Last Stand (The Black Mage #4)(34)

Ever since the Candidacy, I had fallen behind. First from jealousy, then in mourning, and most lately from a lack of caring. Darren was the Black Mage, and I was just the girl trailing behind. What did it matter whether I continued to be second best?

All that hard work and where had it gotten me?

Deep down, there was a truth plaguing my heart, but I was not about to face it now. Instead, I threw myself into the duel. I shut out emotion and breathed the adrenaline, feeling the surge of blood and heat as my aching muscles warmed to the familiar drill at hand.

Paige was an excellent swordswoman, but I hadn’t spent the whole of my training on casting alone. There was a reason mages were considered elite warriors, even without their magic. Years of training had given me a reason to brush past the pain, to push myself where others might have quit.

Five more minutes passed.

And then finally I caught a break.

Our swords shattered on impact, shards of metal in a flurry of silver as the two of us ducked and tumbled to the ground. I didn’t have a moment to recover; it was Paige’s brawny arms against mine. The two of us locked in a hold that only one could win.

The snow was icy cold, biting into my skin even with the tunic and vest. Everything was slippery and wet.

My limbs quivered, I could feel that familiar quake in my arms. Another minute and I would give under the strength of her weight. I was helpless and I hated it. I was so sick of losing.

“Surrender?”

For a moment, I stopped seeing my friend. I saw Blayne’s hands pinning me in place. A cruel smile played across pale lips as he tilted my head, forcing me to watch as Derrick and his friend limped down the dark castle hall.

Mira appears, throwing her head back as she laughs. A flare of white lights up the room.

I writhe against the king’s grip and my foot catches against a small catch in the tile. I throw my weight, everything I have, and roll hard. My right shoulder roars in protest and a white-hot pain tears up along my arm.

Suddenly the pain stops and the weight ceases.

Blayne slams against the marble. His head hits the floor with a crack, lolling to the side. A small trickle of scarlet puddles just underneath, staining the marble as I stare.





“Ryiah!” Two hands jerked me back. The biting pain returned as I fell into something wet and numbingly cold.

My vision blurred and I blinked rapidly, watching as the king dematerialized and my guard took his place. I wasn’t in the palace hall; I was outside in the barracks’ arena. I was sprawled back in the snow as Darren knelt in front of Paige, calling for help as blood seeped beneath her amber braid. Her eyes were shut and her chest was rapidly rising and falling beneath her vest.

“Paige…” My tongue was so heavy, the words faltered and fell. “I-is she g-going t-to—”

I blinked and a pair of healers were suddenly beside the prince, carefully using their hands to trace the knight’s injuries. Their magic sparked a gentle green, slipping just under the skin as she groaned.

Darren took a step back and found his way to me. Dark hair fell across his face, making his eyes unreadable. “She’ll be fine. Ryiah, you have to be more careful.”

Even as the Restoration mages worked their magic, my eyes remained glued to the russet snow just beneath Paige’s head. It was growing darker as I stared.

I couldn’t believe what I had almost done. What I could have done, had Darren not pulled me away.

“I-I didn’t m-mean…” I tried to sit up and a sharp pain flared, sending me back against the icy snow.

“You dislocated your shoulder.” Darren’s hand caught my wrist before I could try to move again. “You need to wait for a healer.” The prince’s voice lowered to almost a whisper. “What happened, Ryiah? One moment you were fine, and the next…” His breath rattled. “It was like you were a different person.”

I could never tell the truth. “I wanted to win.”

Darren made a frustrated sound through his teeth.

Better the prince thought me reckless than a girl driven by hate. I had stopped seeing my friend in that duel. All my helpless rage had channeled a manifestation of his brother instead. I’d been willing to kill.

I would have killed, had he not stopped me.

A palm pressed against the small of my back and my tongue rammed against my teeth. It was as if someone had taken a chain and twisted it around my ribs, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. Vaguely, I heard the prince thanking the healer as their casting began to knit itself under my skin.

“Your eyes—” Darren started and then stopped. I knew exactly what he was unable to say. Three months of carrying this horrible truth. It was a festering poison inside. It was making me helpless and angry and guilty and desperate.

It was making me a different person.



*

That night I found myself in the kennels.

Paige was recovering, taking the rest of the day to rest in the infirmary. I’d tried to apologize earlier, but she wouldn’t have it.

“Why are you sorry?” she’d demanded. “I didn’t take that hit as I should. You’re a warrior not a healer, stop coddling me.” She’d thrown me out with a stiff reprimand to stop “feeling sorry” for myself.

How could I tell her it wouldn’t have mattered, that I wouldn’t have stopped? That everyone needed to stop trusting me. I was a liar, and I was weak, and apparently all it would take was one moment of feeling helpless for me to hurt someone I cared about without a second thought.