The Black Mage: Candidate (13 page)

“Maybe not the
whole
time,” I conceded. “But you would have certainly deserved it if I did.”

He leaned forward, pressing his palms against the wood at either side of my head. “Do I deserve it now?”

I rolled my eyes, and he smirked, removing one hand to tip my chin and kiss me. Softly. Slowly. Enough to send a wave of tremors from the pit of my stomach to the tips of my toes. Enough to let me know that
he
knew I had no real defense. Not against him.

But it wasn’t just me.

I pulled him into me.
Closer
. So that it really was as if the two of us had melded against the door. As if there was nothing to separate us but the thin garments against the burning of our skin.

Everything around me was swimming.

My hands slid up his arms to wrap around his neck and then I willed myself not to faint. The way he shifted his hands to grip along my waist.

I could feel the non-heir’s rapid intake of breath and the way his fingers dug into my sides. Hard.

And it felt so,
so
right.

In seconds his lips were back on mine. And I was gasping for air. And his tongue was in my mouth and his hands were fumbling with the top laces of my dress and I was ripping the shirt up and over his head.

And then…

And then the door I was pushed up against swung open, and I was sent stumbling into the corridor, tripping over my dress as I crashed into someone behind. Darren managed to catch himself against the knob, but I was not so lucky, falling against the stranger with a muffled yelp.

“And just when I thought the palace had grown short on entertainment.”

I jumped at the familiar drawl and threw myself out of the stranger’s arms faster than I had ever done anything in my life.

My face burned as I steadied myself, pulling up to straighten my dress as the crown prince stepped neatly out of the darkness behind Darren and me.

“Blayne.” Darren’s voice was a growl as he stepped forward, pulling me behind him.

“Really, brother.” The crown prince folded his arms. “The library?”

The non-heir refused to rise to the bait. “What do you want?”

“Father sent the servants to find you, but I knew you’d give them the slip.” The crown prince’s gaze flitted to me and then back to his brother. “Lucky for you, I just asked them where
she
went and, well, here I am.”

“Tell him I will be there shortly—”

“Now.” Blayne cut him off with a sharp reprimand. “Do you think I like listening to those old men argue for hours on end? The Council isn’t even present—they are still dealing with the rebels in the south. I’m not doing this alone. There will be plenty of time for romancing your bride
after
the Pythians arrive.”

I nudged Darren, thinking about how angry the king had been just a couple nights before. I still didn’t trust Blayne one bit, and I hadn’t the slightest doubt he would tell the king who was responsible for Darren’s absence if he delayed.

The non-heir gave a loud grumble. “Just give me a minute, Blayne.”

“Smile, little brother.” The crown prince gave his brother a hard clap on the shoulder and retreated back into the hall, calling out, “Just think, if we secure my Pythian princess, this happily ever after for you and your lovely, little lowborn can come that much sooner.”

As soon as Blayne turned the corner Darren slumped against the wall and gave me a tired smile. It was the first time I realized how fatigued he really was—the shadows under his eyes hadn’t been quite so evident in a dark library when my mind had been too consumed with feelings to notice.

“I doubt I’ll get much sleep.” Darren sighed. “The Pythian ambassador is ruthless. Father’s advisors will spend the whole night debating how to proceed and nothing will get done.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

He shook his head and took my hand, interweaving his fingers with my own.

I started to smile, and I was about to tell him to go, when I remembered something that had been pressing at my mind since arrival. “Darren?”

“Yes?”

Now was the time to ask.
Do it now, Ryiah, you aren’t going to have a chance later.
“While I was in the north…” I swallowed. “Do you think you would be able to talk to your father about increasing the funds he sends to the border villages?”

“Ryiah.” Darren’s grip tightened on my hand. “We are preparing for war and trying to negotiate with the Pythians. The Crown’s purse is limited. What little we send is all the treasury can afford. It costs a great deal to host an army as large as ours.”

“But—”
What about the people whose livelihood was burned to the ground? What could they do?
I tried again. “How are the northerners supposed to fend for themselves?” I thought of my first month in service. “While I was on duty we came across a large bandit camp, Darren. They turned to crime when the Crown couldn’t help. Wouldn’t it be better to find a way to help them and prevent the north from turning on its own?”

