Last Stand: The Black Mage Book 4

by Carter, Rachel E.

  Mira appears, throwing her head back as she laughs. A flare of white lights up the room.

  I writhe against the king’s grip and my foot catches against a small catch in the tile. I throw my weight, everything I have, and roll hard. My right shoulder roars in protest and a white-hot pain tears up along my arm.

  Suddenly the pain stops and the weight ceases.

  Blayne slams against the marble. His head hits the floor with a crack, lolling to the side. A small trickle of scarlet puddles just underneath, staining the marble as I stare.

  “Ryiah!” Two hands jerked me back. The biting pain returned as I fell into something wet and numbingly cold.

  My vision blurred and I blinked rapidly, watching as the king dematerialized and my guard took his place. I wasn’t in the palace hall; I was outside in the barracks’ arena. I was sprawled back in the snow as Darren knelt in front of Paige, calling for help as blood seeped beneath her amber braid. Her eyes were shut and her chest was rapidly rising and falling beneath her vest.

  “Paige…” My tongue was so heavy, the words faltered and fell. “I-is she g-going t-to—”

  I blinked and a pair of healers were suddenly beside the prince, carefully using their hands to trace the knight’s injuries. Their magic sparked a gentle green, slipping just under the skin as she groaned.

  Darren took a step back and found his way to me. Dark hair fell across his face, making his eyes unreadable. “She’ll be fine. Ryiah, you have to be more careful.”

  Even as the Restoration mages worked their magic, my eyes remained glued to the russet snow just beneath Paige’s head. It was growing darker as I stared.

  I couldn’t believe what I had almost done. What I could have done, had Darren not pulled me away.

  “I-I didn’t m-mean…” I tried to sit up and a sharp pain flared, sending me back against the icy snow.

  “You dislocated your shoulder.” Darren’s hand caught my wrist before I could try to move again. “You need to wait for a healer.” The prince’s voice lowered to almost a whisper. “What happened, Ryiah? One moment you were fine, and the next…” His breath rattled. “It was like you were a different person.”

  I could never tell the truth. “I wanted to win.”

  Darren made a frustrated sound through his teeth.

  Better the prince thought me reckless than a girl driven by hate. I had stopped seeing my friend in that duel. All my helpless rage had channeled a manifestation of his brother instead. I’d been willing to kill.

  I would have killed, had he not stopped me.

  A palm pressed against the small of my back and my tongue rammed against my teeth. It was as if someone had taken a chain and twisted it around my ribs, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. Vaguely, I heard the prince thanking the healer as their casting began to knit itself under my skin.

  “Your eyes—” Darren started and then stopped. I knew exactly what he was unable to say. Three months of carrying this horrible truth. It was a festering poison inside. It was making me helpless and angry and guilty and desperate.

  It was making me a different person.

  * * *

  That night I found myself in the kennels.

  Paige was recovering, taking the rest of the day to rest in the infirmary. I’d tried to apologize earlier, but she wouldn’t have it.

  “Why are you sorry?” she’d demanded. “I didn’t take that hit as I should. You’re a warrior not a healer, stop coddling me.” She’d thrown me out with a stiff reprimand to stop “feeling sorry” for myself.

  How could I tell her it wouldn’t have mattered, that I wouldn’t have stopped? That everyone needed to stop trusting me. I was a liar, and I was weak, and apparently all it would take was one moment of feeling helpless for me to hurt someone I cared about without a second thought.

  I greeted the palace hounds, not caring as wafts of fur and slobber speckled my cloak. Wolf was at the front of their pack, caked in mud and skinny garden weeds, barking happily as I knelt to the ground.

  Sitting there, surrounded by such simple joy, I could almost pretend I was somewhere else. I didn’t have to hide my emotions here. I could sulk and be miserable and the world wouldn’t know. It didn’t matter that I had slipped up and let my rage get the best of me, that I had almost killed one of my friends in the span of a breath. The hounds didn’t care that I was tainted and lying to the world. All they cared was that I was here, feeding them scraps from the kitchen and scratching their coarse heads.

