The Black Mage: Candidate (38 page)

That first night, after he was caught.
I could have done something
. I would have been caught, of course, and tossed in a cell to rot. But Darren would have convinced Blayne to spare my life.

And
I
could have let my brother live.

But instead I had called my own brother a traitor. I had blamed him for not telling me everything about the rebels’ orders.
And why would he?
He’d known the Crown was tainted. He had suspected the wrong brother, but he had been close.

Why didn’t I listen?
The answer had been staring me in the face the entire time.

Blayne was evil. What he had tried to do to Ella, the way he had treated me when he thought I was just a distraction…

I had known all along. I had known, and then I had looked the other way. Because the black wolf had dressed up like a white lamb. And the fool that I was, I had seen the wolf become the lamb and never bothered to wonder whether the one was still the other. Because a person couldn’t ever be good and evil at once.

Little girl, don’t you know? The world is made up of shades of grey.

I was one of the few people who had served on that mission to Caltoth, and I was the
only
one who had seen Tamora at the stands in Montfort. I had even seen the way the Caltothian ambassador looked at her and the prince. No one else could have added up those two clues but me.

I had condemned my little brother to death. My family was right to hate me.
I
hated me.

The pain I had suffered after his death: the agony, the torment, the rage, and self-flagellation.
The guilt.

It was nothing compared to this moment now.

But it was also different. Because this time I couldn’t be a victim. I couldn’t be the little girl who shut out the world. I couldn’t break apart any longer. I had to do something. And I knew exactly what I had to do.

I had to keep Darren and Marius from finding out the rebels’ identity. Blayne had given them orders to investigate, and it would be my mission to sabotage.

I had to find the proof the rebels were looking for. Anything I could use to prevent a war.

I had to gather as much information as I could. My position in the Crown granted me access to things that would raise questions were it anyone else. I had proven my loyalty time and time again—even Blayne had agreed with Darren. I was not a rebel; I was not a threat.
But I was now.

I had to convince the Pythian ambassador not to honor the alliance with Jerar. He had seen me try to save his niece, he had respected my negotiations—he would have to convince King Joren.

And then. Then I had to find a way to stop the king of Jerar.

My fist closed around the dagger. The casting had appeared at a moment’s notice.

I could kill him now
. Darren wouldn’t be able to stop me. He wouldn’t be on his guard. He wouldn’t be able to save his brother…

A rage was boiling in the pit of my stomach and spewing to the surface, deadly tendrils of anger piercing at my ribs. My fist clenched the blade so tightly that blood had started to slip down my wrist. Small splatters of red against the skirts of my dress.

It would be so easy. I could do it now.

But I couldn’t. For the same reason Blayne couldn’t kill me.

Darren.

Darren didn’t know about any of this. He didn’t know what his brother had done. He didn’t know what Blayne was capable of. He didn’t know his brother had set fire to the world. Just so he could watch it burn.

All he knew was he loved him. That he had watched his older brother suffer blow after blow, and that he had been the one to save him. King Lucius had raised Darren as Blayne’s right hand.

As twisted as the king might have been, he had been wise beyond his years. The best way to preserve the throne was to encourage unswerving loyalty in the other, and what better way to unite two brothers than through terror and hate? Like his eldest, Lucius had planned their relationship all along.

Preserving his son’s reign.

And perhaps,
perhaps
Lucius had even seen it coming. From a tyrant, another tyrant had been born.

That day I had begged and pleaded for my brother, hoping beyond hope Blayne wasn’t his father.

Blayne was crueler.

I should have been hoping it was his father, and not Blayne, staring back.

****

The ladies-in-waiting returned for finishing touches before the ceremony began. Pollina was aghast to see the fresh stains on my skirts and my fist.

I told them I fell. That the bones of the corset had been too tight. After all, they had found me on the floor. The tears in my eyes? Just from losing my breath.

I was nothing more than an anxious girl before she married the boy of her dreams.

Even though inside I was nothing but screams.

You will lose him.

As soon as the thought entered my mind, I knew it was true.

I couldn’t tell him. Even if Darren believed me, he would insist on confronting his brother. And his brother was king. Blayne would have me beheaded at a moment’s notice. I might stand a chance against a small collective of mages, but an army?

And what proof did I have?
Nothing.
I had no papers, no witness, nothing but a memory of a little girl with a slip of yellow ribbon in her hair.

Darren had never seen that little girl in the stands. He’d only seen the ambassador.

Everything else was a miles-long conclusion that would sound like the ranting of a madwoman determined to clear her brother’s name.

And Blayne was
his
brother. Darren wouldn’t be able to keep a secret or turn against him. Even when I had believed Derrick capable of putting thousands of future lives at risk,
I had still let him escape
. I had still chosen him.

And Darren would choose Blayne.

I would lose Darren. By keeping these secrets, by turning a traitor, by ultimately betraying the Crown… I would lose.
But sometimes the sacrifice is worth the cost.

My cost would be Darren.

I would keep him safe. From the rebels. From Blayne. From myself—except for my lies. And when this was all over. When we had his brother in chains and the country was safe from his family’s tyrannous plague.

Then I would fall to my hands and knees. And I would beg his forgiveness.

And maybe,
someday
, we could be that boy and girl he talked about. And we would leave this all behind.

