The Black Mage: Complete Series

by Rachel E. Carter

  The prince’s expression faltered as a new plea slipped out, desperate. “I can’t be friends with you, Ryiah. Not when I—”

  “Love me? You’re not in love with me. It’s just an infatuation. It’ll pass.”

  “Is that what I am to you?” His jaw clenched. “An infatuation?”

  “Every girl wants a prince. Every prince wants the one girl he can’t have. It’s hardly a surprise.”

  Was I made of ice?

  “So this is it?” he ground out. “You’re not even going to try and fight for us?”

  “There’s nothing to fight for.” The second those words slipped out was the same moment an unforgivable hate crossed his face.

  I walked away, but not before he uttered those awful words. “If there’s nothing to fight for, then I suppose we were never friends.”

  12

  “Alex,” I chided, “you have to let me finish packing. Byron will have a fit if I am late.”

  My brother shrugged. “Byron would have a fit either way.”

  True enough. I groaned and looked to Ella. “How am I going to survive this?”

  “You are going to focus on the privilege and ignore the prince at all costs.”

  “He’s a lout, and if he so much as looks at you—” Ella clamped a hand over my brother before he could finish his threat. Alex hadn’t taken the solstice or the prince’s behavior well.

  Then again, who had? My overprotective brother wanted nothing better than to punch the prince in his throat. Ian had attacked him outside the barracks. I couldn’t say the thought hadn’t crossed my mind—when I wasn’t fantasizing other things I refused to admit.

  “He won’t,” I said quickly. My heart stopped, and I prayed that they wouldn’t notice the way my hands had suddenly stilled. I hadn’t told any of them that I’d pulled the prince aside the night before and finally told him this was done.

  I’d hurt Ian and Darren. I’d hurt myself, and gods help me, I’d lost both my friends. My silly sentiments were ruining my apprenticeship. I was going to tear out my heart and feed it to the wolves.

  I finished loading the last of my gear into my satchel and hauled the leather straps onto my shoulder.

  When I arrived, a little flushed from my run to the docks, I saw that the rest of the ship’s crew was already busy at work loading the last of the luggage onto the ship. Darren stood near the back, helping a large man with black braids carry a particularly heavy crate onto the vessel. He looked up when I arrived, but as soon as his eyes met mine, he looked away immediately—but not before I caught a flash of something cold. My heart skipped a beat and my throat became sand, coarse and dry and in desperate need of something I didn’t have. He hates me.

  “Are you the other one?” A loud voice broke my reverie. I turned to see a woman in her early thirties watching me expectantly. Her skin was well weathered and her brown hair fell to her ears, cut in a similar fashion to most men in the regiments. Her eyes were a vivid green, much brighter than Ian’s, and she had toned arms I envied—the best yet I had seen on a female mage.

  Arms, that no matter how I tried, I would never be able to replicate.

  “Y-yes,” I stammered. I held out my hand. “I’m Ryiah.”

  “Well, Ryiah, I’m Andy.”

  “Andy?” I repeated, unsure if I had heard her correctly.

  “My parents had the audacity to name me Cassandra, but you will never, ever address me as such unless you want to be made to walk the plank.” She grinned in good humor and the laugh lines under her eyes crinkled. “So, Ryiah, you must be feeling pretty special—you and that prince are only third-years and the two of you were the ones to win your master and Chen’s competition.”

  I blush. “Well, I’m not sure if that’s an accurate representation—”

  She cut me off with a hard slap to the back, one that made me wince and cough at the same time. “Come now, no one with modesty ends up in Combat. Take the praise and embrace it!” She pointed to the bag on my shoulder. “You’d do best to give that to Cethan—he’s loading the rest of the supplies with the prince right now. As soon as the two of you are done, come find me and I can introduce the both of you to our leader, Mira.”

  I squinted at her through the morning sun. “Isn’t Commander Chen leading the assignment?”

