“Your parents are merchants, no?” The question was a deadly promise. “Perhaps I can call on them first.”
My stomach caved in on itself as cold panic flooded my veins. My nails dug into Darren’s wrist, and it took every ounce of willpower I had to keep my magic at bay.
“That’s not necessary, Father.” Darren’s grip tightened on my own. “She didn’t mean anything.”
“You might be too valuable.” The king ignored his son to watch me like a hawk. “But your family is not. Do you understand, Lady Ryiah?”
“Y-yes.” The word was barely more than a gasp. But inside every part of me was on fire. Wren caught my other hand in hers and squeezed.
“I have been patient with your stay thus far, but rest assured I won’t hesitate to hold your family accountable for your actions.”
A servant scurried past with the first round of refreshments for our box.
“Might I be excused, your majesty?” The words felt so heavy, my pulse beating against my throat.
“You have five minutes,” the king growled. “Then I expect you back in your seat and cheering our nation’s legacy.”
I fled the box as fast as my legs could carry me.
“Ryiah, wait!” Darren caught up to me outside of the stands. I was gripping the stadium’s back wall for support and trying not to think about what was going on on the other side of it. Paige was pacing at my right.
“I can’t do it, Darren. I can’t watch.” There was no way I could go back and sit silently as men and women bled out for the mere notion of a contest. I couldn’t pretend.
“You can’t voice your disapproval over the Candidacy, he’ll—”
“I didn’t know it was going to be like this!”
What if the healers didn’t treat their victims in time? The judges wouldn’t interfere until each rank’s hour was up. It was the first thing the herald had declared at the start of the day’s event.
Darren waited until the stadium’s clamor fell to a hush. “He changed it, Ryiah.”
“W-what?”
The prince took a step closer, taking a look around and pausing when his gaze landed on our guards. Paige rolled her eyes and retreated to the wall’s exit, with Darren’s knight in tow—the both of them still close enough to jump in at the first sight of danger.
Darren spoke softly. “The old Candidacies still used prisoners for Restoration and Alchemy, but the worst malady was a broken limb, not… this. My father was the one who changed the rules.”
I shrank back in disgust.
“It was one of the first things he did after my mother passed. Treating his own criminals to this as the emissaries watch… he wanted to send a message to any country foolish enough to break with Jerar. I thought you knew—you read all those books when we were first-years in the library.”
“But…” I must have missed them. “I read about Combat.”
“Combat stayed the same.” Darren’s contempt was quiet. “Our faction’s tourney is already violent enough. But Restoration? Alchemy? The old Candidacies were far too tame for his liking. My father wanted blood.”
****
Forfeit.
When they raised the white flag ten minutes into my brother’s round, I prayed my eyes were playing tricks on my mind. But I had seen all of the signs.
The white face, the trembling hands, the heavy perspiration shining along his skin. The way Alex had swallowed as he watched the twelve soldiers lead their twelve criminals out across the field.
The look of naked horror when one had knocked the old man to the ground. The way the prisoner had bawled from the pain. The way my twin had dove to the man’s side and whispered something into his ear, hands anxiously feeling out the injury for the break.
Alex had treated the man’s leg, and I had seen the way his shoulders hunched and his hands kept drifting toward his ears to shut out the cries at his left.
He had treated the man and the soldier had summoned a Restoration mage to inspect his healing. After a minute the woman had nodded and the soldier had raised his blade to begin the next round.
My brother had jumped forward and grabbed the soldier’s blade hand with a shout of command. I hadn’t heard a word he’d said. The clamor of the crowd and the screams from the other prisoners had been too great.
But I saw the soldier raise his flag.
He hadn’t known. Alex had been expecting the same routine as the first-year trials. It had always been the same. Until King Lucius.
A hushed silence fell over the stands. My brother started across the arena to the stadium’s tunnel, oblivious to the change.
A silent scream tore at my throat.
Just two hours before I would have been proud. I would have sobbed tears of joy to see my brother stand up against the injustice. To know he wouldn’t hurt an old man whose only crime couldn’t have amounted to more than petty theft. But that was before the king of Jerar had threatened my family.
I prayed he wouldn’t notice.
“Braxton!” The king’s voice boomed out across our box.
“Your majesty?”
“I want that mage boy substituted for one of the prisoners in the final two ranks.”