Last Stand: The Black Mage Book 4

by Carter, Rachel E.

  “Who’s to know he didn’t recruit the whole family? Or did everyone forget the year Ryiah served at the keep alongside both?”

  “I never met the man!” I spat. “He wasn’t even on my squad!”

  “Once again, a convenience!” the woman barked. “You are so full of excuses, and I, for one, am tired—”

  “Enough.”

  The room fell to silence as Blayne shot up in his chair, his heavy cloak snapping against the legs of his chair. His expression had shot from amusement to distaste in the blink of an eye. Now his lips were thin and his words were cold.

  “I am done listening to this never-ending spat. Mira, Ryiah has more than proven her loyalty to the Crown.”

  “But—”

  “Not another word on the subject, not unless you wish to be replaced.”

  Mira’s face darkened and her eyes sparked in outrage. When she looked at me, it was enough to peel flesh.

  Why must you continue to bait her? I ground my teeth together. Mira was the chink in my armor, and I needed to hold my tongue. Blayne’s reprimand would only make her obsession worse.

  “And, Ryiah—”

  My gaze went to the young king.

  “I am tired of finding you in the middle of these investigations. Do us both a favor and make sure there is not another.” Blayne heaved an irritated sigh. “Darren, what is being done about this runaway criminal? I assume you returned to keep watch over my court.”

  “I have the rest of our patrol combing the countryside. I’d like to dispatch some of Audric’s men and send an envoy to Marius as well. Believe me”—Darren’s tone was ominous—“that rebel’s freedom will not last.”

  “Whatever it takes.” Blayne’s drawl was hard to miss. “After all this effort, I’d hate to find an angry band of vigilantes when we are already engaged in war.”

  “The rebel was injured, barely fit for travel, and he made his escape during the middle of winter.” I made my scoff mocking. “The traitor is more likely to die from black frost than anything else.”

  “The true threat is here in the palace.” Darren studied his brother’s regiment with a frown. “What are the rest of you doing to root out the traitors?”

  Mira balked. “We had a thorough investigation of the entire staff after your envoy arrived. I’ve seen to every one of them myself. Your rebel must have been lying.”

  “Or perhaps you aren’t doing your job, mage.” Darren’s retort was biting. “This is your king’s life at stake. And you have already proven that your loyalty to the Crown doesn’t amount to much. Or did you forget you were so willing to sacrifice a prince of Jerar in Dastan’s Cove?”

  “I…” Mira paled and I saw her eyes dart to Blayne and then jump to the floor. I knew it! “T-that wasn’t my call, Y-Your Highness.”

  The king cleared his throat, and I knew it wasn’t my imagination when Blayne’s expression turned a bit too confused as he addressed the accusation. “What is this?”

  “Port Langli’s regiment was deployed during my apprenticeship. Mira was more than ready to leave Ryiah and me behind under the guise that her mission was more important.” Darren frowned. “Father couldn’t even recall the prisoner when I asked him about it a year later.”

  My gaze was locked on the king. Three of us knew the truth, and I wondered if Blayne would betray his loyal guard to appease his brother’s suspicion.

  Blayne tapped against his wrist, his fingers increasingly erratic.

  Oh villainous king, how will you free yourself from this lie? I sucked in a breath, waiting.

  “I overheard Lucius’s orders. Mira is innocent.”

  “What?”

  Blayne folded his arms and stood a bit straighter. “Father wanted that Caltothian wench at all costs, brother. Even if it meant your life.”

  “Y-you heard him?” Darren had gone as pale as ash. My fingers shot to his, and he jerked back, away from his brother and the room.

  “Father wanted you to take part in the mission. Who do you think suggested the contest for a Combat apprentice in the first place?” Blayne’s explanation was heartless. “You always were the best. He didn’t want anything to happen, but if it did…”

  “A prince’s life is grounds for war.” The words fell from the Black Mage’s lips without emotion, hollow and hoarse.

  “They were on orders to leave you behind.”

  “Why?” Darren’s voice broke. “Why would he—”

  “Caltoth is merciless. You know that. Father was willing to sacrifice whatever it took.” The king plunged his lie like a dagger to the heart, twisting and turning until all that was left were his brother’s shattered remains. “You might have been the favorite, Darren, but a second-born son doesn’t amount to much. You were more valuable as a tool of war.”

  Darren’s eyes fell shut as his breathing stilled. I saw that broken prince on the cliff. I saw the boy ready to slip away, running from a monster I couldn’t fight. I stood there watching Blayne, hating him so much and wondering how I could just stand there as the traitorous wife, biding my time when there was someone laced with so much poison he was destroying the very air we breathed.

  Even though Blayne was lying about the king’s orders, his explanation rang true. Everything the king said was the justification he had used to secure his own reign. Blayne might love his brother, but he was willing to sacrifice him for the cause.

  And yet here I was, willing to do—in some ways—exactly the same.

  I wondered if the attack during our time at the keep had been a coincidence after all.

  What kind of person was willing to sacrifice the one person they loved?

  I am not Blayne. My hands locked to fists. Blayne was much more than his abusive father. His motive was still war, greed, and control.