****

I entered the ceremonial chamber, and the sun’s rays caught on my dress.

The glow of butter-yellow against scarlet-red locks and steel-gray eyes.

Down the row I walked, head held high as I strode across to the priest.

My eyes were locked on the tapestry behind him. It depicted a king in a gilded chair, a crown atop his head and a hematite pendant at his throat. With a man in ceremonial black robes at his right. His Black Mage.

The king and his right hand.
Blayne and Darren.

My slippers glided along the soft carpet lining the walk, and it was only as I reached the end that I let myself look to my left.

Darren stood there. His face a wash of emotion. Ink-black, jaw-length locks and garnet eyes—everything I had ever loved. In his robe. Just like the tapestry.

He held a hand out as I climbed to the top of the dais.

The priest garbled on, almost incoherent in his speech. And then he stopped. He dipped his thumb into a bowl of crimson wine and pressed once along my forehead, and then once along the prince’s.

He issued a prayer.

And my eyes slid to the king waiting below, a cruel smile painting his mouth, his soul stained red with the blood of hundreds. Every life lost in the name of the Crown.

I wasn’t sure how I had missed it before. It was the same smile I had seen countless times over the last year, only this time I could see it for what it was.

Evil. Corruption. Greed.

“Do you, Prince Darren, First Prince to Jerar and Black Mage to the Crown, take the Lady Mage Ryiah of Demsh’aa, as your wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward and keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I do.” Darren’s voice rang out across the hall. His whisper after was enough to bring me back, and break me. “
Always.”

“And do you, Lady Mage Ryiah of Demsh’aa, take Prince Darren, First Prince to Jerar and Black Mage to the Crown, as your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward and keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

My hands were trembling as I made myself look left and into the eyes of the boy I would betray.

“
I do.”

The End

About the Author

Rachel E. Carter is a young adult author who hoards coffee and books. She has a weakness for villain and bad boy love interests. When not writing, she is usually reading, and when not reading she is usually asleep. To her, the real world is Hogwarts and everything else is a lie.

The Black Mage
is Rachel’s first YA fantasy series, with many more to come. She loves to interact with fellow readers & aspiring writers

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Prologue

James sighs as he sits at his table in the Pink Dragon Inn, located in the northern human nation of Galamine. The inn is a venerable establishment that has been around for generations and was where James had decided to stop to avoid the threatening storm that James had witnessed rolling in a few hours earlier. James had already ordered and paid for his dinner, a plate of spiced potatoes with pork sausage, and now he had several hours before his usual bedtime. What James could choose to do with his free time, however, was fairly limited. While the inn is venerable it lacks a permanent bard or any other sort of musical entertainment.

James sits there, contemplating possibly returning to his room to retire early, when the door opens up and in steps a rare sight of a shabby-looking elf. Gray cascading hair flows to the traveler’s stooped shoulders in tangled knots and he walks with an oak walking staff in his hand. The elf’s feet are bare and blackened from what was likely years’ worth of travel dust, and his traveling cloak looks to be in much the same heavily worn condition. At the stranger’s hip is a semi-bulky bag. What makes the stranger stand out are the pointed ears and slightly pointed chin that give him away as being Elven. Elves are extremely rare this far north, and to see one definitely piques James’s interest.

The elf stands in the open doorway for a few moments before closing it and looking about the inn. The majority of his face is covered by his long grizzled hair but it is obvious he is looking for something. After a moment he turns his head toward James and grins widely. His steps are slightly halting, likely from old age, as he makes his way to James’s table and takes a seat opposite James and takes his bag off and sets it next to him. “
Galoric ettin foron yung,
” the elf says in the Elven language, still smiling.

For a moment James remains silent before responding in the common language, “I’m sorry, but I don’t speak Elven.”

“Oh, my apologies. I said, ‘Good morning, young child,’” the Elf says as if he had spoken it in the common language in the first place. James blinks for a moment as the elf simply stares at James through his grizzled mass of hair, though James cannot see the face hidden by the locks.

“Do I know you, Elf?” James asks as the elf leans his stick against the wall and seems to relax into the chair.

“Not yet, but you will soon enough. I’ve traveled a long distance to meet you here tonight,” the elf says as James’s eyebrows rise, unsure what he means. James had made no plans to meet with anyone, least of all an elf, along his journeys. With a gentle wave the elf waves over the bartender and orders a bottle of Elven wine and two glasses. The drink is normally very expensive, but when the elf pays with a gold sovereign James cannot help but wonder about him.

“You say you’ve traveled a long way to meet me. What is it you’ve come to meet me for?” James says to the elf as he takes a sip of the fine berry wine that is soon placed before him. The elf simply grins for a few moments before digging into his bag and pulling out a rough leather-bound tome. The text is bound in brown leather and looks to have been burned partially at some point. The elf places the book upon the table and says, “I have traveled a long way to tell a story, one that has been left untold for far too long.”

James blinks for a moment, wondering if this is some kind of joke, but he suddenly realizes by the elf’s tone that he was being completely serious. “Why are you telling this story to me? I’m no one special, just a simple traveler,” James says as he looks at the tome, wondering what the elf has planned.

“You might be just a simple traveler now, but the fates led me to you for a reason.” James doesn't have much of a clue what this elf is talking about, but he figures he will hear this story at the very least as a way to pass the time.