The Black Mage: Complete Series

by Rachel E. Carter

  Darren frowned as he countered and cut. “This is not about me beating you, Ryiah.”

  “Then what is it?” Because it clearly wasn’t practice for him.

  “I want you to cast out your magic again, like you were doing before you noticed me. You shouldn't have to think before you use it now. When you fail to defend yourself with the real sword, I want your casting to engage me instead.”

  I sucked in a breath and tried my magic again. The blade came along easier than the last. I willed it to hold its own defense, as Darren suggested, and continued to strike and parry with the sword I held in my hands.

  Darren began to pick up the pace.

  The prince’s blade struck so fast my muscles could no longer react. The cut should have reached my shoulder, but my magic and Darren’s sword collided instead.

  Wow. My eyes widened as we continued to spar. I didn’t realize I could do that. Not like this.

  “Magic learns over time,” he panted. “Keep challenging it, and the casting becomes instinct. The projection is already stored up in your mind.”

  Each time Darren caught the best of my physical defense, my magicked sword parried in defense. The prince's cuts, unlike Ella’s and most of our faction, didn’t give me enough time to visualize how my casting would guard. My magic had to rely on instinct, something it'd never done before.

  “I think that’s enough.”

  After ten more minutes of sparring, my castings had faltered. I was now covered in welts. Darren lowered his blade, and I followed. He was breathing a little harder, though nothing like the heavy gasping of my own.

  “That was incredible.” I leaned against the mirror, letting the glass panel cool my back. I didn’t want to admit it, but a part of me felt faint from all of that casting. Apparently, my magic cost more stamina in that sort of always-present defense.

  Darren vanished his sword with the flick of his hand. “You've come a long way.”

  When he looked up, there was an odd expression in his eyes. Was I being appraised? I was immediately conscious of what I must look like.

  My cheeks burned. So many girls had dressed up for the prince tonight, and here I was at my worst.

  Not like you care about impressing him, I chided.

  “Why did you come here?” There was a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I wanted it to go away.

  “I followed you.”

  “What do you mean you followed me?”

  “I mean—” his mouth twitched “—that I was on my way to the barracks when I saw you storm off angrily toward the armory. I was curious if you’d set the building on fire.”

  I flushed. “That was one time, and it wasn’t a building!”

  “What can I say?” Darren smirked. “We all know you have a temper.”

  I glared at him. “Only where you’re concerned. The buildings are safe.”

  Instead of scowling, he laughed. “It’s good to see you’re back.”

  I guffawed. “What does that mean?”

  “You were sad.”

  I couldn’t reply. There was a lump in my throat, and now I was confused. Why did he even care? And why did I care that he’d noticed? Was he looking at me? I couldn’t find it in myself to meet his gaze.

  Darren shifted, looking uncomfortable. He started toward the doorway and then turned back. I snuck a look and saw him clenching and unclenching his fist, his expression torn.

  “For what it's worth,” he said suddenly, “a shield is not meant to be hit head-on.”

  Huh?

  “It's meant to be held at an angle so that you can deflect or, at the very least, lessen your opponent's blow. If you do it right, it gives you the chance to lead a counterattack, something that most opponents are unprepared for in the heat of the moment.” Darren paused to meet my eyes. There was something there, and a knot twisted in my chest. “You should try it next time, Ryiah.”

  Before I could reply, he was gone, leaving me alone with a series of unanswered questions.

  What in the name of the gods was that?

  IT WAS MUCH LATER that night, after I’d already fallen asleep, that I woke up with a start.

  “You should try it next time.”

  At first, after the prince had left, I’d been irate. His remark had been just another critique, one that insinuated I didn't know what I was doing, all in the guise of advice. I’d tossed and turned, punching the pillow and fisting the sheets.

  But then my nightmare had come and gone. And in it, just as each night before, I relived that horrible day on the field, the day Priscilla had made me a fool in front of our entire faction.

  The duel haunted me each time I closed my eyes.

  Only this time, I noticed something new.

  My shield.

  Each time Priscilla had led the assault, I'd held my casting directly in front of my body. I’d assumed the best defense was one that left no part of me exposed—but, by doing so, I’d let the full force of her magic hit my shield head-on. Not only had her casting destroyed my defense, it’d sent me sprawling to the ground.

  What would’ve happened if I'd held the shield at an angle instead? According to Darren, it would’ve deflected and lessened the blow, maybe even have left Priscilla open to an attack of my own.

  I was so used to fighting with weapons directly, I had never stopped to consider how I used my defense.

  And that's when it hit me.

  The prince had been trying to help me.

  Against Priscilla.

  11

  “What is it you want me to do again?”

  “I want you to hit me with your magic.”

  “Are you sure?” Clayton gawked. “It’s going to hurt, Ryiah.”

  “If you won’t do it, I will.” Ella gave me a wink. “You know I’ll never hold back for you, Ry.”

  I grinned right back. “Nor would I for you.”

  “You cast even harder than me!” Clayton shot Ella a look. “You’ll break Ryiah’s ribs.”

  Thanks for the vote of confidence.

