Darren knelt to scratch Wolf’s chest. The mutt had taken to following him around the palace grounds during the day. Most of the regiment soldiers had taken to feeding him scraps, and he was thriving in his new life.
The prince was trying hard not to let on how much the man’s praise meant. “It was nothing.” It was something. It meant a lot, but the gods would have to pry the truth from his tongue.
“What you did at the end, though, that was dangerous. Pain casting isn’t something you should be practicing with your peers. You could lose control.”
“I didn’t.”
“And why was that?” the man halted in place, peering closely at the prince’s face.
Darren willed his gaze to give away nothing.
“You know,” the man said slowly, “there are third-year apprentices who’ve spent years fighting for that level of skill. Pain casting isn’t something they even teach the first-years at the Academy. The magic is unstable and unpredictable at best.”
“It wasn’t for me.”
“Pain casting is even rarer than magic itself. Perhaps one out of every three even have the ability, and the ones that do...” The man studied Darren’s stance. “To perform that well, this young, with that much control… it means you must have had great practice controlling pain in your past.”
The prince said nothing. What was there to say? Most of the court knew what his father was; they were just wise enough not to voice the word aloud. A monster.
The mage placed a firm hand on the prince’s shoulder. Darren cringed. He wasn’t sure what was worse, sympathy from a man who had once saved his life or the fact that he found himself wishing for more.
It was so hard holding up a wall, shutting out the pain and expectation, giving the world the prince they expected. He was good at it. Gods, Darren was good at everything he tried, but sometimes he wanted to be someone else. He wanted to leave the palace and the parts that made it so hard to sleep, flee this life that was equal parts poison and pride.
But Darren recognized that as weakness. And so like all of the other feelings that haunted him, he shoved it back down.
He gave the world a cold, condescending face. He would never show them anything else. His jaw was set.
The man seemed to recognize how uncomfortable he had made the prince.
Marius released his shoulder with a sigh. “It won’t always be like this,” he told the boy. “I know what it’s like to grow up with expectation. I have a younger sister that reminds me of your Blayne. She and my parents made things… difficult. When you go off to that school, it will get better. It might not be what you want, but away from the chains, you might find someone with whom you can be yourself.”
Ha. Not even Eve knew the darkest parts of his past. But Darren held his tongue. Despite the man’s uncalled for assumptions, he respected his words. Marius had a humor and a gravity the other men didn’t. Darren could immediately see why the man had performed so well in the Candidacy. A mage had to be able to read others if they wanted to go far, and Marius had an uncanny ability for seeing the truth after two hours observing the prince.
“Your father asked me to give you additional lessons for the time being,” the mage added. “We can meet each dawn in the indoor training court, and then you can join up with the others for the rest of your drills. I am happy you live up to Mage Dargon’s praise, I wouldn’t like to waste hours with one of the others…” The man’s eyebrow rose, his green eyes twinkling in the fading sun as they finished crossing the threshold to the palace doors. “Perhaps Eve, but those last three couldn’t even cast.” Marius gave a confiding snort. “I don’t know why their parents waste so much coin on children with no magic.”
Darren hid a grin. “Half the court is made up of fools.”
The man winked. “Only half?”
The prince decided right then and there; he liked the man.
6
It was his least favorite part of being a prince. A formal ball. This time it was being held in honor of the visiting Emperor Liang and his daughter, Princess Shinako of the Borea Isles.
It wasn’t that Darren didn’t like the princess. She wasn’t pretentious like the rest of his father’s court. She also wasn’t his intended. And the emperor was certainly more tolerable than his father.
But a ball meant rules, and since King Lucius was in talks with the emperor to have their two heirs wed, that left Darren to every ruthless family in court. Mothers thrusted their hapless daughters into his presence. There was only so much mindless conversation the boy could take.
If he danced with one more fool who insisted on choking him with rose-scented oils and shoving herself into his arms for a dance….
Darren hated dancing. He hated the string of compliments and the way the girls all looked alike, a parade of endless faces, powdered and pressed, just waiting to catch his eye.
He suspected the most irritating one was Priscilla. Somehow she too had discovered magic just weeks before, and now that she was a part of his training once again, she had marked him as hers.
In some ways, they were alike. Priscilla could fight and she carried her pride like a knife. The girl didn’t fall for the courtiers’ lies; instead, she reigned. But she still irked him with her calculated assault.
Darren didn’t want to play those courtly games. He wanted something… different than the walls closing in.
So he avoided her at all costs. He was lurking near a tapestry when Eve broke free from the crowd to find him.
“Stop hiding.”
The prince shot his friend a look. “I’m not hiding. There is just no one worth my time.”
A smile curved the side of her mouth. “I think there is.”
“If you say Priscilla…” he warned.
Eve snickered. “Never, but you haven’t looked hard enough. Or did you fail to notice Sir Theron’s daughter in the crowd. She looks awfully pretty tonight.”
Darren had noticed her, but he had no interest in a convent girl. At least with Priscilla, he’d have a wife he could respect. Perhaps also despise, but respect.
