The Black Mage: Candidate (2 page)

Darren and me. The night he told me he didn’t love me. Blayne laughing in my face while the fathomless prince watched, unfeeling, as my heart crumbled to a million pieces.

My fingers tingled, and I felt the warm static building in my arm. These were the memories I needed. Weather magic wasn’t like a normal casting: it was fueled by emotion. Extremities were best. And my years with Darren had certainly given me a large assortment to choose from:

“I told you not to trust a wolf. Because it would only ever want to break you… Haven’t you figured it out yet? I’m the wolf, Ryiah.”

A hot surge of anger leaped out of my core. I mentally harnessed the emotion and channeled its magic, letting the searing heat surge along my veins. Then, I released my casting.

A jolt of lightning struck Darren’s barrier and shattered it. There was a shrill, earsplitting noise as his casting splintered like glass.

Darren released his magic and sprinted across the platform, a magicked sword in each hand.

I sent out a large funnel of fire, but the prince crossed his arms mid-stride and the flames came barreling back. I had just enough time to duck to my left, and then a terrible smell met my nose. Bitter and burned.

I lifted a hand to my head. The fire had singed off part of my hair, just above my right ear.

When Darren came again I was ready. Ice shot out across the short distance between us and met with the prince’s swords. His metal froze over, webs of glistening frost spreading from the tip to the handle with a shrill crack.

Darren dropped his castings with a growl—nothing like the biting sting of frozen metal—and looked to his palms. They were now reddish-black.

I was torn between guilt and glee. I knew how they felt. I’d had that same casting done to me when I was an apprentice.

But I was here to win.

I barreled forward and prepared to end our duel with a knife to his neck. Or that was what I had planned. But, like usual, Darren was one step ahead of me.

The second the steel started to materialize in my hand Darren tackled me mid-stride.

Before I could get a good focus my casting disappeared—concentration broken by his attack—and we both hit the hard stone floor with a loud
thud
.

I felt the jarring impact in my side rather than the full at my back. I had somehow grappled my way so that Darren wasn’t quite pinning me flat—one leg in and one out.

Darren was trying to wrestle me to the floor, but I knew the second he had my shoulders the match was as good as over. I would never be able to break the full weight of his hold if I couldn’t push forward. I knew I would never win a contest with my arms—I simply didn’t have the mass—but that didn’t mean I couldn’t fool Darren into thinking I’d try. He and I had never fought in hand-to-hand combat, so I could only hope that meant he hadn’t been paying attention during my training in the apprenticeship.

Pretending to gasp, I made a huge deal out of struggling back and forth to break free. Darren took the bait. He leaned forward to pin me back and my second leg snaked free. It took me all of two seconds to dig my first heel into his hip and pivot to the side.

It was enough to give me some leverage against his weight.

I threw myself forward using the second leg to kick up and off the ground, rolling the prince underneath me. I was up.

But I was sitting too far back. Darren’s reflexes were too fast. Or maybe he had expected the move. His hips threw me, and I toppled forward, palms slapping the ground while he used the strength in his torso to flip-roll me back. Hard.

I landed on my back with a curse. My lungs were on fire, and I wasn’t sure I hadn’t broken something in that twist. White-hot pain was eating away at my ribs, and Darren had my arms pinned out onto the stone ground beneath me.

“Time to surrender, love. Don’t fault yourself, it’s not every day someone goes up against a first-rank mage.”

I grumbled a very unladylike word and Darren laughed, his whole body shaking.

“You are insufferable.”

Darren stopped and his eyes met mine. The look he gave me was enough to forget the terrible pain in my chest and bring on a whole different kind of heat. “Well, I don’t believe that for a second.”

Blood rushed my face as the prince leaned in.

“Admit it.” Darren’s mouth was close to my ear. “You aren’t suffering in the least...” His hand traced circles along the inside of my wrist. A rain of shivers followed wherever his fingers went. “
Are you
, Ryiah?”

I swallowed. For the first time I was conscious of the fact we were the only two in the room. And we were on the floor, which suddenly didn’t feel quite so uncomfortable and cold.