  I held my hands to the air. “I don’t care who does the casting, I just want to practice a blasted shield.”

  “But the healers are off duty. If you get hurt—”

  “Then we’ll send for my brother.” I folded my arms defiantly. “I’ll survive, Clay.”

  “Why do you even want to do this?”

  “You both saw how badly I performed at the mid-year duels.” Neither spoke. “I’m good with attacks, but I need a better defense.” That, and a little something the prince had said the night before. But I wasn’t about to mention that.

  “The duel was weeks ago, Ryiah. You’ve got to let it go.”

  “Ella?” I was sick of arguing. Clayton had a little sister and was too easy on the girls in our faction. I hated to say it, but I wasn’t sure he’d snag an apprenticeship at the end of the year. If he went up against Priscilla, Eve, or even Ella, he was done. Hopefully me too at some point, but I had work to do first.

  Darren’s advice had been plaguing me since I awoke, and now that we had a week of reprieve, I intended to make the most of it.

  “Clayton, if you can’t keep your opinions to yourself, go bother someone else.”

  “Maybe I will.” He marched off with a huff. “You two are mad!”

  “Well, we wouldn’t be here if we weren’t.” Ella nodded. “You ready, Ry?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” I backed up ten yards and spread my legs shoulder-width apart, hands braced at my sides.

  Ella released her casting with the flick of her hand, and a second later, there was a flurry of snow tearing across the field.

  I can do this.

  A shield appeared in my hands. This time I angled the casting to the side instead of holding it directly in front of my chest.

  It felt strange, being exposed. I tucked my left shield arm inward so that my wrist almost brushed my ribs. My right foot shifted forward, knees slightly bent.

  Wham!

  Ella’s c
asting hit me at full force. Magic slammed into the shield with a crash.

  There was the sound of creaking wood, and then the shield cracked.

  The next thing I knew, I was lying face down in the snow.

  Dear gods, was I trying to kill myself? It felt like someone had taken a hammer to my side.

  “How do you feel?”

  I waved Ella off with a feeble groan. Today I’d master Darren’s advice, even if I broke every rib in the process. If nothing else, I would give Alex a reason to put his lessons to work. I just prayed the masters had given him enough tools to heal bones shattered to bits.

  “Are you going to tell me what this practice is really about?”

  I brushed off the splintered fragments from my shirt and smiled. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  Her expression faltered. “The prince?”

  Was I that obvious? I nodded.

  “You sure he was trying to help?” Her lips were pursed. “It could be sabotage.”

  “Why?” I laughed. “I’m hardly competition.”

  “He went after you and Alex in orientation.”

  How could I explain that was a lesson too? Twisted, yes. But that was Darren… Nothing was ever what I expected.

  Funny, because he’d said something similar about me.

  Why am I still thinking about the prince?

  “Let’s just try the casting again.” I didn’t understand Darren or his help, and I wasn’t sure I ever would.

  Ella sighed. “He’s not a good person, Ryiah.”

  I didn’t argue. The prince was someone else’s enigma; I just cared about his advice.

  Liar.

  I returned to my starting stance as Ella braced for a second attack. “Ready?”

  I widened my legs and cast a new shield at a greater angle than the last.

  “Go.”

  Her magic slammed my defense.

  I gritted my teeth and dug my heels into the ground. My head roared from the sudden blow to my casting, but the magic held. It’s working!

  Then, suddenly, the pressure fell away.

  There was a loud, splintering crack yards away.

  I spun.

  One of the beams in the fence had split open behind me. I’d redirected Ella’s casting. There were fragments of wood scattering the ground.

  And my shield was still intact.

  “I did it!” I let out a screech, jumping up and down like I was five years of age. “I did it!”

  “You've got this, Ry!” Ella cheered me on. “The next time you duel someone, you’re going to wipe the ground with them!”

  “Even if it’s you?”

  “Don’t be greedy.” She laughed. “You’ll never beat me. Now get ready.”

  “Ready,” I said.

  So she cast out her magic again. And again. About a quarter of the time, I gripped my shield at just the right angle and my defense held. The rest of Ella's castings, I missed completely and her force sent me staggering back with the broken fragments of a shield along the snow.

  Ten more times and I fell to the ground, vomiting the contents of my breakfast onto the freshly fallen snow.

  Ah, practice.

  At just that moment, a pack of first-years cut across the field. Among them was the prince, dark eyes averted and mouth pressed in a permanent frown of contempt. He didn’t see us—he was too busy listening to a boy at his right.

  Darren looked like a stark, black wolf against the frozen landscape.

  I swallowed as I watched him pass. A part of me kept remembering his words in the armory. You were sad. Why was that residing in my chest?

  Why did it even matter? Why did I care?

  My gaze trailed after Darren as he and his group continued their trek to the top of the hill. Like half the faction, they were training during their week off.

  It would’ve been too much to hope that the prodigies grew lax. Gods only knew they’d never let someone like me catch up.

  “Ryiah?” Ella was watching me with a frown.

  I looked away and focused on the ground. For the first time, I was torn. The prince played the villain in my story. He played the role in every conventional sense.

  So why was I still so confused?