The girl elbowed him. “Ella is like us, Darren. She’s friends with Kora”—the girl Eve favored, one of the more intelligent young women in court—“and I’ve heard her telling anyone who will listen she wants to be a knight like her father. People say she trains with her father’s sword when no one is around.”
Darren smiled despite himself.
Eve pushed on, noticing her friend’s interest. “She might not be as good as us, but she’s good, Darren. And she speaks her mind, not like the others.” The girl made a face.
The prince supposed there were worse things than meeting this Ella. He cast a glance around the ballroom and found her, dancing with one of the brutes. He believed it was Jake, though it was hard to be sure, the brothers looked so alike. The girl had a forced smile in place as he stepped on her feet.
He’d noticed Ella on more than one occasion. She was one of the darker-skinned girls, with curling ebony locks and sharp eyes. She hadn’t looked fragile like the other useless flowers in court, that was the first thing he remembered. Of course, now he knew that was because she secretly trained for the School.
“Would you like me to—”
Darren smirked. “I think I can make my own introductions.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “Just don’t present your usual arrogant self. She might be inclined to punch you in the face.”
“Like you?” He hadn’t forgotten the first time he had picked a fight with Eve. The memory made him grin.
“Exactly.”
Darren wasted no time making his way through the crowd. He didn’t offer any apologies for the incompetence of those who failed to notice a prince in time.
Then he tapped Jake on the shoulder. The boy jerked his head to the side and then paused, mid-dance.
Ella shot the prince a startled glance.
“Would you like a partner who can actually dance?” Darren gave the girl a rare smile. He
knew very well its effect.
She laughed, and Jake gave the prince an irritated look. The boy knew better than to complain, but his expression clearly said he would give Darren a run for his joke in the training courts the next day. Darren welcomed him to try.
“So,” the girl said as they took their stance. One hand rested lightly on his shoulder, the other in his palm. It was a traditional dance accompanied by stringed rebecs. “What brings the palace’s most notorious prince to ask me to dance?” There was a sparkle in her amber eyes.
“I heard you want to be a knight.” Darren was surprised at his own honesty. “Is that true?”
She grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t mind being a commander, but not all of us share your luck.”
“If you were, would you pick my father’s personal regiment or the army?”
She didn’t waste any time. “Crown’s Army. Why would I want to guard when I could fight?”
Exactly. A knight serving the palace regiment was nothing more than a puppet in his opinion.
“Wow. Was that an actual smile?”
Darren tensed. “I smile.”
“But that one was real. The first one was the one you give the other girls. That look that says I’m supposed to find you irresistible.”
“So you’ve noticed?”
“Please.” She gave him a knowing look. “You make it your life’s work to be noticed. I’ve heard it from ten different people tonight that you are a prodigy.”
“Only ten?” He was grinning now. He wasn’t even paying attention to the music as he spun the girl around the room. “And nothing about my looks?”
Ella blushed. “You are handsome enough, but you know it. You don’t need to hear it from me.”
“Maybe I want to.”
“Well, you just did.” She looked embarrassed, and Darren enjoyed the fact that she didn’t try to spout flattery instead. The girl was ashamed she had complimented him, and that somehow made him like her more.
“What is your favorite weapon?”
“The sword. I know I should like archery the best because it’s what all of the other girls pick, and everyone says I won’t last against an opponent twice my size…” Ella’s expression turned defiant. “But I practice with my father’s broadsword when he’s asleep. I wager half the boys entering the School can’t manage the same.”
“Mine is the axe.” He wasn’t sure why he was just giving information freely without being asked.
“Wow.” Her tone had risen in respect. “The axe? Just one or…?”
“Two. I’m still trying to figure how to—”
“May I cut in?”
The dance had long ended, and Darren and Ella hadn’t moved. A highborn was waiting for his turn.
Darren scowled and shot the boy a look. “No. You can’t.”
Ella snickered as the boy sulked away.
“So you still want to dance with me?”
“Do you still want to dance with me?”
She didn’t say anything; she just nodded.
Two more dances came and went. Darren lost count. He was too entranced with the girl to care if he was causing a scene. He knew Priscilla was off somewhere in the crowds, glaring at the prince she fought so hard to claim. But for the first time, Darren was enjoying himself at a ball, and he wasn’t about to give all of that up to please his father and his unspoken expectations with the Langli girl.
There was another hand on his shoulder as the next dance began; Darren turned to send the fool running, only to find his brother instead. Princess Shinako was standing not far behind, in an elaborate dress of Borean silk.
“Father is furious,” the boy drawled. “You’ve monopolized this one’s time and all but ignored the rest.”
Darren’s smile was gone and his jaw was clenched. “Go away, Blayne.”
The crown prince ignored his request. “How about I steal a dance with the beautiful young woman that has stolen my little brother’s attention?” He smirked as he took Ella’s palm and pressed it to his lips. “Would you care to dance with an heir instead?”
The girl’s gaze flit from Darren to Blayne, her cheeks reddening.
