“Not a dance?”
“Did Ella keep you from eating until you fit in this corset?” I pointed to the tables. “Let’s beat the first-years to that, and then we can dance the night away.”
“I hope it’s not just dancing the night away.” His expression was shameless. “Byron’s on his third glass of wine.”
“Ian!”
“Let’s get you some food.” He steered me toward the other side of the room. “You’ll have plenty of time to say my name like that later.”
I choked so hard I almost fainted in my dress.
After swallowing as many tea cakes as the bones in my corset would allow, Ian and I made quick work of the floor, laughing and dancing with my brother and best friend. It was such a change from the year before when none of us were talking. I couldn’t help but thank the gods that was over. Tomorrow we’d be heading back out to Langli, and I couldn’t wait to see what we’d learn next.
Gods, we were a year and a half into the apprenticeship. It didn’t seem real. The first-year had seemed so much longer.
A couple more dances and I could no longer breathe. Blasted corset and all those tea cakes. I made my excuse and then left Ian to dance with Lynn while I retreated to the corner of the room.
First-years and apprentices were everywhere. The whole place was chaos.
I snagged a glass of wine and leaned against a pillar in an alcove away from the rest.
“Have you retired for the evening?”
My hand jerked and part of my wine spilled onto the floor, narrowly avoiding the hem of my dress.
“Darren.” Why was my whole face burning? I’d barely had a sip.
“So you do remember who I am.” He leaned against the pillar opposite me with a sigh. “And here I could have sworn you’d forgotten in your efforts to avoid me.”
“Why are you talking to me?” I flit my hand around the room. “You’ve got a whole room of loyal subjects to entertain you in my stead.”
“Because I’ve been a terrible person since we arrived in Langli, and you deserve a better friend.”
My eyes snapped to his.
“Yes.” His mouth twisted. “Two apologies in the course of a year. What is this world coming to?”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I’d rather not say.” His eyes hadn’t left my face, and there was something about the way he was staring that sent a bolt of heat right down to the pit of my stomach. The tea cakes were instantly forgotten.
I gulped, and the wine in my hand was forgotten. I couldn’t exchange our usual banter when he had me in knots. I started toward the crowd, but Darren’s hand shot out to grab my wrist.
“Dance with me, Ryiah. As friends.”
“I...” I froze, looking to Ian across the room. The fourth-year was busy laughing with our friends. He’d just danced with Lynn; surely this wouldn’t be any different.
It’s just a dance.
I swallowed. I couldn’t even lie to myself.
“Please.”
I met his gaze. That was a mistake. The second I did, I couldn’t look away.
I wanted very much to say no…
But there was another part of me that wanted to say yes. It knew better, of course, but it was screaming too loudly to care. Yes, yes, yes. It was an idiotic, foolish notion, but it wouldn’t go away.
You are going to regret this, the sane part of me warned.
Darren led me to the side of the ballroom with my hand in the nook of his arm. People automatically parted in his wake, but I barely noticed. My attention was on him and his hand on my waist as he reached up with the other to put my hand on his shoulder.
“What dance is this?” I mumbled. The music hadn’t started, but I knew instinctively that Ella hadn’t taught me the steps to the one we were about to begin.
“Don’t worry.” He smiled. “I won’t mind if you step on my feet.”
All at once the music began, and I didn’t bother to wonder at how the musicians had timed their play to begin exactly when he moved my arm. I didn’t stop to think about how everyone else was quiet, how the room seemed to glow in a heady golden light. All I was aware of was the prince’s palm on the small of my back and the way my skin burned hot beneath the dress as we moved.
Darren’s second hand held mine in the air, and as we traveled across the floor, it seemed so perfect, so easy for him to lead me through the series of fast and slow steps. And it felt right. It felt impossibly, ridiculously right.
I stumbled and tripped, but Darren caught me and turned it into a low, swooping dip. “I take back what I said to you about that dress in Mahj,” he muttered. “This one’s better.”
My whole face was aflame. “Y-you didn’t say t-that when Ella a-asked.”
Darren brought me higher and held me upright, his chest rising and falling in time with my own. “That’s because I couldn’t stop staring, Ryiah.”
Like now? My eyes caught on Darren’s and neither of us looked away. Gods, this dance was a terrible idea.
“Why?” I couldn’t stop myself. The words spilled right out of my mouth. “Why did you go out of your way to push me away? To hurt me after everything you said in the desert? We were friends, Darren.” Why this dance? Why now?
It mattered to me so much, and I couldn’t take it back. We’d been rivals and friends and everything between, but this last year felt like something else. I was sick of these games. I needed to know what had changed.
His muscles tensed and the dance was finished. “Some things are better left unsaid.”
“Wait—”
Darren released me, and I caught the scent wafting from his shirt—a mixture of pine and cloves that smelled so much like my home in Demsh’aa, it brought nostalgia to my chest. But it wasn’t just his smell; as soon as he released me, I felt cold and numb and… empty.
“Goodnight, Ryiah.”
I watched Darren walk away, cutting through the crowd to Priscilla who stood at its edge, glaring. I continued to stare, oblivious, until Ian found me.