  A couple of years ago, I’d feared them. Ha. I would give most anything to go back. My fears were so much greater now.

  “What should I do?”

  Wolf let out a yip, thumping his tail against the dirt. I choked, coughing up more dust as he rose.

  “Should I keep searching the palace? I’m bound to get caught. Now that Mira has me on guard duty and she’s back in charge—”

  A sharp bark made me pause. One of the others was demanding my attention, its ears cocked to the side.

  “You are right, of course.” I scratched under the corner of the hound’s head and chuckled, almost madly. “Silly me, I need to give this all up and become a dog.”

  Ten days had come and gone, and what did I have to show for it? The Pythian ambassador would laugh in my face.

  Wolf whimpered, pawing at my wrist. I stopped petting the hound to focus on the shaggy mutt. Darren’s childhood had so many bad memories, but I still remembered the day he introduced me to his dog. The mutt’s steady eyes met my own, so much like his master’s that day years ago: happy.

  That’s when the answer finally came. I couldn’t believe it had taken me so long.

  I’m wasting my time.

  Nyx had reminded me as much at the keep. The Pythians were ruthless. They didn’t care about right and wrong; they didn’t care about anything except winning.

  I had spent all this time searching for evidence that might not exist. Would a king as ruthless as Blayne really be fool enough to leave proof of his crimes lying around for the taking? Even well-hidden proof in his chambers? Even proof that might not easily be identified as such? Proof that no one but someone like me, someone already aware of his plans, could comprehend?

  The answer was a resounding no.

  You know why you keep looking for evidence.

  It wasn’t for the Pythians. They wanted power. I’d known the moment Nyx had said it: “Any rule is better than that of a corrupt king.” Jerar would be better under King Joren’s rule than our own. The Pythians might be greedy, but they wouldn’t stage a war or turn on their people.

  I’d known all along what to offer.

  These last eleven days, this investigation, it had all been for him.

  Foolish girl. I had thought if I just searched hard enough I could find it, that one thing that would make my claims irrefutable, something that Darren could never contest. It couldn’t be just anything to put so many lives at stake, but I had still assumed it existed.

  Even now, I still want to tell him the truth. Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes. I hated myself for being so weak; I thought that by now this guilt would be over. I knew the rules, but a part of me just wouldn’t let go.

  I suspected that was the same part that had stayed in love with the prince even after his ‘betrayal’ during the apprenticeship. That part was not subject to reason. She chose Darren over everything. The problem was she believed in happily ever afters, and the truth was much more bitter. She couldn’t pick the boy in this story, and she couldn’t pick herself.

  She had to pick the rest of the world, because she was the only one who could.

  I hated that girl. I wanted to be selfish.

  Wolf nudged at my knee, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. I didn’t know how or why, but I suspected he knew everything.

  I wondered if he thought I was making a big mistake. Because right now, I couldn’t disagree.

  “What would you do?” I whispered.

  Wolf whined softly, resting his h
ead in my palms; it was the only reassurance he could offer.

  8

  I wasn’t nervous. I should have been, all things considered. Duke Cassius and the Pythians were a scrupulous bunch. I had no idea where I would approach them, or how I would phrase the treasonous words that would start a war, or what they would say in return. I didn’t know anything. But instead of restless nights in the dark recesses of my mind, our week-long trek to Port Langli was a vacation.

  “Someone looks a bit too chipper this morning.” Paige eyed me over her morning tea, her scrutiny narrowing as she fixated on my appearance. “Henry, look at her. Something is wrong with Lady Ryiah.”

  “What is it?”

  “She won’t stop smiling.”

  “So?”

  “So this one doesn’t smile before noon.” The knight made a face. “Or have you forgotten which charge we drag out of bed each morning. Remember that one time? She almost singed off your brow with that casting.”