  The tall woman snorted. “Him? No, this trip is for Combat mages only. Well, except for Flint, he is… well, I’m not sure exactly, but I do know he is Caltothian and the king sent him specifically for this mission.”

  “Andy, stop chatting with the apprentice and get back to work!”

  Andy winked at me. “The dragon lady is calling. Best do what she says!” She sauntered off to the front of the ship’s hull with a cheerful yet sarcastic response to her leader.

  Awkwardly, I set down my pack and went to help Darren and the large man, Cethan, with the rest of the supplies.

  “Hello,” I greeted the mage. “I’m Ryiah.”

  The sullen-faced man looked up, irritated, and then gave me a list. “You can start with those crates there. Make sure each has the items I asked for. If we run low on supplies during the trip, we will cut your rations before anyone else, so keep a keen lookout for anything missing.”

  I set to work counting in silence, trying not to jostle Darren as we took turns pulling the crates open side by side.

  It was extremely awkward.

  The only time the prince acknowledged my presence was when my elbow accidentally grazed his arm and he snapped, “Watch it!” He said it with so much underlying anger that Cethan shot the prince a wary look.

  “S-sorry,” I mumbled. For everything. He must have heard the strange pitch in my voice because the prince finally looked at me.

  “You have nothing to apologize for.” His tone said differently. Then, in his most polite, un-Darren-like voice, he added, “Can you pass that crate to your left? I think I miscounted the fish.”

  ALMOST TWO WEEKS of cold sweats, nausea, and vomiting. For some, seasickness ends after the first couple of days; for me, it lasted the entire trip.

  The lead mage, Mira, noticed right away. One of the first things she told me was that the commander and Byron had made a mistake sending her someone “so useless at sea.”

  She continued to make similar comments for days.

  The night before we reached Dastan Cove, I spent most of the evening clutching the side rails, trying to rid the prickling torment of waves flooding my gut. My skin was pale and clammy. I prayed that the sensation would go away as soon as we took to shore. The night air was cold and biting, and constant blasts sent me quivering from head to toe. I was determined to prove my worth once we hit land.

  I was sick of the sea. But most importantly, I was sick of being sick. I hated feeling useless and having the rest of the crew eye me with distaste, like they couldn’t believe I was the one who ranked second. They didn’t question Darren’s presence. He had been a great help casting wind to speed our travel. He took turns navigating and preparing the meals. I spent the entire time clutching the railing.

  I couldn’t even keep the meals down.

  I swallowed hard and cursed myself for never considering seasickness a possibility when I had signed up for a month-long deployment.

  “Ryiah, Mira needs you to come back to the meeting.”

  I glanced up to see Darren watching me with an inscrutable expression.

  I sighed and released the rail, trying my hardest to look anywhere but his face. Things had been cold, awkward, and distant between us—almost exactly how they had been when we first arrived in Port Langli eight months back. Of course, now I knew the real reason why.

  “I’m coming.” At that very moment, I was forced to clutch my stomach and heave into the ocean below.

  “She said that you should bring a bucket.”

  I faltered and my eyes fell to his retreating form in anger and self-pity. He had said it so carelessly, like I was nothing, like I was no one. It shouldn’t hurt me. Nothing about Darren
should hurt me. I shouldn’t allow myself to feel jealous of this wall he had built up between us… but rational thinking had never played its course wisely where the prince was concerned.

  I’d lost two friends, and I had no one but myself to blame.

  I grabbed a pail and tried to remind myself I had no business wishing Darren would pine for me. I joined the rest of the crew below deck and tried not to let my expression waver as five sets of eyes fell on my haggard face and the bucket in hand.

  “So glad you could finally join us, Apprentice.” Our leader’s voice sounded anything but.

  I took a seat silently beside Andy; the mage had the ghost of a smile on her lips.

  Everyone else was glaring.