“Are you feeling all right?” the fourth-year asked anxiously. “You look flushed, Ryiah. Perhaps it’s too hot in here…”
But what I was feeling had nothing to do with the room. The temperature could not make me feel like I was suffocating—like something was dying, like something was shattering, breaking into a million tiny pieces as Priscilla took the prince’s hand with her own.
Ian pressed his palm to my forehead. “You should lie down. Would you like me to walk you to your chambers?”
“No.” Did I really feel this empty all the time? Or was it just that Darren had made me feel whole? What was it that I had felt when he held me? Safe. Whole. Happy. But right now, I couldn’t remember any of those things with Ian.
What is wrong with me?
I swallowed as a hard lump lodged in the base of my throat. “You should stay and enjoy the rest of the evening with Alex and Ella.”
“Are you sure?” A flash of confusion dashed across Ian’s features, but it was gone before I could place it.
“I’m sure.”
I walked up the atrium steps in a haze, hardly conscious of Sjeka’s beautiful sea as I passed the looming window to the second spiraling stairs of the apprentices’ quarters.
As I continued the walk down the long, dark passage, I forced myself to replay the dance in my head. It’s an illusion. It’s not real. What I feel is not real.
But it had felt real, and I’d felt it before, but never with Ian.
But it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t—
“Ryiah!”
I spun around, and my heart leaped out of my chest.
Darren. He was running through the hall, toward me, seemingly uncaring as he knocked over an unlit sconce to the floor. I opened my mouth to tell him to leave or stay or go or any of those things, but before I could get a word out, he grabbed me and shoved me against the wall.
Then he kissed me.
Wildly, possessively, with a
hunger that stole the will from my limbs. He kept me up against the wall, kissing me like he couldn’t fight any longer, like he was fighting himself and losing to a fervor that would burn him alive.
A loud gasp escaped my lips, and he deepened the assault. His hands slid into my hair, and I felt myself crumble, sparks shooting across my scalp and my skin and my heart until I could hear nothing but the hammering of my pulse.
“I shouldn’t have danced with you.” His voice was hoarse, ragged. He looked at me and his eyes were two black stars, pulling me in and drowning me. “I knew I shouldn’t, and I asked you anyway.”
My lips parted before I even realized what was happening.
What am I doing?
“No.” I shoved the prince away. How could I? What was I thinking? A wave of shame rolled through me. “Darren, this is wrong.”
“You can’t fight this, Ryiah.” He was breathing hard, just like me. “Any more than I can.” The third part was so quiet I almost missed it. “And believe me, I tried.”
I tried to take a step back and realized he was still pinning me to the wall.
“Let me go.”
“Is that what you really want?” His eyes were unreadable.
No. “Yes,” was what I heard myself say.
Darren leaned in close, his mouth brushing my ear. “You’re a terrible liar, love.” Then he kissed me again. Slowly. Once. Twice. Soft moth’s wing kisses that made my knees buckle and collapse right out from under me.
And then I was home.
Everything smelled of pine and cloves and him. There was a steady burn rising in me that I couldn’t ignore. My whole body was in flames. I was losing myself in what it felt like to be near him. This was what I had wanted. This was what I was missing. This was what I needed.
“Ryiah.” My name was barely a whisper from his lips. “Ryiah, I have wanted to do this for so long.”
You aren’t the only one. Before I could stop myself, I pulled him back to me. My lips hovered above his for just a second before I lost control. And then I kissed him. I kissed him in a way I had never kissed Ian: hungry, hot, angry, desperate, confused, in hate, in madness. I kissed him with everything I had, everything I hadn’t wanted to let myself feel.
And then that name came roaring back. Ian.
Oh, gods, Ian.
I threw all my weight into my arms and shoved the prince away.
The moment was shattered in less than a second.
“Ian.” I croaked the fourth-year’s name and looked up at the prince. “Priscilla.” What kind of terrible people were we?
“Ryiah, look at me.”
Ian.
Darren touched my face, and I turned away, hating myself.
“Don’t do this.”
“This was a mistake,” I heard myself say. “I’m not—you aren’t yourself. We—”
“Ryiah.” Darren’s eyes burned crimson. “I’m not sorry.”
“But what about your betrothal? What about Priscilla?”
Silence.
“Are you going to leave her, Darren? Are you going to throw away an engagement for a lowborn like me?”
His eyes flashed. “It’s not that simple. My father—”
“I’m not good enough to marry, but I’m good enough for this?” Sudden fury made it easier to focus. Gods, I’d just destroyed a relationship for another reckless kiss with a cold, unfeeling prince.
Hadn’t I learned my lesson once already?
For the first time, he couldn’t meet my gaze. “It’s not what I want, Ryiah.”
And just like that, I understood all the fights, all the reasons he’d kept his distance in the last year. It was the same reason I’d said yes to Ian that night in Mahj.
There was no happy ending for us. We were two rolling clouds set on a storm, and our first casualty was a fourth-year whose only fault was trusting a girl who lied to herself.
“It’s not what I wanted either.”
“Ryiah, please—”
It hurt to say the words aloud. They cracked and rippled against my tongue. “I’m sorry.” And I was. I was so sorry, because he was everything I wanted and everything I could never have.