  To be fair, they had thought collapsing a tent with me inside was an appropriate measure. I yawned loudly at Paige’s observance. “Maybe I’m just having a good day. Did you ever think of that?”

  “Maybe you finally cracked under the pressure.”

  “You would like that, wouldn’t you,” I countered. “I’d be much more compliant.”

  “My beautiful wife? Compliant?” Darren scoffed from the tree where our horses were tethered. It was his turn to see to our charges. “That will be the day.”

  I rolled my eyes at all three of my companions. “Are we done commenting on my mood? I believe we have some Pythians to greet.”

  Universal groans met with my declaration.

  “I don’t know who I care to see most,” the prince said dryly, “Priscilla, her father, or Duke Cassius.”

  The three of us finished up the rest of our breakfast in silence. A couple of minutes later and we were on the road, salty sea air and grassy plains providing a nice change of pace. Ella would love this a lot more than the keep, I thought absently. She hated the cold more than anyone I knew. Perhaps when things were over, Alex could take her somewhere along the coast. Winter was a lot kinder by the sea.

  As the sun finally set, we reached the cobblestone streets of Jerar’s most famous port. It was also run by the wealthiest man in the country, save the king himself, Baron Langli. It was a beautiful town. Months of my apprenticeship had been spent walking the beach—when I wasn’t sleeping off exhaustion in the barracks.

  Torches lined the paved road to my nemesis’s old home. The castle might have been smaller than the palace in Devon, but it was certainly no less intimidating.

  From a comfortable bluff just outside the city limits, white sandstone piled high into the sky, spiraling golden turrets at its peaks. I could see the baron’s proud sigil, a white stag against a flag of indigo, flapping from a high window to the left. Where the palace was cold and the Academy rough, this castle was beauty and grace.

  I’d seen the baron’s home from a distance, of course, but never this close. The barracks were at the opposite end of the city.

  Real comprehension of what Darren had given up weighed down on me as I studied the Langli legacy. Pick the girl you love, or the girl whose wealth could save hundreds… That guilt only deepened as guards in indigo ushered us forward, taking our mounts and bringing us inside.

  Inside was only worse. Thousands upon thousands of abalone shells had been pressed into the walls, their rich inner hues catching light streaming in through the windows so that the entire hall caught fire with the sun. Blue and green and amethyst washed over the entire room like the sea.

  “Your Highness, you always were one for impeccable timing.” A slim man with hawk-like angles and severe white locks strode across the hall. He was dressed in expensive cloth that draped loosely off his frame. His stature spoke of grace, and his skin was faultless, just like his castle.

  “You remember well, Alain.” Darren afforded the man a strained smile.

  I took in the others—a boy, slightly younger than myself, whose sulky countenance brought back years of unbridled hate, and an impossibly beautiful girl who I had spent so many years trying to understand.

  Neither of us were anxious to exchange greetings.

  The baron continued effortlessly. “You remember my family, of course. My daughter, Priscilla, and my nephew, Merrick, who assures me he has had the pleasure as well.” There was a pause as his voice tightened, just the slightest change in his tone. It wasn’t hard to guess the reason. “I take it this one is your… wife.”

  “Have the Pythians already arrived?” Darren was doing his best to avoid the growing tension in the room.

  “Only an hour before yourself.” Baron Langli appeared to have recovered from the unexpected silence. “Duke Cassius and his party took the chambers to the east. After two weeks at sea, they intended to refresh before anything else.”

  “Shall we take the chambers in the west?”

  “You remember our home well.”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” Priscilla’s eyes flashed. “He wasn’t here all that long ago, taking dinners during the apprenticeship while he courted that one behind my back.”

  “Priscilla.” Her father’s tone bespoke a warning.

  “She’s right.” Darren spoke softly to my right, his face paling just the slightest; I tried not to read anything into it. “I believe I can see to my wife and guards without an escort. Thank you for having us.”

  The girl’s eyes narrowed as she folded her arms in a defensive stance. “We didn’t have a choice.”

