The Black Mage: Complete Series

by Rachel E. Carter

I had to convince the Pythian ambassador not to honor the alliance with Jerar. He’d seen me try to save his niece, he’d respected my negotiations—he’d have to convince King Joren.

  And then, then I had to find a way to stop the king of Jerar.

  My fist closed around the dagger. The casting had appeared at a moment’s notice.

  I could kill him now. Darren wouldn’t be able to stop me. He wouldn’t be on his guard. He wouldn’t be able to save his brother…

  A rage boiled in the pit of my stomach and spewed to the surface, deadly tendrils of anger piercing at my ribs. My fist clenched the edge of the blade so tightly that blood had started to slip down my wrist. Small splatters of red dropped against the skirts of my dress.

  It would be so easy. I could do it now.

  But I couldn’t. For the same reason Blayne couldn’t kill me.

  Darren.

  Darren didn’t know about any of this. He didn’t know what his brother had done. He didn’t know what Blayne was capable of. He didn’t know his brother had set fire to the world just so he could watch it burn.

  All he knew was he loved him. That he’d watched his older brother suffer blow after blow, and that he’d been the one to save him. King Lucius had raised Darren as Blayne’s right hand.

  As twisted as the king might’ve been, he’d been wise beyond his years. The best way to preserve the throne was to encourage unswerving loyalty in two brothers, and what better way to unite them than terror and hate? Lucius had been grooming a tyrant and his right hand

  I’d begged and pleaded for my brother, hoping beyond hope Blayne wasn’t his father.

  Blayne was crueler.

  I should’ve been hoping it was his father, and not Blayne, staring back.

  THE LADIES-IN-WAITING RETURNED for finishing touches before the ceremony began. Pollina was aghast to see the fresh stains on my skirts and my fist.

  I told them I fell. That the bones of the corset had been too tight. After all, they’d found me on the floor. The tears in my eyes? Just from losing my breath.

  I was nothing more than an anxious girl before she married the boy of her dreams.

  Even though inside I was nothing but screams.

  You will lose him.

  As soon as the thought entered my mind, I knew it was true.

  I couldn’t tell him. Even if Darren believed me, he would insist on confronting his brother, and his brother was king. Blayne would have me beheaded at a moment’s notice. I might’ve stood a chance against a small collective of mages, but an army?

  And what proof did I have? Nothing. I had no papers, no witness, nothing but a memory of a little girl with a slip of yellow ribbon in her hair.

  Darren had never seen that little girl in the stands. He’d only seen the ambassador.

  Everything else was a miles-long conclusion that would sound like the ranting of a madwoman determined to clear her brother’s name.

  And Blayne was his brother. Darren wouldn’t be able to keep a secret or turn against him. Even when I’d believed Derrick capable of putting thousands of lives at risk, I’d still let him escape. I’d still chosen my brother.

  And Darren would choose Blayne.

  I would lose Darren. By keeping these secrets, by turning a traitor, by ultimately betraying the Crown… I would lose. But sometimes the sacrifice is worth the cost.

  My cost would be Darren.

  I would keep him safe. From the rebels. From Blayne. From myself—except for my lies. And when this was all over, when we had his brother in chains and the country was safe from his family’s tyrannous plague, then I would fall to my hands and knees, and I would beg his forgiveness.

  And maybe, someday, we could be that boy and girl he talked about and we would leave this all behind.

  I ENTERED THE CEREMONIAL CHAMBER, and the sun’s rays caught on my dress.

  A glow of butter-yellow against scarlet-red locks and steel-gray eyes.

  Down the row I walked, head held high as I strode across to the priest.

  My eyes were locked on the tapestry behind him. It depicted a king in a gilded chair, a crown atop his head and a hematite pendant at his throat. With a man in ceremonial black robes at his right. His Black Mage.

  The king and his right hand. Blayne and Darren.

  My slippers glided along the soft carpet lining the walk, and it was only as I reached the end that I let myself look to my left.