Not when he was looking at me like that. Like…

I had a sudden flashback to that day in his chambers two years before. To what had almost transpired the last time we had been truly alone.

Gods, I hadn’t been able to keep my hands to myself. And neither had he.

The memory was making me blush. Even now.

Darren noticed and his lips curved in a half-smile, his eyes hooded. “That’s what I thought.” The words closed the distance between us. I could detect the faint spiciness of his breath, like cinnamon and heat and
ice
. Something that was dangerous and dark and, to be honest, exactly what I wanted.

I knew we needed to treat our injuries, especially mine, but…

“If you are going to kiss me,” I said brazenly, “you should do it now.”

The corner of his lip turned up. “Oh, I intend to.”

“Really, because I’m still—”

Darren placed a tanned finger to my lips, eyes dancing. “I haven’t named the prize for our wager yet.”

That silenced me real quick.

“Ah, and I see I’ve finally rendered you speechless.” His smirk deepened. “And here I thought you would never—”

Before Darren could finish whatever taunt he had started, I dragged the prince down by the hem of his vest. His lips met mine, surprised, and for a moment everything was slow and languorous and sweet.

I could hear the unsteady beating of his pulse. The careful way he kissed me back had my vision swarming before my eyes. It might have been slow but my pulse was thundering inside my ears like a roar.

For once neither of us was rushed. There was nothing forbidden, nothing wrong, we had all the time in the world.

Darren’s fingers slipped into the back of my hair. I looked up at him and his eyes were smoldering. This was
us
. He stared back and for once there was no challenge, no sarcasm or smirk, just Darren. And me.

After so many years we were finally together.

His fingers trailed the side of my face and my skin burned underneath his touch.
Could a person catch fire and still live?
I wasn’t sure, but I thought the answer was yes.

His lips parted mine. I shut my eyes.

Dear. Gods.

“Ryiah…” His hand skimmed down the side of my waist…

And a startled cry fell from my lips.

Darren fell back with a start. “Are you—are you hurt?”

I pressed down on my stomach and bit back a long string of curses. Hot needle pricks flared in response. “My ribs.” I avoided his gaze and silently chastised the god of chance.
Now?
The pain could
not
have resurged at a more inconvenient time.

Or maybe it is exactly the right time
, my inner voice replied.
You know perfectly well what happened the last time the two of you got carried away…

I groaned loudly to cover up the rest of my thoughts. Tomorrow morning I was supposed to set out to Ferren’s Keep. I couldn’t very well do a two week trek on horseback where I would be in constant motion with broken ribs.

I tried to stand and doubled over in agony.

Darren was there in an instant. I swatted him away with a weak wave of the hand.

“I’m a Combat mage.” I stood and took a sharp lungful of air. “Not one of those damsels in distress you keep here at the palace.”

He raised an amused brow. “I never said you were.”

A scowl met his reply. “Tell that to the tutors your father ordered me for etiquette this week.”

“I can never win with you, can I?”

I rolled my eyes, but inside I was smiling. Outside, my mouth was plastered in a grimace. “Just take me to the infirmary.”

“So full of authority.” Darren joined me as I started toward the nearest passage. He pointed the direction we were to take. “And I believe I told you I would never carry you.”

I let him lead the way. “That was four years ago. And I’m not asking you to
carry
me—I just want your
company
.”

Darren flashed me a predator’s grin. “Well, don’t expect me not to gloat on the way over. Because despite your injuries, love, I do believe I have maintained my standing as a first-rank mage.”

I rolled my eyes. “For now.”

I heard his chuckle echo along the barren palace hall. It was disconcerting. Usually the king’s palace was filled to the brim with wandering courtiers, mages, off-duty knights, servants, and, of course, my favorite, his older brother by three years, Prince Blayne.

Luckily, today was not
most
days. The entire court—with the exception of a small sampling of its staff—had departed that morning for the yearly first-year trials at the Academy of Magic in Sjeka.

Traditionally the Crown—the king and his two sons—was supposed to attend, but Darren had been granted a leave of absence since his new service as a mage in the King’s Regiment was to begin at the week’s end.

