“I love you.” And that’s never going to change. “I’ve been in love with you since that day in the desert, and today it’s time for me to make an apology of my own.” I leaned in close and watched his sharp intake of breath. “I’m sorry, Darren.” My eyes rose to his, and I willed him to see the sincerity in my own. “I’m sorry I said you were privileged. I’m sorry I ever thought… Blayne told me…” I swallowed. “If I had known...”
Understanding, and then shame flared in response—but before Darren could break away I wrapped my fingers along the back of his neck and brought his lips to my own. I pressed hard, tasting the regret and anger that was perforating his.
Blood and salt mixed in with the sweetness of wine and I clung still.
He tried to break our kiss. “Ryiah—”
I pushed back harder; he was air and I was drowning for breath. “No.” The word came sputtering from my chest. No. I wasn’t going to let Darren turn away now.
I wasn’t going to let his father win.
I kissed him again, a bit softer. Pleading. My lips brushed his, and I could feel his mouth trembling against my own. “I love you.” I whispered the words again. Over and over. “Please don’t shut me out.”
I felt it the exact moment Darren stopped fighting.
Tension left his shoulders, and the non-heir’s pulse sped up as his hands fisted in my skirt, pulling me in. Heated lips parted mine, and the kiss drove deep—neither one of us in control of our response. His eyes were shut, blocking out whatever memories he struggled to keep inside.
Darren’s hands slid to my waist and then he swung me around so that I was up against the wall instead. My back slammed against stone, and the rough material dug into my skin, his fingers bruising my ribs. His breath was hot and angry as his mouth assaulted my own. I welcomed it, a hot wave of fury bubbling in its wake.
Pain and passion were so much easier to embrace. I didn’t want to think about what the king had done to his two sons. I didn’t want to pity the brother who had attacked my best friend. I didn’t want to know how many times my betrothed had been pushed to the brink of death for the sake of his father’s cruel, twisted games.
I didn’t want to believe any of it.
All these years of coveting Darren’s life only to find out everything I thought was a lie. Did he even want to be the Black Mage at all? Or was it just another role he was expected to meet?
Expectation. That’s all this ever was.
I shut my eyes and tipped my chin, letting the prince’s anger take charge of the moment. Praying, hoping that I could take it all away if I just held on long enough.
But I never could. And I was foolish to try.
“I’m...” Darren broke the kiss a couple minutes later and pressed his forehead against my own. I watched the rise and fall of his chest. “I’m sorry I said—”
I cut him off. “You don’t have to explain.”
His eyes seared. “But I want to, Ryiah. All these years…” Another lump in his throat as he swallowed. “I never got to be anything but what he wanted me to be—”
“Darren—”
“I don’t even know who I am anymore.” His whisper was hoarse. “And I hate it.”
“What if you lose?” I studied his face, searching for a sign. “If you make it look like you are trying…?”
“He would know.” The prince’s laugh was bitter. “And he would punish me by taking away the only thing I’ve ever let myself be weak enough to want.” His gaze met mine and for once he didn’t hide. “It’s not the first time he’s used you against me.”
The world rushed around me as I realized exactly what he meant.
The first time he tried to call things off with Priscilla.
When I had called him his father’s whipping boy.
“Besides.” Darren pulled away to rest against the wall beside me, shoulder to shoulder. He looked out at the night sky above. “With every second of my life devoted to this cursed role, a part of me wants it now… I’m so mad in the head I can’t imagine a future in which the robe isn’t.”
I didn’t know how to reply.
Darren took my hand, folding my fingers into his own. “If anyone beats me, I want it to be you, Ryiah.”
I shut my eyes and sighed. “Perhaps the gods will surprise us and it will be neither.”
“A true tragedy,” he agreed.
“Of epic proportions.”
His smile was just the faintest line in the shadows. “Two longstanding rivals.”
“And only one robe to bear.”
“Who will win?” Darren’s tone was wry. “The handsome prince?”
I grinned. “Or his valiant betrothed?”
“I can’t wait to marry you, Ryiah.”
When I opened my eyes, Darren was watching me with the oddest gleam in his eyes. The soft expression in his gaze… it hurt to breathe.
Then a devious thought worked its way to the surface. “Even if I win?”
The prince’s expression faltered, and then the boy from the Academy returned with a smirk. “Even if you lose.”
Chapter Eleven