  My motive was everyone else.

  I couldn’t give in now. This wasn’t about my guilty conscience or the villain in the room or the boy who would shatter when it all came to light.

  To be the hero, I had to be the villain… I wondered if, at some point, the tyrant before me had considered himself the same.

  I wanted an answer.

  I wanted the gods to reach out and tell me the path to take. I wanted them to tell me why it had to be me, him, and his brother. I wanted to know why this was our story instead of another’s.

  I prayed to the gods that night.

  They never answered.

  * * *

  Over breakfast the next morning, Darren was granted permission to question the palace staff. Blayne made it clear he viewed the practice a waste of his Black Mage’s time, but he’d relented all the same.

  The catch, of course, was that Mira would take part in his discourse and lead the supposed investigation. “Since she already interrogated all of our staff, she will be invaluable in your search.”

  I suspected the gesture was in large part due to other secrets the king didn’t want to come to light by questioning the servants who were involved in his nefarious dealings. They hid bits and pieces of information that could point out inconsistencies in his tales and might lead the Black Mage to question the past, which was just what I needed to collect.

  Meanwhile, I’d been granted a temporary elevation in the palace regiment, serving Mira’s role until she and the prince were done with their false hunt.

  I couldn’t have asked for better fortune if I tried. Mira was busy trailing Darren across the palace, and that left me free to roam the remainder, relatively unwatched. If anyone asked, I was checking up on the rest of the guard, the same as Mira was known to do when she was leading the role. Blayne even gave me an approving nod on the third night when he asked what I thought of the palace patrols.

  I made it a point to praise the changes in place, insisting there was no way a rebel could ever breach their new defense. That part was true. The regiment had taken on stricter measures and the men were held to a higher standard after Derrick. Shifts were shorter. Previous patrols containing one guard had been replaced with t
wo. More mages had been transferred in from the Crown’s Army.

  Now there were just as many Combat mages as knights. Soldiers previously serving the courtyard guard had been transferred out so that mages could take their place. Not one of the new recruits had less than ten years serving major ports or cities across Jerar.

  Every single member of the palace’s reformed regiment was the best of their year.

  All of the changes would have made any commander proud. The castle was a fortified stronghold. I hadn’t paid attention after the incident with Derrick, but I noticed now. Darren and Mira had been busy while I was holed up in mourning, and I was struck by how fortunate the rebels were that I had come across the truth after all. The castle would be impossible to access now.

  Not without an all-out war. And though the rebels’ number was far greater than the rest of the country believed, it still wasn’t enough. We had three thousand or so north, thanks to the keep and some of the soldiers serving bordering villages, and a couple hundred hidden among the main outposts of the south. Even with the backing of six thousand from the Caltothian army, our number was still a far cry from the twenty thousand of the Crown’s Army, the fifteen hundred of the King’s Regiment, and all the major city regiments. The rebels were mostly made up of lowborn soldiers, which meant they were severely lacking in mages and knights, something the Crown was not.

  I just need to find proof. But every stone I turned came up clean. As that first week drew to a close, the panic set in. There were six more days before we set forth to Langli to greet the Pythian warships, and I needed something of value. I needed to find it now. Nyx’s words played over and over as the hours ticked by: “The Pythians might not be swayed by justice. Promise them whatever it takes.”

  What could I promise that Blayne could not? The only thing I had to offer was evidence of his deceit, and the chance of finding such proof was growing slim.

  That wasn’t my only concern.

  At any moment, Darren’s investigations would draw to a close and Mira’s shrewd gaze would fall back to me. Then I’d be stuck guarding the Council chambers with another where any deviation would be reported back to the one person who would jump at the chance to try me for the same crimes as my brother.

  My careful searches grew increasingly frantic. I stopped caring which explanation to offer when someone asked. I was the head mage of the regiment for the time being, and I was ready to abuse that power for all it was worth. I’d inspected every surface lining the Crown and Council chambers, every scroll tucked into place, every cushion left unturned, every nook and cranny in most of the castle storerooms.

  By the tenth day, I had breached most chambers, save the king’s quarters and the palace barracks, the latter of which was never empty enough to escape notice, and the former required an explanation I could not offer.

  I continued to circle back to the Crown hall at the end of each long day. A part of me had known it would always come back to this, that anything I needed would be in the king’s quarters. I doubted Blayne was fool enough to hide incriminating evidence among his men.

  “Neither of their highnesses have returned.”

  I didn’t flinch as I looked to Conrad, one of the four guards standing at attention in front of the very wing I needed to inspect. There was no chance I could enter the wrong chamber unnoticed. If it were just the old man, perhaps, but all four guards were Mira’s hand-selected recruits. Knowing her, she had probably told them to pay extra attention to “the sister of the rebel,” princess or not.

  “Thank you. I wasn’t sure if they had.” There was no point in pretending I needed my shared chamber with the prince.

  “Mira was looking for you.” The head guard scratched at his beard, his expression kinder than the others. I suspected he took pity on the lowborn girl who was the subject of the head mage’s wrath. We’d been on friendly terms before Mira had taken up her role in the palace. “She said to tell you their investigations are over and you are to report to the Council hall for your regular post starting at dawn.”

