“I hate you!” he spat the words in my face.
“Derrick.” My father cleared his throat and looked to me with a pained expression. “If Ryiah said she couldn’t do anything, your mother and I believe her. She is not a member of the Crown, she may not have as much sway—”
“She doesn’t care about us!” His cry was hoarse. “Look at Alex. Look at what she let the king do to him”
“I didn’t want to!” I was sobbing. My twin continued to ignore me as my little brother tore out my heart. “I love him—”
“Not more than that prince. You’ve forgotten all of us! First you act too high and mighty in the keep—”
“Derrick, I—”
“—Then you let your own brother be beat within an inch of his life for the Crown’s entertainment! You aren’t my sister. I don’t even know who you are anymore!” He tore off his chain and threw my old ring at the floor. “You are nothing to me.”
Then he stomped across the room and slammed the door shut behind him.
“Ry.” My mother’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “You promise?”
“I promise I never wanted...” My knees were shaking, and I looked down at her and my twin in anguish. “When I first saw the prisoners—I said something. The king made it clear if I did it again he would punish my family.”
My mother choked and my father stumbled back against the wall.
“He didn’t even know Alex was my family.” I fell down beside my brother with a sob. “If he had, it would have been worse.” My hand reached out to touch his wrist. Alex didn’t tell me to move it, but he didn’t acknowledge me either.
After a while my parents returned to their room across the way, and Ella finally walked me to the door. She hadn’t spoken once. I prepared for another angry goodbye, but all she did was wrap her arms around me, shaking.
“I forgive you,” she whispered. Her voice broke, and I could feel the tears through her shirt. “He will, too.”
Chapter Twelve
I watched the second day of Restoration without feeling. Each rank’s winner challenged the winner from the next, and whoever won went on to challenge the next. It was an opportunity to advance from one’s ranking during their own year’s ascension, and a chance—albeit very slim—to wear the Red Robe should they win each subsequent challenge. In the past three Candidacies the most a mage had ever advanced were two ranks—and none of the factions had ever had the winner of second-rank best first.
Four matches in all, nine hours in total, and the final winner was a young man I didn’t recognize named Torrance. He became Jerar’s newest Red Mage, though the title was not to be formally bestowed until the Victors’ Ceremony on the seventh day of the weeklong Candidacy.
Alchemy’s trials were very similar to Restoration. The first day was the display of their castings’ brews. Great fire flasks lobbed into the sky only to come crashing down and burst into an explosion of flame. Heavy gases that clouded the arena in smoke. Prisoners forced to undergo hallucinogens or paralysis in the blink of an eye. A swift display of potions-fortified weapons against the standard steel of the Crown’s Army.
On the second day, each rank’s winner competed against the next by poisoning their opposition’s prisoner, and then scrambling to create the antidote for the one they received.
Two prisoners died before the appropriate cure could be completed.
As soon as the trials were over, I dismissed myself from our box and hurried out to the Montfort training ground to drown my frustration in rage. I needed to rest for my trial the following day, but if I did there was a very real chance the restless frustration would spill over into violence.
I would do something I’d regret—and that something would come at the cost of my family and Darren. Two things I swore never to risk.
The only person who followed me was Paige, and by now she knew my habits like her own. She joined me by sparring in silence.
I was leaving the Montfort training grounds when I spotted Lynn, my older mentor from my first year of the apprenticeship, quietly practicing her blocks, imitating some of the same moves she had taught me during my first few months of the apprenticeship.
It was a blessing in disguise. I was angry at the world, and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save the prisoners, I couldn’t stop the king, but right here—right now—I could right the past.
I was about five steps away when she spotted me. Her black bangs swung as she adjusted her stance, almond eyes cold.
“Do you need something, Ryiah?”
I made myself speak. “I’m sorry, Lynn. What I did during our apprenticeship—it wasn’t fair. I knew you had feelings for Ian and I ignored them. I should have apologized before.” I sucked in a breath. “You were a great mentor, and I never should have hurt you like I did.”