“That is why we have patrols. We can’t save everyone, love.” His eyes grew distant for a moment, and I knew he was thinking of what happened the year before. “
No matter how much I wish we could.”

“Won’t you at least try?”

“Father will never consider a petition from me.” He squeezed my hand. “I was taught command, never policy, but...”

I waited for Darren to finish.

“He might listen if the request came from Blayne.”

My face fell.

Darren wasn’t a fool; he noticed the moment the expression crossed my face.

“I know my brother is difficult—”

You could say that again
.

“But he cares about Jerar. If you take away anything from tonight that would be it.”

I bit my lip. I had no choice. I had to try. For Ian. For all the northerners who had lost their home to the Caltothian raids. I just wished our plan didn’t depend on Blayne. Every instinct was telling me it was wrong.

I didn’t trust the crown prince for a moment. But Darren did. And try as I might I couldn’t find a reason to refuse.

I just hoped I wasn’t making a mistake.

Chapter Seven

“Tonight is going to be such a lavish affair!”

Sofia flounced around the room as she finished fitting me into a swirl of cream-colored skirts, oblivious to the frown that was written all over my face. “Just wait until the prince sees you in this gown—he won’t be able to take his eyes off you!”

I squirmed uncomfortably. “I think you overestimate the ball’s appeal. The entire production is to impress the Pythians—Blayne and Darren have orders to engage the duke the whole evening.” I made a face. “Mine are to embarrass the Crown as little as possible.”

“You won’t embarrass anyone in this, my lady.” She adjusted the top. “Even if you make a mistake you will be far too enchanting for them to take notice.”

“Where have you been all my life?” I gave Sofia a mock curtsy with grand flourish. “You do wonders for my self-esteem.”

The other lady-in-waiting, Gemma, scolded me for moving. The two proceeded to pile my locks into a tumbling array of curls, a couple loose strands to soften the hard lines of my face. Then they hung a small gold chain around the base of my hairline, a small sapphire hanging from its clasp.

I could admit I did feel a bit like Sofia described by the time we were finished. I had never seen Priscilla in anything half so nice as what I was wearing now. I knew the king had only issued such an extravagant order because of the Pythians’ arrival, but there was no harm in reaping the benefits.

When I arrived at the hall outside the grand ballroom, I had another small victory when I caught sight of the non-heir.

He was staring. A lot. Lips slightly parted, I don’t even think he realized that he was doing it.

Maybe Celine was right.
I should wear dresses more often.

Darren muttered something as I took his arm—just loud enough for me to hear—and I was blushing uncontrollably. I looked away immediately, but out of the corner of my eye I could see his gaze hadn’t left my face.

We waited for the herald to announce us to the awaiting audience.

When we were finally called, Darren led me across to King Lucius and the crown prince at the edge of the room.

We sat in silence and watched the courtiers mingle for the next hour. Finally, when I was fighting hard not to fall asleep at the chair, the herald returned to announce our guests of honor had arrived.

“Duke Cassius, brother and ambassador of King Joren of Pythus, and his attendants.”

I watched as a towering man sauntered out into the hall, thick, corn-yellow braids swinging with each mighty stride of his legs. He bore a heavy cloak trimmed in fur, and heavy boots that seemed to crush the rug as they moved. Every step he took seemed slow and deliberate—a fact made even more evident by the quick patter of his guards.

When he finally reached the throne, Duke Cassius bowed the bare minimum afforded the Crown, for the bare minimum of time. Then he returned to a stand, the hint of a sneer playing along his lips.

“My dear, King Lucius. It’s been years. You’ve grown a beard.”

“And Duke Cassius. Always the charmer.”

“Am I?” The man smirked. “I do not remember paying you a compliment.”

Standing uncomfortably, I watched the royals proceed. For a moment there were false pleasantries, and then I heard Darren laugh—a little too loudly—at something the ambassador had said. As soon as the duke turned his back I watched the non-heir wipe his sweaty hand on his sleeve.

