Mark of the Banished

by Salandra Wolfe

  Ryland made no effort to reply, and he stumbled out of the house, making sure to keep the precious liquid that could prolong Fayre’s life close at hand.

  He would do anything it took to see Fayre healed, but he wasn’t sure if Devin’s advice was sound. He had always believed that diplomacy would take a person further than violence would. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, and he hadn’t eaten anything either. His brain was refusing to work as it should.

  But what if they won’t listen to diplomacy? Am I willing to go that far in order to save the woman I love?

  Ryland didn’t have an answer.

  Caspian was in a meeting. Again.

  Though Fayre had revived somewhat after Ryland had given her Devin’s potion, her color and breathing improving, she still couldn’t speak much, and it was obvious she was barely holding on to life. Time was running out, and Ryland couldn’t wait for the prince.

  Ryland sent a messenger into the meeting, hoping the prince would end it early and agree to speak with him, but after three minutes, the prince had not yet emerged or summoned him. He stood at the giant double doors that led into the throne room, his foot tapping and his jaw clenched. Maybe the prince deemed his meeting more important than Ryland’s fiancé. The guards at either side of the door looked at him strangely, but he didn’t care.

  Suddenly, the doors opened and many finely dressed old men filed out of the room. Most looked annoyed and were talking to each other in hushed voices. Ryland concluded that Caspian must have cut the meeting with the council off early, which hadn’t pleased them. Ryland watched them file past, all of them seeming impatient. The council was full of old men who advised the king, but they had no real purpose. He wasn’t sure why Caspian kept them around.

  When all of the council members had exited, Ryland rushed in.

  Caspian was sitting on his throne, the dark circles under his eyes and his mused hair speaking to his exhaustion. He gave a tired smile to Ryland when he saw him and stood, coming down from the dais to stop in front of him. He glanced at the guards closing the door and waved his hand. “You may leave,” Caspian said, his voice firm, an obvious command. The guards exchanged wary looks before slipping out the door and closing it fully.

  “You look awful,” Ryland blurted out once they were alone, then winced. “Sorry, Your Majesty.” His frazzled brain wasn’t filtering his thoughts before they came out of his mouth like it normally did.

  Caspian shook his head, his lips twisting upward. “No offense taken. I do look awful. Running a kingdom is hard work.” He looked Ryland up and down. “But you appear to be doing even more poorly.”

  Ryland nodded absently, his mind already off the topic and back on Fayre. His heart skipped a beat, and his fists clenched tightly as he mentally prepared his words.

  The prince studied Ryland with curiosity. “Now, what is so important you had to interrupt my meeting?” There was an easiness in his voice as he spoke, and it let Ryland know he wasn’t really annoyed.

  “Devin knows what disease Fayre has—it’s called the wasting. There is a cure, but it’s extremely expensive. The only way for it to work is if I become king, so I came here to ask if you could give the kingship to me to save her life. Please. After, I’ll give it back. You have my word.” The words rushed out of Ryland, and he paused to take a deep breath. He rubbed a hand across his tired eyes, his vision blurring from fatigue. For a moment, he swayed in place, about to collapse, but through sheer force of will, he kept himself upright, awaiting the prince’s response.

  “Devin says, huh?” Caspian’s brow furrowed, and a dark, unreadable expression came to his face.

  Ryland’s heart fell. He wasn’t sure what he had thought was going to happen after his request, but he definitely wasn’t expecting the prince to deny him, not really. Not when Fayre’s life was in danger. Anger welled up in his heart, but he pushed it down. He hasn’t said no yet, he thought desperately. He licked his lips, the world around him spinning even faster. He gritted his teeth, determined to stand his ground against the exhaustion.

  “What do you mean, you have to become king? I can simply give you the money you need.” Caspian slowly paced up the dais, setting himself calmly onto the ornate throne. He crossed his legs and steepled his fingers together under his nose, peering down at Ryland.