Darren’s hands fisted at his side. Blayne could have the attention of any girl in the room, but he had chosen Darren’s. It was a play for power and one Darren couldn’t win. “Take her,” the boy said curtly. “She’s hardly a prize.”
The girl flinched, and Darren immediately regretted his words. He had hurt her, but he couldn’t let his brother see how much it bothered him.
When Darren met her eyes, Ella looked away. Then she smiled up at his brother. “I’ve always wanted to dance with an heir,” she said, a hard lilt to her voice.
There was a kick to his gut. The boy ground down on his teeth as his older brother shot the girl a knowing wink.
“My dear,” he said, “there is much you have been missing. Shall I show you?”
“Please.”
Neither looked back as they made their way to the center of the floor.
“Your brother isn’t very nice, is he?”
Darren turned to the princess at his right. He was thinking of how he had insulted the one girl he actually liked.
“Neither am I,” he said tightly.
“You are.” The princess was far too observant for her own good. “You didn’t mean what you said to her. You were just doing it to hurt your brother.”
Darren’s gaze shot to the princess. His brother was a fool for leaving her side.
“Would you care to dance with a non-heir?” The title gritted his mouth; he hated it, but he was mocking his brother’s earlier words. “Your highness?”
Shinako gave him a small smile. “Only if you call me Shina.”
It was an hour later when Darren left the Borean princess’s side.
Blayne and Ella had left for a stroll through the gardens. Hot anger burned Darren’s lungs. His older brother wasn’t just content to steal the girl for a dance, now he was determined to make her like his other… conquests.
And Darren wasn’t about to just stand by.
Ever since that day in the forest, there was a gap between the brothers, and it had only continued to grow. Everything had become a test. Blayne was still charming among others; but with Darren, he’d grown cold. Everything was a rivalry, and Blayne almost always won.
Darren had never cared. He had his magic and his group of… friends. He knew Blayne had their father, and as much as he might pretend it was all privilege, there was also pain. There were times Darren had seen it hiding behind the crown prince’s easy courtier smile.
Darren knew there was a part of Blayne that lashed out because he wanted what the non-heir had.
But that didn’t mean the boy wouldn’t fight. And something told him he would be a fool if he let that girl fall under his brother’s spell. Someday Blayne would be marrying a Borean Isle princess and this girl, Ella, well, maybe someday Darren would like to win her for himself. His father was in talks with Baron Langli, but all these years and the king had yet to set a betrothal between Priscilla and himself.
But maybe would never come if he didn’t apologize first.
It took a while for the boy to find them. By the time he did, they had left the gardens, and the girl was clutching a glass of wine and laughing a little too loudly. Her face was a little too red as the prince drew her toward an empty hall.
If Darren thought he was angry before, it was nothing next to his reaction now. Blayne had more than once boasted about what transpired here.
The prince lost any semblance of indifference as his brother pulled the stumbling girl into the nearest chamber door.
Darren wasn’t sure who he was more furious with, his brother or himself. How could he be such a fool? Of course the girl was just like the rest. She had chosen the heir. How many more times would it take before Darren learned the rule.
Why had he thought Ella was any different?
Why did he still care?
Darren wasn’t sure wh
y he was still standing there in that hall, staring at that door. He should leave. There was nothing left for him here. He needed to leave.
He stood there another minute telling himself it didn’t matter. He was better off for discovering this now, before he felt something more.
The boy turned to leave. He was halfway to the next corridor when he heard a muffled shout.
And then a girl’s scream.
It was coming from the chamber. No one else was in the hall. They were in an abandoned wing of the palace.
Darren spun.
And Ella screamed again. It was followed by a crash.
The prince took off running. He kept hearing her scream in his head. Or perhaps it was aloud. He wasn’t sure.
When he twisted the handle, the door swung open.
Darren’s eyes shot to the scene before him. Blayne was wrestling the girl onto the ground. Her dress was ripped.
Ella’s fingernails were dripping blood as she clawed at his brother’s neck. Her gaze immediately shot to the door. To Darren.
He stood there for a moment, his body frozen in place. There was no mistaking this scene.
Walk away. There was a rule screaming in his head. Walk away. He’s the heir. This doesn’t concern you. Blayne is to be king; he can do whatever he wants.
Blayne still hadn’t seen him; he was too busy raising a fist.
Everything inside him was telling Darren this was wrong, that he needed to help.
But the rule wouldn’t let him go. He was to be his brother’s savior; the girl was nothing. No one. It wasn’t a matter of life or death.
Loyalty to the Crown was the only thing that mattered.
Darren turned and left the room.
Ella screamed again, and Darren slammed a fist to his mouth to stifle his own. His back was to the wall, just seconds from the door. His fingernails drew blood in his palms. He bit down so hard on his tongue he tasted hot coppery blood.
He couldn’t just walk away.
The kitten with the broken neck. That knight in the woods. Ella.
This was their father. This was the monster rearing its ugly head.
Non-Heir: The Black Mage Prequel Novella Page 7