  “Priscilla!” the baron choked out, his face growing red with rage. “Enough!”

  “Your favorite prince doesn’t care.” The girl didn’t wait for her father’s reply; she was already sauntering out of the hall, laughing madly. “It’s a little late to worry about impressing the Crown, Father. If he wants to wage war on our family, he’ll have to get through the Caltothians first.”

  From Merrick’s smirk, I suspected this wasn’t the first time they had fought.

  “If you’ll please excuse her.” The elegant lord sounded irritable as he addressed the prince. “You should understand the transition hasn’t been easy. She has a bit of a temper.”

  “No apologies needed.”

  “When the four of you have settled in, the Pythians will be ready to meet.”

  “Certainly.”

  As we followed Darren’s lead down the winding corridor, I couldn’t keep from grinning.

  Priscilla. Like her or hate her, that girl knew how to leave an impression.

  * * *

  Much later that evening, I sat at a long rustic table overlooking the bluff. From my seat, I took in the dark sea below and the Pythians’ ships, just small blotches of ink against the rolling current. Forty ships and a hundred men each. I picked at my meal and tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand. I needed to speak up. I watched the duke, all bulk and corn yellow braids, slip me suspicious glances over the lulls; he expected the old Ryiah, the one that declared wars.

  I couldn’t declare anything with the coil of knots in my stomach now.

  If you only knew what I intend to tell you tonight.

  I listened as Darren continued on with the Crown’s plans, noting the formations Commander Audric had for the Crown’s Army and where the king wanted the Pythian ships. Baron Langli remained silent for most of the meal. He was apparently a man of leisure and the context was below his concern. Merrick tried to interject from time to time, but he was usually met with sharp barks of laughter from Cassius’s men. The Pythian had brought five of his best warriors to serve as his retinue, and they were just as sharp as the duke.

  By the time the meal was over, I had lost what little appetite I had. The mounting pressure was causing panic to press in on my skull, and that little scrap of paper buried in the sleeve of my tunic was burning a hole against my skin. I kept wiping my sweaty palms against my breeches as discreetly as I could, but after the fifth time, I ca
ught Paige staring at me with a raised brow.

  Blast that woman for being so keen at observation.

  I gave her a weak smile, and she pointed to my brow. I lifted my fingers and found it clammy and moist. I cringed and started to reach for a linen. Paige tossed me her own.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  “We are all afraid.”

  My gaze darted to the others, but they were all too engaged to hear us. The only one who wasn’t was Priscilla, and she was too busy drowning in her third glass of wine to notice.

  “Even you?”

  Her laugh was bitter. “Every breath I take.”

  “I can never tell.”

  “My mask is better than most.” The knight stared at me long and hard, and I grew uncomfortable under her stare. There was something she wasn’t saying. Did she suspect?

  Two more flasks of wine were passed around the table, and I seized my opportunity, taking a page from my old nemesis herself. Desperate times called for desperate measures… or senseless measures or whatever they loved to say.

  I downed a goblet of wine with gusto, waited ten more minutes, and then stood, letting my balance waiver as I picked my way across the room. Paige shot up to follow. Loyal to a fault.

  “My lady—”

  “And there she is, the second most formidable mage of Jerar.” Cassius chuckled as I approached the head of the table. “Here to assure I stick to my promise?”

  “Or we will s-sset our fieldsss on f-fire…” I pretended to slur, feigning a stumble as my fingers caught on the ambassador’s cloak. A slip of paper fell into his lap and I laughed awkwardly as the man’s shrewd gaze shot to my hand. He knows. “S-sorry!”

  Paige collected me by the arms and Darren cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I apologize, your grace. It’s been quite a long day for some of us.”

  “Has it?” The man’s sharp gaze returned to me.

  Darren turned to Paige. “Can you…?”

  “Certainly.” My guard nodded and began to lead me away. I feigned an oblivious smile as we exited the hall.