  Mira, Andy had told me, was the sister of the Black Mage, Marius. But that was where the connection ended. The brother and sister were as different as night and day. According to Andy, this was because Mira was determined to distance herself from her older sibling as much as possible. She suspected it was because Mira resented his status: “We Combat mages are a competitive bunch, so it’s natural, if we aren’t the best, jealousy occurs, especially in families like theirs.”

  “As I was just saying, Apprentice, there can be no mistakes in tomorrow’s mission. You and the prince will have somewhat a minor role, but it is nonetheless vital that you two stick to your assignment and not allow emotion—or pity—to sway your actions.” Our leader was alluding to last night’s revelation that our prestigious mission was, in fact, a kidnapping.

  For the past week and a half, we’d been memorizing a detailed map of Caltoth’s northeastern coast, learning the expected route we would take to arrive in Dastan Cove unnoticed. We had sailed just north of it, approximately a two-day’s trek from the seafaring harbor. Flint, our mysterious traveling companion, knew the territory well.

  From what I had gathered, he had served as a sentry there before coming to Jerar. He was to be our guide. The three mages would do most of the “blood work” while Darren and I acted as scouts.

  At first I’d been uncomfortable. I had prepared for battle, spying on the enemy, stealing an important document or two. Never had I ever contemplated taking a young woman, not much older than me, hostage. She wasn’t a mage, not even a fighter, merely the young wife of the baron in charge of the city. Mira and Flint wouldn’t even tell us why the woman was important, only that they were under Crown orders to “acquire her.”

  But then Mira had mentioned the word “rebels,” and I’d stopped worrying about the woman’s life. That attack in the Red Desert’s salt mines would stay with me forever, and I had only to remember the haunted night with the pyres to understand how important our mission really was. Jerar couldn’t afford a war. If whatever this girl knew would help save innocent lives, it was well worth it.

  IT TOOK me all of the first and second day stumbling across a freezing, pine-infested mountainside to get some semblance of normalcy to my gait. Darren kept shooting me impatient glances. I was slowing our progress down, and we were supposed to be the scouting party.

  Eventually, we made it out of the dense forest and up a cold, snowcapped peak that Flint claimed would provide easy vantage for spotting sentries. “They will not have a full guard this far north, but you still need to be vigilant. They might have changed their routine in the year since I left. They think I’m dead, but Caltothians are overly-cautious in everything.”

  Trying not to wheeze too heavily, I joined Darren along the ledge and did my best to scan the land below, willing the feeling of unsteady ground to pass. Never again would I volunteer to board a ship. All my life I had lived relatively sickness-free. The gods were clearly enjoying a good joke now that I had spent almost two weeks living out the worst humiliation—and symptoms—of my life.

  “Take this.” Darren held out his water skin, his eyes locked on the city below us.

  I took a swig and choked on its contents. I’d been expecting water, not the sweet taste of peppermint.

  “It’s for the nausea.”

  I took another swallow, and then another, letting the cold brew settle into my stomach. It brought back memories of my childhood. I was well aware of its benefits, but I was surprised the prince had cared enough to offer it. I’d almost drunk the entire contents before I realized I should’ve saved some for Darren.

  “Thanks.” I handed it back to him.

  The prince waved the skin away. “That one was for you.”

  I almost dropped it. “Me?”

  “The mint was at the edge of the marsh where we made camp last night. I thought it might help.”

  I didn’t know what to say. After two weeks of silence and short, clipped sentences, this was a miracle.

  “Darren—”

  “Don’t.” His words were tired. “You made the right decision, Ryiah. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  But I didn’t want to. I bit my tongue and tried to focus on the brightly lit port just past the rocky shores below us. The coastline in Caltoth was a much different kind of port than the one we had left.

  The city’s harbor was twice the size of Langli. I could immediately understand why Darren called it the wealthiest nation. Most of the buildings in Jerar consisted of timber frames with moderately thatched roofs; below, all I saw was brick: house after house and shop after shop of brick walls and heavy, curtained windows—a luxury that only a king’s palace or lord’s castle could usually afford. Wide cobblestone paths marked every direction of the streets, and torches were displayed by giant pillars at every corner.

