Last Stand (The Black Mage #4)(98)

Alex couldn’t look at me as he picked up where Ella left off. “The advisors needed someone to satisfy the rebel leaders and the influential families of court. She was the best choice.”

Priscilla belonged to the house with the greatest wealth. The most power. It was why Darren’s father had arranged a betrothal so many years before.

“But she served the Crown’s Army, why wouldn’t the rebels object?”

“Baron Langli passed away the week before Jerar went to war. Priscilla never got to fight.” Ella looked bitter. “Her hands are clean. She never took rebel lives. We have no other suitable candidates except you…”

And they would never agree to it. I may have fought for the rebels, but I’d betrayed their plans in the end. I was the wife of a traitor king.

And there it was. My nemesis, the girl who had always wanted the crown, was going to end up a queen.

I had never seen it coming.

“I need to talk to her now.” My jaw was hard. As soon as Priscilla heard my case, she would pardon Darren for his crimes. I’d make sure of it.

“You think she’ll listen to you?” Ella bit her lip. “Ryiah, she hates you. Perhaps we should—”

“She’s not who we thought.” I met my friend’s gaze confidently with my own. “Trust me, Priscilla will listen.”

The girl wasn’t a tyrant like Blayne. There were parts of her I admired.

“If that’s what you really want…”

I nodded and braced my palms against the bed, trying hard not to wince as pain shot up my arms like knives.

Alex made a sound in the back of his throat. “You’re not ready.”

“I don’t care.”

“We’ve got a week—”

“Alex.” Ella cut my brother off with a disapproving scowl. “Would you wait a week for me?”

My brother’s face fell. I knew he wanted me to rest, but he couldn’t argue with that.

And so we began our walk.



*

We found Priscilla at the highest turret overlooking the keep.

She looked different somehow. Or perhaps this was who she was always intended to be.

Her spine was erect, shoulders straight. Dressed in a blood red gown and lace with her hair pinned up, long ebony locks curled slightly against the back of her neck, Priscilla looked every bit a highborn queen.

A queen with Darren’s fate in her hands.

She was deep in conversation with Quinn and two Crown advisors I vaguely recognized from my life at the palace in Devon.

As soon as we arrived, the others’ attention flitted to the stairs where my brother and friend supported me between their arms.

Quinn choked at the sight. “Ryiah—”

“Don’t.” My brother took a step forward, snarling. “Don’t you dare address my sister after what you did.”

“Quinn is here on my orders.” Priscilla’s curt voice cut off my twin’s reply. “He is not yours to command.”

Alex started to grumble, and my nails dug into his arm. I needed the girl to listen, and I wasn’t sure where we stood.

The future queen fixated on my face. “I had no idea you were awake.”

“Please.” My voice was strained—it had taken a great deal of effort to climb those steps, and I was dangerously close to collapse. “Can we have an audience… alone?”

Priscilla didn’t even hesitate. Apparently I had risen in her esteem after my latest trip to the infirmary. “Quinn, you, Fletcher, and Claudius are dismissed.”

It was the first time Priscilla had ever treated me with something I would almost deem as respect.

The mage and two elderly men scowled in passing, but I kept my gaze locked on the queen. I wasn’t sure I could acknowledge the former knowing he gave the orders to bury me alive. It might have been the best decision for Jerar, but it was also the reason Darren and I had nearly died.

I waited until they were gone. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” Priscilla made a flippant gesture with her hand and smirked. “Now why are you three here? I trust it was not to congratulate me on my upcoming coronation.”

“It wasn’t.”

Priscilla raised a brow at Ella. “And I see you haven’t changed one bit.”

“You made my best friend miserable for years.”

“She was a threat. She understands. Don’t you, Ryiah?”

I nudged Ella who was busy spitting back a reply. “Let her be.”

My best friend ground her teeth but didn’t speak again.

“You are to be queen.”

Priscilla lifted her chin. “You aren’t getting my crown.”

“I don’t want it. I need you to pardon Darren for his crimes.”

Ten seconds went by and nobody spoke. I watched as her expression went from disbelieving to incredulous.

“You are joking.”

“It’s not what—”

“You were a rebel,” Priscilla sputtered. “You know what he and his family did. Quinn told me everything… Gods, Darren had patrols hunting you, Ryiah. I know you always were a little slack-jawed where that boy was concerned, but I should think the moment he tried to kill you, you’d finally grow some sense.”