Candidate (The Black Mage #3)

Darren gave me a pitying look. “Believe me, Ryiah, a man can carry the sentiment a lot longer than that.”

I folded my arms. “Darren, Ian grew up in Ferren. His parents are blacksmiths there.” He had never once indicated feelings of any kind, and he had been as surprised as I when I arrived at the keep.

“And yet you felt guilty enough to hide his presence?” The prince’s expression was dubious.

I balked in offense. “I wasn’t hiding anything! My younger brother Derrick is there, too. Do you think I am hiding him?”

“I’m not a fool, Ryiah.” Darren scowled. “I trust you but that lowborn’s timing cannot be overlooked.”

I glared at the prince. “Ian has never lied to me. He has been open and honest with his intentions since the day we met. Perhaps you are confusing his motivations with your own.” I pointed a finger at the non-heir accusingly. “You were the one who pursued me after Ian and I got together, not the other way around—in this context only one of you has ever behaved honorably and it hasn’t been you.”

Darren recoiled as if he’d been slapped. “I apologize for not being as honorable as him,” he snapped. “Not all of us had farmboy’s freedom to choose.”

“Darren, that’s not what I meant.” I scrambled forward to grab his wrist before he could storm out of the chamber. “Please.” I took a deep swallow. “Please believe me when I tell you that you have nothing to worry about.”

Darren’s expression softened. “I can have your brother stationed at the palace if that is what you wish.”

“I want to return to the keep, Darren.”

“Stay.” Darren weaved his fingers into my own. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

I took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s not the same. The Crown takes precedence here. You can’t serve abroad. I’ve seen how little time you’ve had to yourself—even you have fallen behind in your training.”

Darren released me and fell back in reproach. “I haven’t fallen behind!”

“And maybe I’m wrong.” I quickly retracted my words. “I just don’t want to squander my chance of winning the Candidacy.”

“Winning?” Darren arched a brow. “Love, I hardly think you need to worry about that.”

My face turned to flames, and before I could stop myself the words came spilling from my lips. “Why? Because you are the only one who can?”

“I believe you are a great mage, Ryiah.”

“But I’ll never be as good as you, is that it?”

The back of his neck was tinged red. “I never said that.”

I placed my hands on my hips. “You didn’t deny it either.”

Darren folded his arms and met my gaze head on. “This isn’t some game, Ryiah.”

“Some game?” Hot rage sputtered from my lips before I could stop. “How can you even say that?”

“Admit it, love.” His expression was dark. “The people who choose this career don’t do it for honor, they choose it for power. Prestige. The chance to make a name for themselves.”

I dropped his hand angrily. “And what makes you so different?”

“Expectation. I’ve spent a lifetime training for the role.”

Darren’s pride was so great he wouldn’t even acknowledge the possibility of me winning.

I swung my pack up over my shoulder. After everything we had been through Darren still managed to find just the right way to cut like a knife. There were words bubbling inside, words I knew I shouldn’t say but just then I wanted to hurt him. To hurt him like he had just hurt me. “You know the difference between a prodigy and a prince, Darren?”

His mouth formed a thin, hard line.

“You can have the best training, the best tutors, the private lessons during the apprenticeship with Master Byron, everything that the rest of us—even the highborns—never had.” My voice caught and I forced myself to continue, eyes blazing. “But none of that guarantees you a victory. None of that makes you a prodigy. It just means you were privileged.”

A flare of anger. “You have no idea what it’s like—”

I cut him off, a new surge of indignation rising to the surface. “You know what? You are right. I probably won’t win the Black Robe. But at least I will earn my place in that tourney. You? Well, you’ll never know. Because a boy with the world at his feet? He’s never truly earned anything.”

“Better to be the boy with the world at his feet than the reckless lowborn who wouldn’t amount to anything without my help.” Darren’s snarl was the last thing I heard before the door slammed shut in my face.

He didn’t come back to apologize. I know because I waited. After fifteen minutes of hating myself, Paige burst through the door.

The knight ignored my red-rimmed eyes and started to drag me by the arm toward the castle exit.

Rachel E. Carter's books