“We are Combat. That’s a part of the risk. They are only upset because you’re their daughter.”
“Alex was furious.”
“Not Derrick. Your little brother is like us.” She adjusted the pillow at my back. “He wants to join Combat too. Trust me, he gets it.”
Or maybe he was just excited I’d blown something up, but I didn’t mention that aloud. Ella seemed determined to cheer me up no matter what.
“You and Ray lasted the longest, Ry. I think you were the most evenly matched. The judges will take that into account.”
My hands twisted in the covers, but I was too tired to argue. I knew I’d be spouting the same nonsense if our roles were reversed.
Ella continued on like she hadn’t noticed my mood. “Priscilla won her match with the same strategy she used to beat you in the mid-year duels. You missed that, of course. And the prince and Clay.”
“Who won?”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Darren.”
“It was the shortest match the Academy has ever seen. The Black Mage gave him a standing ovation.”
I picked at the food one of the healers had brought in from the dining hall. On the day I humiliated myself, the prince would be a shining prodigy to worship. The gods really hated me.
Why did I even bother with this school?
I was on orders to spend the entire night in the infirmary, and the walls were closing in. I wanted to run and scream, and instead I was stuck. I couldn’t even stand. My stomach was queasy and hollow, and I was seconds from puking into a bucket.
I had only myself to thank for the pain I was in right now.
Ella leaned in to refill my water. “Master Barclae announced the order of the second trials.”
I pushed peas around my plate, sighing.
“Ryiah… you are one of the first-years taking them tomorrow.”
My grip on the fork tightened until my fingers were white. “So soon?”
“It was a random drawing for all of the factions.” Ella swallowed. “Combat has the most students, so some had to go tomorrow.”
Was I really ready to walk away from Combat without trying? I set my plate to the side.
“I should just leave.” There was no point entertaining this fantasy; I’d held onto an impossible dream far longer than I should. I needed to accept what could never be. “They’ll never let someone like me get a robe after what happened today.”
For once, Ella had the decency to duck her head. “You could still win an apprenticeship, Ry, if your answer—”
“How many have been apprenticed after losing a duel?”
She didn't answer. We both knew the truth.
Two. In close to a century of the school’s founding, there’d been only two.
“You’re a fighter, Ry. I know you will take this to the end. It’s what my best friend and a Combat mage would do.”
“And if I don’t?” My reply was bitter. “Will you fault me if I walk away now?”
She met my eyes, and her expression was fierce. “You won’t.”
BLAST HER, Ella was right. I couldn’t leave this place. Not yet.
I woke that morning and snuck down to the barracks before the first toll of the morning bell, determined to pack my bags and leave before dawn.
Instead, I found myself strolling onto the Academy field and staring up at the stands, finding them oddly barren without thousands of bodies lining their seats. I sat there on the highest bench, looking down at the field and what remained of the armory, a mountain of lumber and dirt.
I tried to imagine a different ending to that duel, but I couldn’t. A part of me knew, if faced with the same choice, I would have made the same choice again. Pain casting had been reckless, yes, but I’d been backed into a corner, and it had been my only out. Ella had said she would have done the same. Was she just saying that to be nice?
Would a warrior surrender to certain terms, or just take a risk? I’d taken a risk, and it hadn’t paid off, that much was certain. I’d destroyed a building and almost killed a fellow student.
Still, there’d been too much sweat and blood to walk away now. I would stick it out.
I’d given most of my youth for a chance to be a part of this place. Every waking dream of childhood, every hope I’d ever held—they’d all centered around a robe and the adventure on the other side. All those storybooks about those brave knights and the mages of legend—I couldn’t leave that little girl behind without completing this one final test.
This girl was a fighter. She could never be anything else.
I would stay for the ceremony, too. I would watch as Darren, Eve, and the others received something I hadn’t been fit to earn. I would stay so that I could close this final chapter and leave my magical aspirations behind.
There was always the Cavalry. Or maybe I could make it as a knight.
Rather than heading to the library to spend the next six hours studying until my eyes bled, I followed the training field to the hill to where I had sulked so many months ago after my mid-year duel with Priscilla.
It was time to take a deep breath.
The exams were held in a tower to the west of the Academy, just overlooking the cliffs. I’d never been there. The building was disconnected from the rest of the castle's structure, and it stood a good hundred feet taller than any of the roofs surrounding it.
Each toll of the Academy bell and another first-year walked toward that gray beacon. I already knew from Ella, I was to be one of the last for the day. I stayed on the hilltop, watching the small green specks of first-years enter and exit the tower doors at the edge of the grounds.
By the time the late afternoon sun set, my turn was fast approaching. I left my post and started the descent. When I reached the tower's base, my count rang. It was time.
Too late to turn back now.
For ten minutes, I climbed the stairs with increasing apprehension. The inside of the passage was dark, and I had to be careful where I stepped. A small flicker of light from the wall sconces was all I had to guide me in the shadowy nook.
After five more minutes, I heard the shutting of a door above and stepped aside to let the returning first-year pass. It was only after the footsteps froze that I bothered to look up and see whom it was.
