous of you and Alex,” he admitted, one afternoon while we were drilling in the soldier’s training court outside. “But especially you, because you had it all. The faction, the apprenticeship, you even made a name for yourself with Sir Piers and the Black Mage. You convinced a prince to call off his engagement. Our parents were so proud. They would talk about Alex, but it always came back to you. Every letter.”
I swallowed as I blocked his blade with my own. “I had no idea.”
He shook his head, tufts of blond, curling locks clearing his bright blue eyes. “And I didn’t want you to. I was proud of you… Just, even if I was happy, it hurt. For years. It wasn’t until Commander Nyx promoted me to her keep’s regiment it finally started to fade. Until I started to make a name for myself.”
I fell back and let Derrick take another swipe and kick at my feet. I twisted and parried his cut with ease. Hearing my own brother confess to his own insecurity, his own jealousy… it made it easier to breathe. What I was feeling was normal.
“Did you… did you ever start to believe you were a terrible person?”
“Every day. I would try to stay positive in our letters. It was easy because of the distance, and I really did miss you. But every time we were together and I watched you smile talking about your new life, I hated you. And I hated myself even more for thinking it.”
Our match ended and Derrick sheathed his blade. My own casting vanished. The two of us went to sit against a bench. “I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t you, Ryiah. It was me. Something I had to overcome for myself.” His gaze fell to my own and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You wouldn’t happen to have the ring your foolish brother cast away like a dolt?”
I tugged the leather cord from underneath my shirt. The tarnished copper band hung from its center, the letter “R” glinting along its surface. “Does this mean I am your favorite again?” My grin was wide. “Because I will only give it back if I am.”
Derrick snickered. “Poor Alex never had a chance. The two of us are far too evil for the likes of a nice brother like him.”
****
The next month passed by in a blur. My duties became more bearable after my talk with Derrick, and as much as I resented Mage Mira’s obvious distaste where I was concerned, I embraced my role to the fullest. One thing was for certain: the Council chambers would be the most well guarded room in the palace.
And it was. Until the night I was doing a routine patrol down the hall and Darren appeared leaning against the entry with a wicked smile in play.
“Hello, lady mage,” he said, “perhaps you can tell me why this chamber was left unattended for an hour putting our entire kingdom at risk?”
One eyebrow shot up as I fixed the prince with an incredulous expression. “It’s been attended all night. I was the one guarding it.”
He peeled himself off the paneling with an even deeper grin. “I think you are mistaken.”
“And I think you have lost your mind.”
“Then tell me why the inside is a mess.”
“A-a mess?” I faltered. Had I missed something? Someone snuck past me the moment my back was turned? Why was he still smiling like one of the palace cats who had gotten into the cook’s cream? “Show me!”
He produced a key and swung open the handle. I hurried past to check.
Not a thing was out of place. All the books still on their shelves, the giant maps of Jerar and its neighbors aligning the walls, the great Council table and chairs, the great chests still with their locks, even the flourishing tapestries exactly as before. Not since my inspection an hour ago had one object moved in the slightest.
I turned an accusatory finger back at the prince. “You see, nothing has changed!”
“But it will.” Darren shut the door and locked it behind him, looking up at me from underneath long, sooty lashes. The side of his mouth was twitching to hold back a smirk.
Oh. I wanted to kick myself. This.
“I am sorry,” he said, “that I have been so busy.”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“I’ve been going mad,” he confessed. “Our wedding postponed. All the Council meetings. Only sharing meals. I…” He stopped as he drew up next to me at the center of the room. My back was pressed against the cold stone table, and there was nowhere else I could go.
Even if I wanted to. Which I didn’t.
“I miss you even when you are standing in front of me now.” The words came out in a rush as he met my eyes. “All I’ve been able to think about is you. We are going to go to war, and I’m the Black Mage and the whole time I am supposed to be leading those meetings I am thinking about you.” His head dipped so that his lips were bare inches from my own. “I haven’t stopped, love.”
“I…” I could barely speak, my pulse was deafening. “I think about...”
“What do you think about?” His hands fell to either side of the table, pinning me in place. His eyes were like coals.
“You.” His whole body was pressed against me, and it did odd things to my head. I was dizzy and too hot and too cold. All at once. All I could think about were his legs brushing mine, his chest rising and falling with my own, his hands on my skin.
“And?”
I licked my lips and his eyes followed the movement. A smile tugged at the corner of his own.
“Kiss me, Ryiah.”
I rose to my toes, and he cut the distance in half. Sparks flared in the shadows as his mouth found mine in the dark. I heard him choke back a groan, and it was all I could do not to gasp.
“What else do you think about?” His breath was hot in my ear. His fingers were trailing down my ribs as he pressed down, my back arching against his.
“Do you think about this?” He bit down on my lower lip, and I couldn’t stifle the whimper I emitted in response.
His tongue tangled with mine, and my whole body was ablaze. Hot, searing chills assaulted my limbs until I was panting for air. The prince of Jerar kissed me, and I swear to the gods I was catching fire because of it.
Heat flared in the pit of my stomach as he whispered the words. “What do you want, Ryiah?”
His hands lifted me against the cold ma
rble top, and my legs wrapped around his waist before I even realized what I was doing. Shock and desire coursed my cheeks.
“Darren,” I stammered.
“Ryiah.” He was staring down at me, and I fought to break the spell that had found its way inside my head. His hands were pressed flat against the table on either side of me and heat was chasing through my veins, filling the pit of my stomach and up, up, down. The entire room was a haze. I wanted to pull Darren down to me and close any semblance of space between us.
I didn’t want him wearing those clothes.
I swallowed. The thought should have stunned me but now… Now when every part of me was dying just for this.
I knew what he wanted.
I wanted it too.
“Ryiah.” Darren raised one hand to lift my chin and meet my eyes with his own. His gaze was a bottomless abyss. Dark garnet swallowed me whole. The color reminded me of a setting sun: the moment red faded into black and became something else, something that pulled and drove you to madness, so beautiful you kept staring because you could no longer see anything else.
“I love you,” he whispered.
I pulled Darren to me and kissed him. One long, slow kiss that told him everything I was too afraid to put into words. His eyes flared and Darren pressed into me in response, kissing me back in a breathless rush. His fingers slipped down, down to the hem of my shirt and my breath hitched.
My pulse thundering as I tore off his vest, my grip sliding on tile as his mouth found my neck.
There was a scratching, an odd creak, and for a moment I thought it was my fingernails against the marble top. But they were still in his hair, pulling as hot lips pressed into my skin, searing me alive.
Then the creak again and the soft squeak of a hinge.
I jerked back, my head banging against the table while Darren threw himself around, blocking me from the intruder, one hand casting a bright sheen of light against the chamber door.
“Derrick?” Darren’s wheeze was echoed in my own. I struggled to right myself and adjust my top that had fallen low to one shoulder, snarled in my hair.
The Black Mage: Candidate Page 24