Apprentice (The Black Mage, #2)(35)

"Well now you've done it." Ian grinned at Marius. "She won't be able to talk all night."

The Black Mage was being called away by the other two Council members. He sighed wearily. "Politics again… I apologize to you both but I must return to my Council." His eyes crinkled as they fell on me. "I hope this isn't the last time we talk, dear Ryiah. I look forward to hearing your accomplishments as the years progress… perhaps my status will seem a little less daunting then." Then the man gave a final nod to the both of us and disappeared into the crowd.

"I have never seen you speechless." Ian was watching me with wonder.

I made a face and shoved him gently. "You've never put me in front of my idol before, either."

Ian caught my arm and his hand lingered on it just a moment too long. "Meet me in the library." There was a hunger in his eyes that sent a stampede of sparks stammering across my chest. "No one will be in that drafty old place – not with the feast going on all night out here."

I had to remind myself to breathe, and when I finally did, butterflies were flooding my spine, from the top of my neck to the tip of my toes. It was the feeling I had every time Ian touched me - every time he whispered that he want to see me alone. We hadn't had many opportunities in our constant deployment – but here at the palace…

"I-I'll leave in a minute," I stuttered. "There's just something I have to do first."

"Don't take too long."

The words brought another rush of heat and I flushed. "I won't."

As soon as Ian had left the room my memory returned and I inspected the room, searching for the one person I needed to speak with. I spotted him through the great doors that led through to the grand balcony. While many of the palace chambers hosted small patios of their own, only the main ballroom had views as stunning as the one below. It faced north – directly into the dense mountains below which reminded me of home in its green majesty.

Beside him was her. Wearing a splendid dress of lavender and yellow lace she looked like she belonged here: the future princess of Jerar. Priscilla's brown hair was done up in the latest fashion, small tendrils escaping an elaborate twist, held high by rusted gold clips.

I watched the two of them for a moment – the dark-haired non-heir and his betrothed. Neither looked happy, and from the way Priscilla's lips kept moving I suspected they were arguing. I watched as the girl thrust her drink glass into his hands and stormed off. Darren watched her go with a weary expression.

I hesitated. This probably wasn't the best time to approach him. The non-heir had been acting strange all week… but after hearing what the Black Mage had said earlier I felt a responsibility to seek him out.

Praying that the prince wasn't in a foul mood – as he'd appeared to be every day this week - I approached him on the crowded dais. "Darren?"

The young man spun around, shoulders rigid.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you..."

Instead of looking to me the prince scanned the crowd behind us. After a moment the tension left his shoulders and his eyes met mine, seemingly relieved.

"I talked to the Black – I talked to Marius. He said you gave me most of the credit for that mock battle in Ishir." I swallowed. "You didn't have to, it was mostly you…"

"I don't give credit unless it's due." Darren's lips held the faintest trace of a smile. "You already know this."

My cheeks burned and I forced myself to continue. "It means a lot – to have him think so highly of me. He's the best mage there is."

"Ryiah." Darren's eyes seemed to gleam in the setting sun. "You have such a low opinion of yourself, but you have no idea what the rest of us think of you already."

"But Master Byron-"

The prince's eyes flashed. "The man is an idiot."

"But he's a master!"

"You can be a great man and still be a fool. Many of our country's leaders can attest to that. Were they still living."

"That's your great grand-parents you are alluding to." I couldn't keep the grin from my face.

Darren sighed. "Unfortunately yes. And they are not alone. People make mistakes all the time – some of us just are in more of a position to leave an impact when we do."

"Have you talked to your father and brother about what happened in Mahj?"

The prince gripped the railing tightly and I could see the white knuckles beneath.

"I'm sorry," I began, "I shouldn't have-"

"They want me to leave the apprenticeship." His words were quiet, angry. "They said it is too much of a risk for me to continue."

"You can't leave!"

"I told them I'm not." He hesitated and then looked to me, suddenly unsure. "You don't think I'm making a mistake? That maybe I shouldn't? Because of Caine?"

"Caine died protecting someone worth saving!" I burst. "Of course you should stay! People want to see their prince fighting with them!"

"But maybe I just put us at more risk."

"Those rebels would have fought us whether you were there or not." I reached down to grab his wrist, ignoring the telltale spark that shot through me as I did, adding earnestly: "You are one of the best apprentices we have! We need you to fight with us – not hide out in some palace like a sheltered pr-" I cut myself off, uncomfortably aware of how close I had come to insulting the Crown. It was treason to even say what I'd already started.