  Darren stood there, his face a wash of emotion. Ink-black, jaw-length locks and garnet eyes—everything I’d ever loved. In his robe. Just like the tapestry.

  He held a hand out as I climbed to the top of the dais.

  The priest garbled on, almost incoherent in his speech. And then he stopped. He dipped his thumb into a bowl of crimson wine and pressed once along my forehead and then once along the prince’s.

  He issued a prayer.

  And my eyes slid to the king waiting below, a cruel smile painting his mouth, his soul stained red with the blood of hundreds, every life lost in the name of the Crown.

  I wasn’t sure how I’d missed it before. It was the same smile I’d witnessed countless times over the last year, only this time I could see it for what it was.

  Evil. Corruption. Greed.

  “Do you, Prince Darren, First Prince to Jerar and Black Mage to the Crown, take the Lady Mage Ryiah of Demsh’aa as your wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward and keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

  “I do.” Darren’s voice rang out across the hall. His whisper after was enough to bring me back and break me. “Always.”

  “And do you, Lady Mage Ryiah of Demsh’aa, take Prince Darren, First Prince to Jerar and Black Mage to the Crown, as your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward and keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

  My hands trembled as I made myself look left and into the eyes of the boy I would betray.

  “I do.”

  He’s the Black Mage and she’s the traitor to the Crown.

  Ryiah’s world was shattered the night she discovered King Blayne’s nefarious plans. Now, she has to betray the one she loves most in order to save the realm from war. Torn between love and duty, Ry finds herself on a perilous mission to help the rebels and convince the kingdom of Pythus not to honor its pact with the corrupt king of Jerar—all the while deceiving the most powerful mage in the realm, the very man sworn to protect the Crown and hunt the rebels at all costs: her husband.

  She’s one step ahead, but sooner or later the curtain will fall.

  Sooner or later, she’ll have to fight.

  Witness the epic conclusion of The Black Mage series, and see just how far one girl will go to save her kingdom and the boy she loves—even when that boy has become the enemy.

  1

  It was supposed to be the best day of my life.

  The noise was deafening. Cheers, clapping and thunderous applause, even hysterical weeping came from Jerar’s most privileged families as they shared in a moment that they believed would save them all from the Caltothians’ tyrannous plague.

  If only they knew it was all a lie.

  I forced my lips into a shaky smile, my heart fluttering like a thousand wings against my throat.

  The prince’s eyes met mine across the small podium we were standing on. For a moment, that was all I needed to hold on, and I was able to exhale. The corner of his eyes crinkled as he took in the expression on my face. I’m sure he imagined it was due to the hematite crown the priest had just placed upon my head.

  Darren had no reason to question my fear.

  The prince reached out to pull me forward by the nook of my arm, slowly, until there was no space left to cross. His eyes held mine as his other hand took my trembling chin and tilted it up.

  My skin burned under the pads of his callused fingers. I didn’t have a choice. I caught fire every time.

  His breath was warm as he leaned in so that his lips brushed my ear. “And now to
kiss my beautiful bride.”

  Darren’s mouth found mine, tasting of hot cinnamon and cloves, and for a moment… for a moment, I forgot. And the girl let herself melt into her prince’s embrace; she kissed him back, letting that elation rise up in her chest, her cheeks flushing crimson as he dipped her low and proceeded to kiss her so thoroughly, a second applause rang out from the crowd.

  And she was happy. In this beautiful, perfect moment, she was soaring.

  The girl had her happily ever after. She had the boy she loved, and it was all she would ever need.

  Hundreds of petals rained down from above.

  “Long live the Crown!”

  And the moment their voices rang out, that girl disappeared. Elation was met with shame. Guilt. Self-hate and flagellation. Shards of glass twisted in my gut, and I jerked back from the kiss, nearly stumbling down the steps in shame.

  I couldn’t pretend. Not when I knew our future was a tangle of lies, and that he would never look at me the same when he discovered the truth.

