Last Stand (The Black Mage #4)
Rachel E. Carter
To Craig,
Because you’re so much more than a memory.
You were the goodness inside that most of us push aside as we grow older, the kind of light we don’t deserve, the kind of hero we only read about in books. You saw beauty and joy in everything, and you were first to believe in the best of us.
The world never deserved you, but you deserved the world.
You once told me you couldn’t bear the idea of cremation because you needed a place to cherish the memories of those you loved, that you didn’t want their memories to fade over time. Your parents built you a beautiful headstone, and this book is my plaque for you. This dedication is my way to make your memory eternal, a way to tell the world exactly what kind of person they lost.
I’ve been waiting nine years to write your name. Craig LeAron Cagley Short. This book is for you, because if anyone ever deserved a happily ever after, it was you.
RIP Craig LeAron Cagley Short (1987-2007)
Map of Jerar & Surrounding Kingdoms
1
It was supposed to be the best day of my life.
The noise was deafening. Cheers, clapping and thunderous applause, even hysterical weeping came from Jerar’s most privileged families as they shared in a moment that they believed would save them all from the Caltothians’ tyrannous plague.
If only they knew it was all a lie.
I forced my lips into a shaky smile, my heart fluttering like a thousand wings against my throat.
The prince’s eyes met mine across the small podium we were standing on. For a moment, that was all I needed to hold on, and I was able to exhale. The corner of his eyes crinkled as he took in the expression on my face. I’m sure he imagined it was due to the hematite crown the priest had just placed upon my head.
Darren had no reason to question my fear.
The prince reached out to pull me forward by the nook of my arm, slowly, until there was no space left to cross. His eyes held mine as his other hand took my trembling chin and tilted it up.
My skin burned under the pads of his callused fingers. I didn’t have a choice. I caught fire every time.
His breath was warm as he leaned in so that his lips brushed my ear. “And now to kiss my beautiful bride.”
Darren’s mouth found mine, tasting of hot cinnamon and cloves, and for a moment… for a moment, I forgot. And the girl let herself melt into her prince’s embrace; she kissed him back, letting that elation rise up in her chest, her cheeks flushing crimson as he dipped her low and proceeded to kiss her so thoroughly, a second applause rang out from the crowd.
And she was happy. In this beautiful, perfect moment, she was soaring.
The girl had her happily ever after. She had the boy she loved, and it was all she would ever need.
Hundreds of petals rained down from above.
“Long live the Crown!”
And the moment their voices rang out, that girl disappeared. Elation was met with shame. Guilt. Self-hate and flagellation. Shards of glass twisted in my gut, and I jerked back from the kiss, nearly stumbling down the steps in shame.
I couldn’t pretend. Not when I knew our future was a tangle of lies, and that he would never look at me the same when he discovered the truth.
“Careful, dear sister…” Icy fingers wrapped around my wrist. They were all that kept me from plummeting into the crowd below.
It took everything I had not to react, to remain silent and still when every part of me was writhing in a storm cloud of red. It was him.
The king of Jerar. The young boy whose tragedy had made him the worst man of all.
My hands trembled and the white-hot rage boiled, threatening to sputter out. In another second, I wouldn’t be able to stop—
“Ryiah?” Darren’s voice caught me just in time.
The king of Jerar let out a laugh as he handed me back. I was still shaking, my pulse thundering in my ears. “A bit of shock. She just became a princess of Jerar, brother. What else would you expect?”
I barely felt Darren’s hand slip around my waist as he helped me down the final step. “I know it’s a bit much,” he whispered. His words called me back, twisting and weaving their way across the chains that had taken hold of my lungs. “I’m sorry.”
I wanted to tell him I was too, but my tongue was too heavy to lift.
All I could see was my little brother’s lifeless body sprawled out against the marble tile and the look on Alex’s face when I told him Derrick was dead.
The priest’s loud declaration brought me back to the present: “And now to present the Crown Prince and Princess of Jerar. Together, for the first time, as husband and wife.”
I made myself breathe. And swallow. And then I made myself move, one foot, then the other, as the prince and I traversed the great hall.
It was supposed to be a beautiful fairy tale.
But there would be no happily ever after.
*
As the Crown’s carriage paraded down the streets of Devon, I did my best to mirror Darren and Blayne’s gestures with my own. Courtier smiles and nods to all. It was an acknowledgment and a promise. I saw it in the hundreds of eager faces shoved into every alley and shop, waving hands and throwing seeds and chanting blessings at every corner we passed. Their hope was contagious. Even the ones hiding behind their dirty windowpanes, I could see it shining there too, past tight lines of worry and fear. It was a great beacon driving them to look and stare.