  Ryland scowled at the show of power, his fist clenching at his sides. The exhaustion made everything feel heavy, and he gasped faintly. “There is also magic involved. The cure has to be given to Fayre by a royal who loves her. My current connection with the throne isn’t enough. To save her, I need to be king.”

  Caspian’s jaw clenched. “I could give the cure to Fayre. I love all of my subjects.”

  Ryland shook his head, growling in frustration. Why was the prince being so dense? They didn’t have much time to save Fayre, and Caspian was wasting what time they did have with stupid questions. “It’s not the same. It has to be me.” Ryland glanced down at his shaking hands before turning his desperate eyes to Caspian, who was now staring at the ground, deep in thought.

  After a long pause, Caspian raised his eyes from the floor slowly to meet Ryland’s gaze. “I’m sorry, my friend. I wish I could give you what you want, but I can’t. I must do what is best for my kingdom. You will never sit on my father’s throne.”

  He continued talking, saying something about Devin and the kingdom and duty, but Ryland didn’t hear any of it. A rushing sound filled his ears, and the anger in his heart swelled to an all-consuming level. Blackness crept from the corners of his vision, growing until all Ryland could see was complete darkness.

  He wishes to kill Fayre. He wishes to kill all the family I have left! Ryland clenched his teeth and his fist, and he could feel the sharp prick of his nails as they dug into his skin. He’s being selfish. He wants the kingdom for his own purposes. Such a man is not fit to be king! He gasped for air, steeling himself against the overload of emotion. As if in answer, a coldness streaked through his heart, deadening his feelings.

  A plan swirled around in Ryland’s mind, and he grasped onto it. Devin has friends. I have friends. They will fight for me. I do not wish to take this path, but I will if I have to. Fighting is the only answer. Ryland’s thoughts sped up, going so fast he could barely keep up with them. I will do as Devin said. If anyone stands in the way of me saving Fayre, they will be destroyed! By now, the thoughts were screaming inside his head. With Devin by my side, a wizard, we will take over this kingdom and reclaim what has been taken from me.

  “Ryland?” the prince’s voice broke through his thoughts, and suddenly Ryland could see again. Caspian stared at Ryland with a confused and concerned expression on his face. He reached out tentatively to Ryland, stepping down from the dais. “Are you okay, my friend? Did you hear anything I just said?” He looked friendly, but Ryland didn’t miss the hand he kept hovering above the ever-present sword at his side.

  How dare he pretend concern for my sake! He only wishes to destroy me.

  “I. Am. Not. Your. Friend!” Ryland yelled in Caspian’s face. He shoved him—hard—on the last word. Caspian stumbled backward, looking stricken. “The next time we meet,” Ryland snarled at the prince’s confused face, “will be on the battlefield.”

  Ryland strode from the room, ignoring the startled looks the guards gave him as he barged through the great double doors. He had to get Fayre back to his house. He wouldn’t let her remain in the hands of his greatest enemy.

  “Caspian,” Ryland said in disdain. “To think I ever thought that he or his family was my ally.”

  Suddenly, Devin appeared beside him in the hall. “Did I just see what I think I saw?”

  Ryland pushed away the disturbing thought that his cousin was spying on him and nodded, keeping up his rapid pace down the hall, his exhaustion forgotten in his anger. “Yes. I need you to gather any forces you can so we can fight. I will be king for Fayre.”

  Devin jogged to keep up with Ryland, t
he widest grin Ryland had ever seen appearing on his face.

  “With pleasure, Your Majesty.” Devin disappeared, and Ryland fought off the uneasiness that welled up inside him at the gleeful expression on Devin’s face. He had seemed almost . . . happy Ryland was going to fight for the kingship.

  He’s only happy that I finally see what he’s seen all along, that the prince is my mortal enemy, Ryland reasoned. He pushed away any negative thoughts about Devin. He needed to trust his allies. They could not be divided if they were to stand against Caspian.

  Ryland wondered how long it was going to take for Devin to gather his resources. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long. There was no time to waste with Fayre dying from some crazy, magical disease.