  The entire harbor was guarded by as many soldiers as the entire citizenship of Langli.

  I drew a sharp intake of breath and Darren noticed. “It’s a very important post,” he explained. “This is the harbor they ship all of their exports, including the rubies, from. My father said one third of Caltoth’s militia guards it—and most of them aren’t visible. The ones we see are the ones they want us to see.” He paused then asked, “How many?”

  “How many what?”

  “Sentries.” Darren gave me a sideways look. “Mira will cut our throats if we give her the wrong numbers.”

  I made a face. “Not yours.”

  “Well, I still don’t want to spend all night freezing while you gawk.”

  I almost smiled. For a moment, it felt like things were back to the way they used to be between us, before that night at the ball, before the awkwardness at the last ascension. A friendship that was slightly insulting, but with enough undisguised humor to let me know it was at least partially in jest.

  After a half hour of counting, and then another hour of matching up Flint’s landmarks to their actual positions, the two of us confirmed that the guards’ formation hadn’t changed. We hurried as quickly and quietly as we could back to camp.

  Andy looked happy to see us, but everyone else looked cold and impatient.

  “Well?” Mira demanded. The mage’s yellow eyes glinted like a cat’s in the tiny orange light she was casting. Real fires were out of the question. We couldn’t leave any trace of our presence for a patrol to find.

  Shadows danced along the strong lines of the prince’s face. “Everything is as Flint said.”

  “Good. Then we set out at first light.”

  I STRAIGHTENED the maid’s dress and brushed my sweating palms against its clean underskirt, reciting Mira’s instructions one final time. Even though I’d just eaten, my stomach was twisting and turning and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The sun was about to set. It was time to go.

  If I failed in any part of my assignment, the mission would fail.

  I was sure Mira would’ve given my task to someone else if she could have, but the task was best given to a woman who could act the part of a lady’s maid. Mira was too famous as the sister of Jerar’s Black Mage. Andy was far too imposing in size. I was their best bet.

  I stepped out into the packed village square and made my way to Baron Cyr’s castle. It shone like a gray beacon in mist. There were two guards who watched
my progress as I drew close. I handed the one nearest my forged papers and then entered the great doors of the baron’s hall with a deep breath and a steady gait.

  Trying to appear hurried—as if I’d already been assigned some household chore instead of wandering—I scurried past various servants to the second floor and located Lady Sybil’s empty room, just as Flint’s instructions directed. I snagged a vase of flowers before knocking once, and then I barreled in and quickly deposited them on the dresser.

  Everything was going according to plan.

  I scanned the walls for a tapestry. I found it at the corner of the lady’s bedpost and then felt underneath for a hidden latch. I twisted and a door swung back, leading into a dark passage that would lead to an unguarded cellar in the back of the castle.

  When the door was successfully jammed with a bit of leftover candle wax from the lady’s nightstand, I took a moment to admire my work. To the untrained eye, it would be easy to miss the slight line in the otherwise untouched wall and its secret door behind. It was what we were counting on.

  I stepped out on the balcony and then pushed my way past two guards, the ladies-in-waiting, and their mistress. The lady was awaiting her husband’s return from sea at the balcony, like she did every evening while the baron was away in his travels.

  It wasn’t dark yet, but I feigned interest in lighting a torch anyway. The other servants would assume I was a bit anxious and overzealous.

  Really, I was lighting the signal fire to the others below.

  “Miss, miss, what are you doing? The lady does not light that unless her husband is returning!” A lady-in-waiting quickly doused the flame.

  Panic reached out and gripped my throat like an invisible hand. The fire had only lasted for a minute. What if the others missed it? Flint had never told us that the torch was ceremonial. Mira was counting on me. They all were.

  “Surely the lady does not wish to eat in the dark?” I gave a saccharine smile, trying not to grate my teeth.

  The maid gave me an odd look. “She won’t—her meal is almost done. She and the little lady Tamora are always done before dark.”