  THE WEEK of reprieve came and went too fast for comfort. I wasn’t sure I even accepted the passing of days. Everything was an endless cycle of routine. Drill and cast, study and fight. The only noticeable change was the absence of masters; everything else remained.

  Before I knew it, it was the final day of our break.

  Half of our year sat over dinner, too exhausted to eat. Clayton and James were a part of the other half; the ones who’d slept in and wandered around the seaside for most of the week. Even Ella, Ruth, and Alex had given themselves an hour or two’s rest in the evenings with the absence of assignments. I’d declined every time.

  What did that make me? Was I too ruthless? Too competitive? Did I want this faction too much?

  My parents had always joked I was a dog with a bone, that once I found something I wanted, they’d have to pry it from my teeth to get me to let go.

  I wanted to believe my drive was a gift. But was it too much?

  No. Darren hadn’t stopped training either. And he was the best in our year.

  He hadn’t been in the library, but I’d seen him in the snow, walking back from the armory each night to the barracks.

  Was he avoiding me? Was he hoping I’d return to the armory?

  I told myself it didn’t matter. But every day in practice with Ella, I’d been reminded why it did.

  I didn’t trust him.

  But he’d also helped me more times than I cared to admit.

  I set my glass down with a bit too much force. Water flew out across the table, and my friends guffawed.

  “Watch yourself, Ryiah!” Ruth pulled her books off the table and dabbed at their covers with the sleeve of her tunic.

  “Everything okay?” Ella had been watching me closely all week. She hadn’t said anything, but I could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t going to voice her opinion again unless I asked.

  I avoided her gaze. “I'm fine.” I think.

  “You haven't eaten,” Alex observed.

  “I have a lot on my mind.” I stood, banging my knee against the underside of the table. “I'm going to study. Find me when you’re done.” I needed to get away from their questions and Darren’s looming face in my head. Away from everything.

  Books and drills, they were the two things I could depend on to clear my mind. Anything else was a mistake.

  I was about halfway to the library when I spotted the source of my frustration. I’d mistakenly assumed he was somewhere in the dining hall with the rest. Instead, he was in the midst of conversation with Jake and William, the two burly brothers who always seemed to be everywhere he went. They were debating the merits of the crossbow in the center of the hall.

  Just like them to stand there oblivious of anyone who needed to pass.

  I cleared my throat, and all three of them turned to stare. I avoided Darren as I fixated on my least favorite of the brothers. Jake’s sour expression returned my own; neither of us had forgotten the rope incident during orientation.

  After Priscilla, Jake was my least favorite of their group.

  “Are you going to continue to block the hall or are you going to let me pass?”

  The boy snorted without budging an inch. “Where are your manners, lowborn? I think the word you are looking for is ‘please.’”

  “Get out of my way before I grind you into a pulp.” Or myself, whatever came first. I wasn’t going to cower or fall over myself pretending like he was my better. We were equals here at the Academy—maybe not outside of it, maybe I was cocky from all my conversations with the prince, but I wasn’t about to let the brute walk all over me.

  Or maybe I was just bristling for a fight. Maybe I was wondering why the prince had been avoiding me all week.

  “You really think you can take me?
”

  “Jake, let her pass.”

  Gah. That voice. My eyes involuntarily shot to the prince. He was watching me with the hint of a smile playing across the corner of his mouth.

  “Go ahead, Ryiah,” he said, “we won’t stop you.”

  And now he was being kind. It was too much.

  I shoved past the two brothers, not bothering to apologize, my hand grasping the door handle as I told myself I didn’t care.

  But I did. Blast him. I couldn’t walk away. Not before I thanked him, even if it cost me my pride.

  I spun around and croaked his name.

  “Yes?” Darren’s eyes were dancing.

  “Can we talk?”

  He arched a brow.

  “Alone.”

  The brow arched higher as William growled, “You have no business talking to a prince.”

  My teeth gnashed together as I snarled, “Whatever business I have is none of yours.”

  Jake and William exchanged speculative glances. Darren motioned for them to leave, and the two of us were left standing alone in the hall. Is it always this dark in here? I was suddenly nervous.

  “What do you want, Ryiah?”

  I stared at the ceiling; I couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “I want to apologize.” Gods, was it always this hard to talk to him? “I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I realized that I've been making the same mistakes I accused you of.” Keep talking. “You're not a very nice person,” I admonished, “but you aren't the horrible one I made you out to be either. And for that, I'm sorry. You helped me when you had no reason to, so thank you.”

  Silence greeted my admission. I felt foolish standing there when it was clear he had nothing to say. It doesn't matter, I told myself. You've made your peace. Your conscience is clear now. Rather than stick around in awkward silence, I gave a curt nod and turned toward the door.

  “Ryiah, wait—”

  Darren’s hand shot out to grab my wrist. I barely caught a glimpse of the strange expression on his face before his fingers closed around my arm. I went from flushed to a raging fire in seconds. I couldn’t think. Sparks had flooded my chest.

  My eyes snapped to Darren, who looked as if someone had stuck him with a red-hot poker. He was staring at me with a look stuck somewhere between wonder and abhorrence.