Darren stood two steps above me, shadows covering all but the barest lines of his face.
My pulse leaped against my throat. Why is he just standing there?
“Excuse me.” Darren made way to pass, averting his gaze.
I started to step to the side, and then I stopped myself. The trials were almost over and we’d never cross paths again. This was my one opportunity to ask.
“Why did you do it?”
After everything, it shouldn't have mattered. It didn't, really, but I needed to hear the words. Because as long as we kept this distance, as long as he avoided me, there would always be some small part of me wondering why. Because of that kiss. That stupid, irresponsible kiss, and the way I had felt because of it.
Darren’s jaw locked. “You were always so eager to think the worst of me. Would it really make a difference what I told you now?”
No, it wouldn't. “I suppose not.” I glanced away, furious that I wanted his answer anyway. Let it go, Ryiah. I clenched my fists, wishing I could make myself as cold and unfeeling as him.
The movement didn’t go unnoticed.
Darren studied me in the shadowy passage, his head crooked to the side instead of continuing on his way.
The warning bell chimed, and the prince’s shoulders grew tense.
“The judges won't take kindly to you being late, especially after yesterday's trial. You should hurry.”
My laugh was incredulous. “You and I both know my fate has already been sealed.”
“You shouldn't discount yourself, Ryiah. The trials aren’t over yet.”
I stiffened. No. He couldn’t say something like that now, not acting like he actually cared about my welfare after everything that
he’d done. Darren was an enigma, and I was done trying to unravel him. “You are truly something. Still playing at those mind games after everything!”
“Mind games?” Darren’s expression turned incredulous. “Are you really so daft?”
“Not enough to fall for false flattery twice.”
“For the love of—” Darren slammed his fist against the wall and glared down at me. “I guess I should congratulate myself,” he declared, “on helping the world's biggest idiot—”
“Helping?” I spat. “Helping? What part of your actions was helping?” I climbed the remaining steps so that he couldn’t escape. “Was it when you were sabotaging me in the mountains? Insulting me at every turn? Or when you kissed me just so you could play me for a fool in front of your friends?” I grabbed the non-heir's collar, forcing him to meet my cold, angry eyes. “Really, Darren, which one of those should I be thanking you for?”
Our faces were inches apart, and Darren's livid gaze was burning me alive. “You really want the truth?” he snarled.
I refused to cower.
“Priscilla, Jake, and William were going to go after you whether I led the hazing or not.” He watched the full impact of his words hit me like a ton of bricks. “They found out that you and Ella were sabotaging their hazing, and they were going to try and have you expelled. Eve overheard Priscilla and she told me because she knew I…” Darren faltered and then continued on as if nothing had happened. “She knew it would work.”
What had they been planning? “I could have handled them on my own.”
“Maybe—” His eyes flashed. “—but I thought if I avoided you, Priscilla would drop the vendetta on her own and I could talk the boys around.” He’d tried to stop them? “But it didn’t work, so I talked them around to the pig’s blood instead.”
“You betrayed my trust.” I choked. “You humiliated me after we… after you…” No, I couldn’t say it.
“Everyone knows hazing is a tradition. It’s practically a rite of passage.”
“I didn’t care about the hazing!”
“I knew you could take care of yourself.” Darren still didn’t understand why I was so upset. “Plenty of Jerar's mages have gone through the same.”
“I didn’t care about the act. I cared that you played a part in it!”
A long silence followed my confession. I couldn’t believe I’d spoken the words aloud.
Finally, he replied. “I tried to stop you, Ryiah. That night, I changed my mind.”
What?
Darren had to be lying. He’s just trying to manipulate me again.
What had he said right before I went outside that door? No, Ryiah, don't—
And then to Priscilla when she was about to attack me: “She's not worth it.”
Had he been protecting me? He couldn't have… But then why had he only deflected my casting when I tried to attack him? And why had he ceased brawling with my brother the second Alex had mentioned my name? And stopped his own brother that first day of trials after the encounter with Ella?
Millions of questions were clouding my head, and none of them were making any sense. Or rather they were, I just wasn't sure I wanted to trust their answers.
“Still can't make up your mind about me, can you?”
I glanced up and Darren's garnet eyes met mine. He seemed tired, and I wondered if it was because of me, or the trial he had just come from.
“You are probably wondering why I went through the trouble.”
I held my breath.
“I've asked myself the same question many times, and I’ve come to the conclusion that somewhere along the lines of this year, I went mad.” The prince gave me a wry smile. “Luckily for me, it seems to only pertain to things that involve you.”
“But…” I couldn't think, and my heart was beating impossibly fast. I wanted to believe him. I didn’t understand why I needed to trust him. I didn’t understand why I even cared.
But there was still something missing, something pressing at the back of my mind that I couldn’t forget. Something important that could void all the explanations he had just put forward.
And then I remembered.
“What about Ella and your brother?” The words tumbled from my lips. “What was your excuse then?”