Blayne cleared his throat expectantly and addressed the duke with more force. “Care to take a tour of the grounds, Your Grace? I assure you it will be much more alluring than talk of old men’s beards.” He was using his courtier’s charm, the one that might have fooled me years ago before I discovered his true nature. It was full of airy brevity and wit. Persuasive. I could immediately see why Ella had found him captivating before the incident that had forced her to leave court.

“I have only just arrived. Any gracious host would have already found me something to drink.”

My head swerved in the duke’s direction. It was impossible to miss the absence of Blayne’s title, or the command in his voice.

Already I could see why the Crown had spent so much time preparing for the ambassador’s arrival. In the two minutes that had passed since his introduction, one thing was already evident: the Pythian duke was not going to see his niece wed to Jerar’s crown prince willingly. And whatever the duke believed, his brother—the king—was sure to follow.

How were we ever going to convince the Pythians to accept Jerar’s proposal?

Blayne nodded pleasantly in return, and I wondered if he had heard the duke’s underlying scorn. “Certainly, Your Grace.”

Still, his expression didn’t falter.

The duke adjusted his belt and watched the crown prince through narrowed eyes.

“Rupert!” Blayne snapped.
So he did hear it, after all.

A nearby guard dropped his post at the young man’s command. “Yes, Your—”

“Get the Pythians a drink. They are thirsty.”

“Sir, I’m not supposed to leave my post,” the man stammered.

“Then. Find. Someone. To. Do. It. For. You.” Blayne flashed an apologetic smile at the duke. “I apologize for not anticipating your needs earlier, Your Grace.”

“Do you?” He studied the prince with a furrowed brow. “I’ve heard you only anticipate your own. Why else would the Borean princess flee an arranged marriage?”

Ella would like this man
. I bit my lip to keep from snickering. It was wrong to be feeling amiable in such hostile conversation, especially when the stakes were so high.

“You must have heard wrong.” Blayne’s smile never fell. “Princess Shinako didn’t flee. In truth, she was so close to my dear, sweet brother that upon hearing his love for a lowborn the two of us agreed to call off the wedding and cede her dowry to the Lady Ryiah you see here before you now.”

Duke Cassius took notice of me for the first time. His scrutiny made me want to squirm; I could feel his gaze taking in every inch of my uncomfortable appearance, from my burning face to the nervous wringing of my hands. “You are lowborn?”

I opened my mouth, wetting my lips to reply.

“My court heard the rumors, but I never imagined that bit to be true.”

How could I explain?
Blayne’s explanation now was the Crown’s interpretation of Ascension Day, and I was afraid of saying the wrong thing. I could see King Lucius watching from the corner of my eye.

Darren placed the palm of his hand on my back. “Lady Ryiah hasn’t been lowborn since her apprenticeship. She earned a place in court of her own accord, as a
mage
.”

“A mage to marry into the Crown?” His tone held blatant disbelief. “Doesn’t your Council of Magic forbid it?”

I glanced to Darren but he just shook his head, eyes fixed on his father. Blayne and the rest of the duke’s retinue had gone silent.

King Lucius corrected the duke with a curt address. “You forget yourself, Cassius, the Crown already has a mage in its ranks.”

“Prince Darren?” The man scoffed. “I’ve heard the tales your traders spin in Pythus. Forgive me if I am a bit skeptical of a prince as prestigious as they claim.”

The king’s reply was instantaneous. “Darren will be a part of the Candidacy. I trust your brother will be sending his emissaries the same as the last?”

“He will. And I will be a part, regardless of however
this
plays out.”

King Lucius’s hand tightened on his throne. I could see him struggling to maintain composure.

Blayne took over for his father, trying to flatter the duke instead. “I recall you won quite a bit on a wager for Marius during your youth.”

“Yes.” Cassius didn’t bother to hide his contempt. “What can I say? A Pythian never loses.” His eyes stayed glued to the king’s. “We take our bets very seriously.”

“As do I.” Lucius’s words were ice. “And there is no surer bet than my son.”

It didn’t take much to recognize they were no longer talking about Darren or the Candidacy. The air was drowning in tension and neither the king nor the duke looked away. I wondered who would win: the brother of one of the most scrupulous kings in history, or our own?