Gods, he returned my feelings, and I could feel it in that kiss, in this space between us. There was something undeniable between us. It’d been there all along. Like drawn to like, I supposed.
But I would never be a mistress. I would never settle for being the girl he kissed in shadows while he held another girl’s hand in front of Jerar. I wasn’t a dirty secret, no matter how I wished to be.
I walked away.
And I didn’t look back.
There was something breaking in my chest; I prayed it wasn’t my heart.
I FOUND the fourth-year and pulled him to the dark corridor, away from the rest of the crowd. I told him everything, unable to meet his eyes. It didn’t take long to accept the truth of my confession—the tousled hair, the smeared rouge, even the frayed ends on the back of my dress were all evidence of my betrayal.
The pain in his face was worse than anything he could shout. A part of me wished he would.
“You never loved me, did you? Not even a little?”
Gods, I’d wanted to, but I could only wring my hands. I deserved every hateful thing he thought of me. I already thought them of myself.
“Why him?” The words were angry and bitter. Betrayed. “After a year, he’s only hurt you, again and again.”
“I wanted it to be you.” More than you’ll ever know. “For what it’s worth, I know you’re the better choice.”
“You will never be good enough.” His voice was breaking. “Not for Darren. He’ll never acknowledge you so long as he’s the Crown.”
I was never good enough for you.
“I’m not picking anyone, Ian.” There was a tightness in my throat. I needed to pick myself. The boy I wanted could never offer me the ending I deserved. The boy who loved me deserved a girl who would put him first, not one lying to keep away thoughts of the first.
“Not the prince?”
“There’s no future with him.” All that kiss had done was tell me I wasn’t ready to fall in love. My life was already chaos, and I didn’t need to chase after something I could never keep.
Ian worked his jaw, and his eyes were pained. “For what it’s worth, I would have made you happy, Ryiah.”
“I know.” Gods, if I’d only fallen for the boy in front of me instead. “But I would never make you happy.” Not like this. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” His shoulders were rigid. “I… I can’t be friends… Not anymore.” Even when he was angry, he was still polite.
It only made me feel worse.
His answer was expected. It was deserved. But it still felt like a blade to the ribs.
I missed him already.
11
“Concentrate, apprentices. If I have to say it one more time, I’m going to have all of you take turns serving as your partner’s mark for this exercise.”
Do not look at him...
A surge of heat sprung from my hands, and I sent my casting crashing into the sky. The bolt shimmered in the air, a brilliant flash of gold, and then it was gone. My jaw dropped. Lightning. I had just cast lightning.
“Ry,” Eve said to my left, impressed. “How did you do that?”
Several others had turned to stare, and I felt myself blushing under their scrutiny. The younger apprentices had been trying for weeks to successfully cast the most infamous of all weather magic… I had been the first one of my year to successfully manage it.
I’d beaten the prince.
“I… I don’t know,” I stammered. I tried again, holding my breath and summoning the same projection as before. Nothing.
“Weather castings feed off emotions.” Master Byron’s lecture was dry. “They are a charge to heighten one’s magic. Whatever Ryiah was thinking about before her casting clearly had the intensity she needed. Lightning requires focus, but it channels emotions with it… Apprenti
ce, perhaps you’d like to share what you were thinking of before?” His words had a bitter edge, and I could tell he was disappointed his favorite hadn’t been the first third-year to grasp the casting.
“I…” Darren’s lips on mine, a dark hallway with just the two of us. No, there was no way I was going to tell the class about that. I was trying hard enough to deny it to myself. “I don’t remember.”
“The charge to produce lightning requires a very intense emotion, one that would not be forgotten so easily.” Byron was scowling. “I highly doubt you forgot it.”
Why? Why did I always have bad timing? Why can’t I be good at the one thing that demands focus, not fevered daydreams in the middle of a lesson? Embarrassment crept up the back of my neck, and I willed myself to pretend I was anywhere else, somewhere quiet and alone where the master of Combat couldn’t draw attention to my very bright red face.
“Perhaps it’s something Ryiah would prefer to keep private.” My gaze shot to Darren as he added, “Something she’d rather not describe…”
My whole face burned. When I finally looked, I could see Ian scowling at the prince who had turned back to the sky with a not-so-innocent expression.
A second later, there was a bright flash of yellow and a stark white display as lightning crashed in the air above. Only this time it hadn’t come from me.
“Well done, Darren!” Master Byron was full of praise for the prince. “What did you use to cast it?”
Darren’s eyes found mine. “Something I don’t regret.”
There was a tightening, something pulling at my lungs. I made myself look away.
“D-don’t regret?” Byron was lost, unsure how to respond to Darren’s vague answer. The rest of the faction, all of whom had witnessed Darren’s and my fights for years, had a pretty good idea. Priscilla was glaring daggers at me. I didn’t have the slightest doubt that if she tried to cast lightning from her emotions now, she would be successful. That seemed the last thing on the girl’s mind, however, as she stormed out of practice, not caring that we hadn’t been formally dismissed.
The master of Combat didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy studying the prince and me with a sour expression.
The Black Mage: Complete Series Page 37