  Ryland found three servant boys in his travels down the halls, and he commanded two to help him carry Fayre from her room and the other to prepare a carriage. As sick as she was, Ryland didn’t want to move her, but he couldn’t leave her behind enemy lines, and he would never be able to return to the castle to get her once Caspian told everyone Ryland was going to fight for the crown.

  Of course, the boy is so stupid he might not realize that’s what I meant, Ryland thought scathingly. He could feel an ache growing between his eyes, and he paused for a moment to press on the spot, momentarily relieving the pain.

  On the carriage ride over to Ryland’s mansion, he tried to keep Fayre’s body still despite the bumping of the carriage over rocks and ruts. Every so often she let out a little moan or cry of pain, and each time this happened the wound in his heart cut deeper and deeper.

  This is all your fault, Caspian, Ryland fumed, staring down at Fayre’s pale face as she let out another yelp. Her suffering would almost be at an end if not for you. His heart stuttered for a moment at the intensity of his anger.

  Finally, they reached Ryland’s house, and he picked Fayre up and dismissed the driver of the carriage. Inside, Ryland laid Fayre on the bed in her room, then backed slowly out the door, shutting it with a soft thump. He rang the bell in the hallway, relieved when a chambermaid appeared. Apparently, he hadn’t dismissed all his staff as he’d thought.

  “Stay with Fayre,” he ordered.

  He ran through the house, rummaging through his father’s records, finding maps of the kingdom and the palace itself. He laid them out on the main table in the dining room and began writing ideas for an attack. He couldn’t really plan without knowing what his forces were, but he could come up with a few good ideas. He licked his lips, trying to estimate how many of the nobles and commoners would fight for him.

  At least half, he thought. My men will also fight. For the first time, he wished that each lord maintained their own large army, but each was permitted only a few dozen soldiers. Algar was a peaceful kingdom, and the king’s army had always been enough to keep the people that way—there was no need for individual nobles to have more men than was necessary to protect their immediate estates. Ryland had always supported the idea that the king’s army should be the strongest of all the nobles, but now . . .

  Ryland glanced at the clock, impatient for Devin to appear so they could plan together. “Come on, Cousin,” Ryland whispered, “we have a kingdom to take over.”

  Caspian bit his lip, worry clawing its way violently up his throat. Lord Ryland had stormed out of the throne room only a few minutes prior, and already Caspian was starting to regret his hasty words. He had known Ryland wouldn’t like the rejection of his request, but he hadn’t known how explosively the man would react.

  The prince went over the conversation in his head. Ryland had asked for the throne and explained why he thought he needed it. Caspian had said no, then explained to him why he couldn’t trust the wizard. It had been a long shot to try and convince Ryland to see Devin as a threat, but Caspian had felt he needed to at least try.

  He punched his right hand into his palm, grinding his teeth together. I should’ve had the guards ready to arrest him when he exited, he thought. After ruling the kingdom for over a month, the people should trust him enough to allow him to incarcerate Ryland on a charge of treason. If he had done so, they could’ve gone after the wizard next, and Algar would be safe once more.

  But Caspian had been too nice. Ryland wasn’t a bad person; he was simply misled. Was it fair to imprison him before he had actually done anything treasonous?

  What does it matter? he thought, mentally kicking himself. It’s my duty to protect my people, and if Ryland starts a civil war, I will have failed. Again.

  Caspian’s stared at the ceiling as he considered Ryland’s words. Had the wizard really told Ryland that he needed to be a king in order for the cure to work? That was utterly ridiculous. Then again, Caspian didn’t know how magic really worked. No one did. Except Devin.

  Caspian paced back and forth in the throne room. When Ryland’s parents had died, Caspian knew it couldn’t have been an accident, and he had braced himself for the worst. The wizard! he thought, furious now. He has something to do with all these sudden tragedies. First Ryland’s parents, and now his fiancé. He must be responsible. He wasn’t sure what the wizard was doing, but it wasn’t good.

  His thought scattered as someone ran into the room, panting hard. It was his head of the military, Jason of the house Bikar. “He took her, milord,” Jason gasped out. “He took Lady Fayre.”