Darren stopped smiling. “My brother and Ella?”
“When she was twelve, you left her alone with him. You saw what he was doing and just left—”
His expression was dark. “That’s what she's been thinking all these years?” He glowered. “Why don't you try asking your friend whose magic saved her?”
“But she said it was hers.”
The prince made a frustrated sound and started to push past me.
“Darren, wait!” I didn't know what to think, but I knew I didn't want to leave us like this again. If it were true and he had been helping me all this time, if he had helped Ella too…
Darren turned to face me. There was an emotion I couldn’t read in his unfathomable gaze. “You need to decide whether I am the evil tyrant in your head, or a friend, Ryiah. I can’t make that decision for you. It’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself.”
I looked away. Trust and Darren? The two were opposite ends of a spectrum.
The bell tolled loudly, and I jumped as I realized I was now late to my test.
What does trust matter? I wondered. I wouldn’t be around long enough to find out anyway.
I reached out for Darren's arm before he could start his descent.
My breath caught as my fingers brushed his skin.
“If we were friends—” I swallowed. “—what would you say to me right now?”
He didn’t hesitate. “I would tell you that you could still win this.”
“Thank you.” I released his wrist and took a step back.
Something odd flashed across the non-heir's face. “Good luck, Ryiah.”
I gave Darren the barest of nods and then proceeded up the stairs. It took me until I reached the door to realize I was smiling.
15
“First-year, you are late.”
My cheeks burned as I bowed my head, nervously peeking out from under my bangs at the panel of disgruntled judges before me.
There, just as in my dream, sat Master Barclae and the Three Colored Robes. This was the first time I was really able to get a good look at the three mages who ruled the Council of Magic. Each of them looked almost unearthly as the gold trim of their robes shimmered brilliantly against the rays of a fading sun.
The Black Mage of Combat had been the one to address me. His head was shaven, and there were two golden hoops dangling from his right ear. He had burnt amber skin and piercing green eyes, the kind that seemed like they could see straight through to your soul. He was younger than I expected, no more than thirty-five years.
“What is your name, child?”
The second person to speak was the wearer of the red robe, a beautiful blonde woman with violet eyes and full red lips. She was older than the Black Mage, but not by much.
“Ryiah.”
“Ryiah,” said the third, a formidable older man with long brown locks and startling yellow eyes. The Green Mage of Alchemy. “You are the talk of the Academy. Never in the history of the first-year trials has a student inflicted so much damage to our sacred Academy.”
I swallowed uncomfortably and Master Barclae shifted in his seat. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
All eyes narrowed, and I willed myself to speak, despite the wave of nausea that was fast approaching. This would be my one chance to explain in my own words.
“I never meant to destroy that building. I only went after the armory to try to get a weapon when my regular stamina ran out.” I made myself hold their gaze despite all instinct to look away. “When Ray stopped me, I still wanted to win… I knew pain casting was unstable, and I wouldn't be able to control the magic if I tried, but I had no stamina left to cast anything else.
“If I didn't try, I would’v
e had to admit defeat and… and I couldn't do that.” My tone was pleading. “If you want something as badly as I do, you can't give up. I'm sure each of you have had a moment like that, where you had to make a choice, and you chose your robe, no matter the consequences—”
“You impaled yourself on a sword,” Master Barclae said dryly.
“I would do it again, a thousand times over if I thought it would help—so long as I didn’t harm Ray.” I couldn't help feeling less confident than my words. “It was the only way I could access my magic.” I thought of all the stories in history. “Better to lose a limb than a battle.”
“You are a fool.” The Red Mage was unimpressed. “It wasn't a limb you almost lost. It was your life and the life of that boy you were with. And you still lost the duel.”
“A powerful fool,” the Black Mage corrected, smiling behind the palm of his hand. “She’s lowborn and fairly untrained, but her potential could rival the prince’s someday. She’s a pain caster too. Those are rare.”
“But you heard her.” The Red Mage was appalled. “She’ll kill herself the first chance she gets.”
“At least she takes risks. She’s willing to die for her cause.”
“Well, the trials aren’t the right cause.”
“True enough.”
The Three glanced to Master Barclae, and he cleared his throat. “Very well. We shall now begin the second portion of your trials, Ryiah. You will have a half hour to address three scenarios, all concerning the art of strategy in Combat…”
I RETURNED to my barracks much later that evening feeling confident, confused, half sick and half mad. The trial had only lasted a half hour, but the questions the judges had asked left me reeling in self-doubt. Were my answers good enough? I thought they had. I'd cited several battles for each scenario they’d given me. I'd weighed the resources, the weather, the landscape, and the politics of each situation to provide the best approach.
I'd considered all the right questions: Was it a full-scale invasion, or was it better just to send a small regiment to conduct the mission? Was it on our homeland, or in a neighboring country?
For each question they asked, I'd had a million queries of my own. I'd been desperate to show the product of my endless nights in the library, and even more frantic to prove I was more than the reckless first-year they had seen during the first half of my trials.
The Black Mage: Complete Series Page 23