The two of us continued on in a comfortable silence—well, as comfortable as it could be given my new injuries. It was nice. We had barely shared any time together since the ascension. After Darren had publicly declared our engagement most of his time had been stolen in long meetings with the king and his advisors, and I had been thrown into a parade of anxious courtiers eager to earn the favor of a future princess of Jerar.

King Lucius had not been thrilled with his son, and he definitely did not look favorably upon the former lowborn who had caused his son to make such a “reckless” decision in the first place. Darren and Princess Shinako of the Borea Isles had found a way to avoid their own impending marriages by promising her dowry to me in exchange for a renewed treaty between her island country and Jerar. It had been a brilliant move, and one no one had seen coming, but after the initial night of revelry there had been new problems to contend with.

There were many concerns about someone with my background taking on such a vital role within the Crown.

It didn’t matter that said role was purely ornamental since Darren would never be king. It didn’t matter that as an apprentice I had acquired a highborn status on my own. And it certainly didn’t matter that I was hopelessly in love with the boy.

What mattered was that I had ruined a very strategic match between Blayne and an important ally. Now King Lucius was stuck in negotiations with Pythus. As heir to the kingdom of Jerar, Blayne needed to marry above Darren. And since the Borea Isles’ princess’s dowry had already been promised to me, Blayne was forced to pursue a new match with one of King Joren’s daughters instead.

In truth, it was a great opportunity. The Borea Isles were a much smaller territory and couldn’t provide the resources a large continent like Pythus could offer. But try telling that to Blayne. Darren and he had been intended for quick marriages to secure their dowries’ funds as fast as possible, and now Blayne had to find a new wife. King Joren was a much shrewder man than Emperor Liang. It didn’t matter that the Crown needed as much support as it could get in order to go to war against its northern neighbor, Caltoth; to Blayne, I would always be the unruly lowborn who had managed to ruin all his plans.

And now he was determined to ruin mine. The very next morning after Darren’s and my engagement, Blayne had petitioned his father to hold off on our wedding until he secured his own. When Darren had tried to counter his brother’s absurd proclamation citing the impending war with Caltoth, the king had stiffly sided with his eldest, stating that the suggestion might motivate Darren to become more involved in Crown affairs. “
Beside
s,” he had added dryly, “
we need two dowries to finance an army, not one.”

I wasn’t sure I believed that. More likely, the king just wanted to punish Darren for the public humiliation he had faced the night of our ascension. Lucius had been all too willing to go along with his youngest son’s strategy until he found out the second half of the arrangement: marriage to a lowborn. Since the king had already agreed to Darren’s proposal and Emperor Liang’s treaty had specifically mentioned me by name there had been nothing the king could do. Not if he wanted to keep the princess’s dowry.

Needless to say, the last couple of days had not been pleasant. On the bright side, however, the king’s general distaste had an advantage. Since he could hardly stomach the idea of me in his court, Lucius had been more than willing to grant my petition for service in Ferren’s Keep. Darren hadn’t been pleased, but he knew just as well as I that once Blayne’s wedding passed I would be forced to take up permanent residency in the palace.

If anything, I think Darren envied my freedom. Now that he was done with his apprenticeship he was limited to the palace regiment. The same for me once that year was over.

It wasn’t a bad thing. The King’s Regiment was the most prestigious company in the land, and who could forget the palace housed the current Black Mage, Marius? But an eternity was daunting. Ferren’s Keep was my one chance at glory, and I hadn’t forgotten what the Combat mages said about its action: the northern border was the place to be.

We finished the ten-minute walk to the palace infirmary, and I was surprised to see two familiar persons already present as we turned the corner. The taller of the two, a young man with sandy-brown locks and easy blue eyes was chuckling at something the dark-skinned girl beside him had said.

Like most mages in the kingdom, neither wore their colored robes except for special occasions, but their status was still unmistakable. The two bore the air all newly ascended mages carried: one of barely contained excitement and pride. It was a sharp contrast to the calm of the palace healer in her red Restoration robe that greeted us upon entry.