"I never loved you." Darren's laugh was cold and unfeeling. "Did I want you? Of course, I would've been a fool not to… But love? Well, that's just something one claims to win certain privileges."
"You are lying!" I couldn't believe him. I wouldn't. He was only trying to hurt me to make this easier. It was like our first year at the Academy: he was protecting me, I knew it. He had to-
"Ryiah, Ryiah." Blayne's tone was scornful. "Surely you know better than that. Think about it. When has prince of Jerar ever married a commoner? Darren didn't want to court you – he wanted to bed you." He snickered. "Why do you think he was so quick to end things after you turned him away?"
"No." My whole body was shaking. "No!"
"I'm sorry it had to come to this."
I couldn't speak – not without bursting into angry sobs, and I would not let him see me cry.
"You should leave now, Ryiah." Darren's voice was void of emotion.
My hands trembled violently and I couldn't stop gasping for air. What was wrong with me? I felt like my chest was being ripped apart at its seams.
"Guards, take her away." Blayne had stopped looking entertained. "This has gone on long enough."
You do not control me. Before the guards could drag me away I slammed a heel into each of their boots and then bit down on my tongue until it bled, letting the momentary pain send enough magic for my bonds to break.
Then before the men could stop me I gathered my skirts and gave a mock bow to my audience. "Your highnesses."
I didn't bother to wait for a reply – I ran down the hall half-aware of Blayne's shouting and Darren's mumbled response. I kept waiting for the sound of angry footfall behind me, but it never came. Darren must have convinced the guards to let me go.
"I never loved you." I threw open the door to my chambers and slammed it shut behind me. "Love?" I threw myself onto the bed. "That's just something one claims to win certain privileges."
Darren was the world's greatest liar. Or I was the worst kind of fool.
Either way there was no victory to be held. Everything had played out exactly the way the others had warned me it would. I had chosen to fly – was it really any wonder the fall would be so steep? My breathing hitched and an unbidden sob tore its way across my chest.
Then the tears came…
I wasn't sure they'd ever stop.
They did, eventually.
But that only made it worse. I was still crying, screaming, dying inside.
I didn't remember falling asleep.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Alright, listen up, apprentices, I don't want you parading around like a bunch of girls at a convent because you have an audience during today's drills. This morning's exercise was particularly shameful."
"Is the entire court going to be watching all year?" The words burst from my lips before I could stop them. I couldn't help it – for the first half of our day the palace nobles had been everywhere. Watching the morning run and warm ups around the practice yard, commenting during the non-magicked weapons drills, placing bets on our prowess and rooting for favorites… it was like our first-year trials all over again.
The highborns had returned to the palace grounds for lunch, but there was always the threat they could return.
Master Byron scowled as the rest of the class turned to watch his reply. "Yes. This is one of the court's favorite activities when the apprenticing mages and squires are stationed in Devon. The king himself commissions it. Do you have a problem with spectators, apprentice?"
I bit my lip. There was no point arguing with our training master, hadn't I learned that by now? "No."
Byron's stern gaze slide to the rest of his audience. "Anyone else?"
Silence.
"Good. Now that Apprentice Ryiah has withdrawn her complaint, let's resume what matters, shall we?" The man made a face. "This year's castings will be particularly poignant. Mentors, you will be casting on command. Mentees, I leave it up to you to form the appropriate deflection."
"How do we know which casting to defend ourselves with?"
I cringed as I watched the Master of Combat turn on the second-year who had spoken, an anxious-looking girl named Tully. His face was a mottled shade of red.