  “Careful, dear sister…” Icy fingers wrapped around my wrist. They were all that kept me from plummeting into the crowd below.

  It took everything I had not to react, to remain silent and still when every part of me was writhing in a storm cloud of red. It was him.

  The king of Jerar. The young boy whose tragedy had made him the worst man of all.

  My hands trembled and the white-hot rage boiled, threatening to sputter out. In another second, I wouldn’t be able to stop—

  “Ryiah?” Darren’s voice caught me just in time.

  The king of Jerar let out a laugh as he handed me back. I was still shaking, my pulse thundering in my ears. “A bit of shock. She just became a princess of Jerar, brother. What else would you expect?”

  I barely felt Darren’s hand slip around my waist as he helped me down the final step. “I know it’s a bit much,” he whispered. His words called me back, twisting and weaving their way across the chains that had taken hold of my lungs. “I’m sorry.”

  I wanted to tell him I was too, but my tongue was too heavy to lift.

  All I could see was my little brother’s lifeless body sprawled out against the marble tile and the look on Alex’s face when I told him Derrick was dead.

  The priest’s loud declaration brought me back to the present: “And now to present the Crown Prince and Princess of Jerar. Together, for the first time, as husband and wife.”

  I made myself breathe. And swallow. And then I made myself move, one foot, then the other, as the prince and I traversed the great hall.

  It was supposed to be a beautiful fairy tale.

  But there would be no happily ever after.

  AS THE CROWN’S carriage paraded down the streets of Devon, I did my best to mirror Darren and Blayne’s gestures with my own. Courtier smiles and nods to all. It was an acknowledgment and a promise. I saw it in the hundreds of eager faces shoved into every alley and shop, waving hands and throwing seeds and chanting blessings at every corner we passed. Their hope was contagious. Even the ones hiding behind their dirty windowpanes, I could see it shining there too, past tight lines of worry and fear. It was a great beacon driving them to look and stare.

  They believed the Crown would save them all.

  I couldn’t consider them fools. I had shared the same dream just hours before.

  And now your life will never be the same.

  Darren caught my frown and squeezed my hand, mistaking the reason for my discontent. “I’m sure your parents would be here if they could.”

  I glanced down to where his fingers interlocked with mine and swallowed. I needed to say something. The longer I remained silent, the more his worry would grow.

  I wet my lips and cleared my throat. “It would have been too painful.” It didn’t matter that it was their only daughter’s wedding—and to a crown prince of Jerar. After Derrick’s death, they refused to set foot in the capital ever again—not after their youngest had been strung up from the palace rafters, branded a traitor to the world.

  My parents might not have blamed me with their words, but I’d seen it in their eyes. Their child was gone, and I should’ve found a way to save him.

  They weren’t wrong.

  But how was I to know? Not even Derrick had guessed how far the Crown’s treachery had gone.

  I’d been so busy defending the boy I loved that I’d forgotten to look to his brother. And why would I? Blayne had played his part well, so well that after years of cruelty, he had still managed to convince me there was something of the boy he used to be. I had believed him to be somewhat good. A man whose horrible past had hardened his edges, but still left him capable of kindness. Benevolence. Regret. Better than his tyrant of a father.

  That had been my biggest mistake of all. The two children might have been raised in darkness, but only one was capable of light.

  As I adjusted my seat, the yellow silk ruffles of my dress shifted, and I prayed Darren didn’t notice the small splotches of red staining their base—my blood from just an hour before.

  “We can visit them on our way, if you’d like.”

  I swallowed, my mouth as dry as sand. “That would be nice.” As soon as the weeklong celebrations were over, the two of us would be tasked with hunting the rebels. I wasn’t surprised by Darren’s decision to go north; he’d been discussing it for weeks.

