She didn’t say anything and after a moment I started to walk away. My conscience was clear.
“You know I actually pitied you.” Her voice rang out behind me, and I turned around. “I kept thinking how hard it must be to have the master pick on you all the time. To care for that prince who so clearly could never return your affections.” She laughed. “This was never about a boy, Ryiah. Ian was charming and handsome, yes, but it was more than that. I was your friend, too, and you didn’t even have the decency to talk to me after it happened. Not once. Maybe I could have understood, but you never gave me a chance.”
I looked down at the ground, shame-faced. “I don’t expect your forgiveness. I just needed to let you know what I did back then was wrong and I’m sorry. I meant what I said. You deserved better.”
Lynn resumed her drill, and I took that to mean the discussion was done, but then she raised her voice, pausing.
“We won’t ever be friends again…but thank you, Ryiah.” She gave a resigned sigh. “I can respect your apology.”
****
I wasn’t ready for my own Candidacy. Not after what had happened to my twin in Restoration. Not after watching a series of prisoners tortured for the sake of entertainment. It didn’t matter that Combat didn’t need prisoners since the candidates were fighting one another. I had no enthusiasm anymore.
Had I not feared the king’s wrath, I would have withdrawn. But I couldn’t. Lucius had heard Darren and me talk about competing several times over the Crown’s progress to Montfort. While the kingdom might not know I had changed my mind, the king would, and he had made it perfectly clear what my missteps would bring.
You get the moment you were always waiting for, and you don’t want it anymore. Irony, in every sense of the word.
Now every Combat candidate—regardless of rank—was crammed into the tunnels listening to the judge detail what we could expect for our tourneys. There were eighty-one of us in total. Far too many to be at their best potential. I could see some participants that were past their peak, and I memorized those faces in hopes I could use it to my advantage.
“Alliances happen, but make no mistake: the second you trust a friend they’ll betray you on the field. Happens every rank. The melee is a battle to the end. There will only be one winner.” The man’s brow furrowed. “You are encouraged to surrender should a fight grow precarious. Should you fail to speak the ever so sensible word there is a possibility we will be finding a corpse before the healers can treat you. Deaths are most common in Combat because so many candidates find themselves unwilling to surrender when they should. If you are unable to speak you must raise both hands, palms forward, to indicate surrender.”
Some of the candidates began to murmur amongst themselves. Ella gripped my hand tightly, no words necessary. She was—if it were possible— worse off than I. She had already put her name on the Combat roster the first day of the Candidacy. She’d wanted to withdraw after what happened to Alex, but both of us had been too afraid the king would have someone checking the lists.
The tunnels were bright—a long row of torches lined each wall and two gaping holes revealed sunlight at either end of its mouth. Darren, who had been standing next to me for the judge’s speech, retired to the back soundlessly. I saw him pass Ian on his way over, eyes momentarily meeting, but then he just glanced away.
The non-heir had other things on his mind. Like winning. Something I had wanted so desperately, but it was hard to recall now.
I saw other familiar faces. Lynn was here, standing off to the side with another girl I’d never met, and Priscilla and Tyra were closer to the front of the cave, the former refusing to acknowledge Darren’s or my presence.
I adjusted the leather straps of my vest—they pinched against the skin of my arms—and watched as Ian found Loren, Ella’s old mentor during the apprenticeship, and the two sidled up to where we were standing.
I half-expected Ian to comment on what had happened to Alex. My brother was his friend too. But the mage said nothing, just gave us a smile and cocked his head in Darren’s direction. “Your betrothed looks a bit nervous today.”
I forced a nod and Ella cleared her throat.
“Think that makes all of us.”
“I saw Lynn earlier,” Loren added. “She looks good.”
Ian and I cringed—we had both wronged the girl in our past. Ella was the one to speak. “Byron underestimated her. She shouldn’t be fifth-rank. But I suppose it’ll play out well against the others in her melee. Byron only gave Lynn that rank because he hated women.”
“Well then, that’ll make me a winner in fourth.” Ian was met with confusion. “Come on, you three, have a laugh. Byron hated me just as much as Ryiah, which makes me much better than the other fourth-ranks, yes?”
Ella and I tried to make ourselves smile, but it was almost worse.