"Darren, you are a prince of Jerar!" The man was almost out of the fire. "I can't let Eve's death be for nothing."
His eyes were hard. "I couldn't stop Caine or Eve - but by the gods, if I must die, I want to die knowing it is not because everyone is proffering themselves up as sacrificial lambs every time my bloodline is in danger!" He released my wrist and handed me my cut bonds from earlier. "You are not going to die today, Ryiah. Now take these. That mage must have used up quite a bit of magic to hold off Eve's casting. I still have some of mine, and you have this rope. If you want to fight then fight, but don't you dare sacrifice yourself for someone like me."
My lips parted in surprise. "Don't you dare sacrifice yourself for someone like me?" That didn't sound like Darren the Wolf at all. It sounded like the boy I had fallen in love with.
Now is not the time to question things. I studied the landscape, knotting and unknotting the leather cord in my hands. The mage had finished crossing the flames and was now running toward us. He still had quite a distance to cross, but he would he would reach us soon enough. "A mage employs every resource he has. We don't spend years training you in both types of combat just so you can shirk your duties the second you've used up your magic." I bit my lip. You are still a warrior, so think like one.
I pointed to a thicket a quarter mile away half-covered in ash. "There's a steep ravine just east of that brush. When I was looking for a place to start the fire I almost missed it."
Darren drew a sharp intake of breath. "So the mage wouldn't be able to flee east. We could cut him off if we can lead him to it."
The two of us both took off at a sprint. It only took me a second to realize my mistake. There was no way I could cross the distance in time. The searing pain in my thigh was a quick reminder why. I hobbled after Darren, my pace no faster than a walk. I was skipping, half-dragging my leg behind me as the mage drew closer. The man still hadn't cast – it was a good sign that he was conserving his magic - but he would be upon me in less than a minute.
Darren looked back to see where I was and stopped running.
The dark-haired prince was racing toward me just as the mage raised his hands.
I ducked and a series of sparks shot out across the distance between us. The mage's magic collided against a barrier not two feet in front of me. There was a loud crack and then Darren's casting shattered, shards of glass splintering the air around me before subsequently vanishing with Darren's magic.
"Get behind me," the non-heir gasped. The mage was already calling upon his next casting. I shook my head and took a stand stubbornly beside him.
There was less than fifteen feet spanning the distance between us and the Caltothian. We could not outrun him if we tried. And judging from Darren's last casting, we wouldn't be able to out-magic him either.
"If we are going to die today," I told Darren, "let's make it the best fight of our lives."
Before he could stop me, I had thrown myself forward with the leather strap high above my head. I paid no attention to the agony in my leg. I cut the distance in half, springing into the air with the balls of my feet. The thick rope shot straight up and then I let my elbow bend and snap.
There was the satisfying crack as the leather met the mage's shoulder and then I fell to the ground, doubled over in a pain so terrible I couldn't think. I heard Darren roar and shut my eyes against a huge flare of light. Two men's screams were followed by a loud thud.
I opened my eyes. My surroundings flickered and spun, over and over. My stomach ate at me from the inside. Something was piercing my abdomen. Black and red swarmed my gaze and I could barely make out the dark heap in the grass next to me.
Then I heard the short, sputtering coughs as the person struggled to breath. There was a hoarse gasp and then a terrible moan.
Darren.
I reached across the distance and tried to find the prince's hand. My fingers caught his and I held on tight. I knew it was wrong but I didn't care. I couldn't speak, my pain was building and building and all I could do was shut my eyes and pray to the Shadow God that death would come swiftly for both of us.
"Ryiah," Darren whispered. "I'm sorry I made a mess of everything." He tried to laugh and then choked, sputtering for air.
Something broke in me.
Pain was deafening my senses but an unrequited anger rose when I heard Darren utter what he thought would be his last words. An apology. For everything. In his dying breath the non-heir wanted to tell me he was sorry.
And that's when I realized Priscilla was wrong. I was wrong.
Whatever he had put me through, Darren was good.
Darren could have waited for the keep's regiment but as soon as he'd freed the others, he had come back for me.
Like Eve, he'd never had an intention of fleeing when he told me to run.
That was two times Darren had chosen to save me instead of himself.
A prince of Jerar had decided a lowborn's life was more important than his own.