  Caspian nodded, his heart heavy. If Ryland had taken Fayre with him, it meant his threat to fight had been a serious one.

  Oh, Ryland, Caspian thought in despair. He didn’t want to fight, especially when he believed that deep down Ryland was a good person being used by his cousin. But now, the wizard had forced Caspian’s hand. He had to take action. It would be irresponsible not to.

  “Lock down the castle,” Caspian commanded, drawing himself upward and steeling himself for the inevitable. “Put out the word that we need more soldiers.”

  “Sire?” Jason asked. “What battle are we fighting?”

  “Not just a battle, Jason,” Caspian corrected. “This is a war. A war for the crown. And it is one we must not lose.”

  Chapter Ten

  Devin hurried down the stairs to the dark basement in his house. He was elated; he was ecstatic; he was overjoyed! It had taken much work and years of planning, but finally, finally, Ryland was truly serious about taking over the kingdom. Devin mentally patted himself on the back for his good work. There had been a few setbacks, but he had managed to push Ryland into wanting the kingdom. And now that Ryland wanted it, Devin would make sure he achieved his wish. Devin didn’t have to pretend nonchalance anymore. With Ryland preoccupied with Fayre, the lord was under his complete control. Devin rolled his eyes. All love did was weaken a man.

  He took a deep breath as he stopped in the center of his basement. He had to calm himself. Patience, he thought. Though Ryland was intent on Fayre, if Devin rushed things or acted too much like his true self, Ryland might begin to suspect him, and he had to have his cousin’s full trust in order for his plan to work. His heart rate slowed to an acceptable level, and he quickly went over his plan. The next step would be to call his true family to help Ryland win the throne.

  Devin flung his arms out, his brow furrowed with concentration as his eyes closed. A circle of fire engraved itself around him, then spiraled inward with many symbols Devin recognized as an ancient, long-forgotten language. A summoning circle. A few members of his family were close by, ready for action, but many were far from Algar, and Devin would have to call them from around the world. But if he called, they would come.

  Devin raised his hands higher and began to chant in his Muguntish, his birth language. The sound of the words was chilling, and the temperature in the room dropped significantly. The flames turned green, and a fierce wind blew through the room, whipping the folds of Devin’s cloak. The wind looked as if it would put out the flames, or feed them, but the fire seemed to ignore the winds, not even flickering in acknowledgment as they cast an eerie glow on the walls.

  Power from the circle swelled a
round him, and he pushed it even harder, giving it his own power. His eyelids flew open, revealing only darkness, like pools of tar. Shadows wisped from the corners of his eyes, then spread across his face, leaving dark splotches like a mask. The shadows still flowed from his eyes, but they went nowhere, disappearing as soon as they traveled a short distance from his face. Devin’s teeth grew, his canines elongating and sharpening until their tips peaked out from below his top lip. His hair darkened, and shadows attached themselves to his clothing, giving him ethereal armor that twisted and swirled in never-ending cycles.

  His cloak took on the appearance of fire, turning orange and red, the edges becoming ragged as it danced in a nonexistent wind. Red gloves and boots with ancient gold symbols covering them appeared on his hands and feet, and shadows began leaking from them as well, swirling into the air. Devin consider summoning his weapons, but willed them to stay away, realizing they would not be received well. Finally, his ears sharpened, and their edges became a deep red, like small flames sticking up from his hair.

  Devin felt his power and strength growing as he changed into his true form, and he emptied more of his power, propelling the extents of the summoning circle outward until it reached everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He felt it when his people noticed the summons.

  They began to arrive.

  His people—his family—were the vilest creatures that had ever existed, and he was the most human among them. Though, like him, they could appear human, they made no use of the skill now. They appeared one after another, in different shapes and sizes, but all black shadows, a smudge on reality. Soon, everyone was there, and about twenty shadow people surrounded Devin. He let the circle subside, and soon the only light in the room was the light the shadows emitted, a strange dark light that glowed black.