  Marius, the former Black Mage, had already scoured the south during the last ten years of his reign. It had made sense at the time. All the attacks and sabotage had taken place in Jerar’s southernmost towns—primarily the Red Desert, Port Cyri, and the salt mines in Mahj, wherever a shipment was due. Why wouldn’t the rebels have been stationed nearby?

  Unfortunately, the new Black Mage had other theories as to why the rebels had never been found—theories that would eventually lead to Ferren’s Keep and my brother and friends.

  To the rebels.

  Panic squeezed my lungs as I took a shaky breath.

  It was up to me to lead Darren astray. I knew full well this act would cost me my prince in the end.

  It was the only way. I had seen the bond between brothers. Even now, the two beautiful boys cracked jokes during our procession across the city, neither quite aware that the girl beside them was bleeding out from the inside, screaming for help.

  Gods, I had lived out my own choice just two months before. Given the choice between Derrick and what was right… I had chosen my brother, not that it had mattered in the end. I had acted too late, and that was still before I had realized the nefarious ploy of the king, before I had realized Derrick had been telling the truth all along.

  Back then I had believed my little brother to be a traitor to the Crown. I had known full well that, should he escape with the information he had stolen, hundreds of lives would be the debt to pay, possibly—definitely—more. And yet I had been willing to risk them in the end, anything to save my brother from a horrible fate at the gallows, and I knew Darren would do the same.

  It wouldn’t be my husband’s fault if he made the same mistake for Blayne. Darren’s father had groomed the second-born son as his brother’s protector through years of abuse, and when one spent so many years protecting someone they deemed a victim, it became impossible to see them any other way. Even after everything Blayne had done—assaulting my best friend and tormenting me all throughout the apprenticeship when he thought I was just some pitiful lowborn that had caught his brother’s eye—I had still pitied the heir.

  Besides, there were some choices one should never have to make, and I never wanted to give Darren that choice. I didn’t want to let him choose wrong. I didn’t care how selfish that made me. If he went to his brother first, if he gave Blayne a chance to explain, the evil king would have the whole world up in flames before Darren had a chance to recoup his mistake. Two of the country’s most powerful mages were nothing against a king’s army. Everything would burn and shatter, and every one of the rebels would be put to death at the crack of dawn.
>
  Not me, of course. Blayne was too shrewd, too calculating. He disliked me from the start, and yet he had made me a part of his plans. As sick and twisted as the king was, he cared for his brother and wanted his support. Until Blayne could turn Darren against me, the king would have me rotting in a cell. And once he’d succeeded, then he’d take my life.

  And then the king would go to war—a pointless, costly war that his father had been staging for countless years, all part of an elaborate scheme to portray Jerar as the victim and Caltoth as the aggressor. The other two countries in our nation’s Great Compromise would break with King Horrace, and Jerar would become the country with the biggest army, and the wealthiest.

  No, I couldn’t tell Darren, not until I had undisputable proof and the other countries’ support. Because right now, all I had was the ranting of a madwoman.

  Darren had never seen the little girl in the stands of the Candidacy. He wouldn’t be able to piece together her face with the noblewoman and her daughter we’d stolen away in a mission to Caltoth so many years before. The blackmail of Lord Tyrus and the murders during the Victors’ Ceremony were all parts of the same ploy to frame King Horrace and win the support of two skeptical nations.

  Darren would only see a lowborn who had never liked his family, a girl who had lost her youngest brother and was desperate to clear his name.

  And even if he saw past all of that, I couldn’t risk the chance he’d choose wrong.

  I had chosen wrong just two months before. What was to stop Darren from doing the same? There were too many lives at risk. This was bigger than the both of us. This was the world.

  And if he never forgave me for my breach of trust… well, that was my cross to bear.

  An invisible hand squeezed my chest. I knew I was making the right choice, but it felt wrong. Two hours into our new marriage and already I was plotting to betray my husband.

  “The two of you should make an effort to question the villagers while you are in Demsh’aa.” Blayne leaned back in his seat with a lazy smirk. He had been listening in on our conversation.