  Inside, my chest withered away at the news. My time was up. Ten days and I had nothing to show for the effort. I was a master at plans and a failure at action.

  “Tell her I will be thrilled to put my talents to use guarding an empty room.”

  One of the others chuckled, quickly muffling their snort with a cough.

  “The prince is in the practice courts with the king.”

  “With the king?” I was sure I had misheard.

  “His majesty might not share his brother’s propensity for magic, but I say he isn’t the worst I’ve ever seen with a sword.”

  “He trains?”

  “Not as often as the regiment, mind you, but he does join on occasion.” The man brushed absently at his tunic. “He took it up after the prince left for the Academy. My own boys would rather quarrel than spend an hour in one another’s company, but that is not these brothers’ case.”

  I wished it was. I wasn’t thrilled to hear Blayne could fence, even less so that he had taken it up to impress Darren. The more time those two spent together, the stronger the bond… and it would be that much harder to convince Darren his brother was a heartless dictator when the time came.

  “How—” There was acid on my tongue; I made myself swallow. “—touching.”

  “Are you planning on joining them?” One of the guards looked on eagerly. “Our shift is almost up. It’s not often one gets to see the whole of the Crown duel.”

  If you stick around long enough, you might get the chance. I shook my head, wisely choosing to not speak that last thought aloud.

  “Very well, Your Highness.” The older knight gave me a parting nod.

  I started to walk past, only to pause in afterthought. My stomach twisted. “Conrad?”

  “Yes?” The guard gave me a surprised cough; I could tell he hadn’t expected me to remember his name from before.

  “No ‘highness.’ It’s just Ryiah, please.”

  “Very well, your—that is to say—Ryiah.”

  “Thank you.”

  I turned a key to my chamber lock, twisting it so hard it hurt.

  I was a mage and a girl, and that was all I would ever be. Anything else was a lie.

  * * *

  “Don’t drop that shield. It should be an extension of your arm, my lady.”

  I glowered at my guard as we switched positions. We’d been dueling like this for an hour. Originally it had been my idea—a way to distract from the last week and a half of fruitless searching in the palace—but now I was regretting it. Paige was more critical than any of my training masters when we practiced.

  I wanted a quick victory, but Paige was determined to make me work for it.

  I’d neglected my training for most of a month, and it showed a bit too well when matched against a knight without magic.

  “You can’t be mortal.” My teeth gritted against the effort to hold the shield level with my chest. “These weigh at least double the regiment standard.”

  “Crown issue or not—” Paige met my sword, side-stepping with impossible ease. “—that’s no excuse to neglect your training.”

  “I’m not.” I lunged forward again with a thrust of the sword.

  The knight parried my cut. There was the loud clang of metal on metal, and we drew apart. “You are. You do half the strengthening routines you should.”

  “Not all of us are built with the arms of a bloody mule.” I exhaled, darting left. “And I’ll have you know, I do the best I—”

  “She’s too used to employing her magic in the lift.” Darren’s voice rang outside the barracks’ outdoor arena; his chuckle grew louder on approach. There was the shift of worn leather against snow and then his voice rang out from the stands with a laugh. “Sorry, love.”

  “Traitors.” I scowled at my guard and husband as they exchanged smirks. “The both of you.”

  I needed a victory, and instead, I was getting a lesson in humility. Frustration sang out
beneath burning veins. I needed this.

  Paige and I circled one another for the hundredth time that afternoon, and I could feel every inch of magic throbbing just underneath my skin. I ignored it the best I could; they were right, of course. I had grown too complacent in my training, relying on magic more and more to make up for variances in strength.

  Ever since the Candidacy, I had fallen behind. First from jealousy, then in mourning, and most lately from a lack of caring. Darren was the Black Mage, and I was just the girl trailing behind. What did it matter whether I continued to be second best?

  All that hard work and where had it gotten me?

  Deep down, there was a truth plaguing my heart, but I was not about to face it now. Instead, I threw myself into the duel. I shut out emotion and breathed the adrenaline, feeling the surge of blood and heat as my aching muscles warmed to the familiar drill at hand.

  Paige was an excellent swordswoman, but I hadn’t spent the whole of my training on casting alone. There was a reason mages were considered elite warriors, even without their magic. Years of training had given me a reason to brush past the pain, to push myself where others might have quit.

  Five more minutes passed.

  And then finally I caught a break.

  Our swords shattered on impact, shards of metal in a flurry of silver as the two of us ducked and tumbled to the ground. I didn’t have a moment to recover; it was Paige’s brawny arms against mine. The two of us locked in a hold that only one could win.

  The snow was icy cold, biting into my skin even with the tunic and vest. Everything was slippery and wet.

  My limbs quivered, I could feel that familiar quake in my arms. Another minute and I would give under the strength of her weight. I was helpless and I hated it. I was so sick of losing.

  “Surrender?”

  For a moment, I stopped seeing my friend. I saw Blayne’s hands pinning me in place. A cruel smile played across pale lips as he tilted my head, forcing me to watch as Derrick and his friend limped down the dark castle hall.