Last Stand (The Black Mage #4)

Darren’s grip tightened on my wrist. “You have my promise, Ryiah, but I need you to wait. Do you think you can do this?”

I growled my reply. “If it is him, I want to be the one to wield the blade. For Derrick.” I needed his promise now, before the truth was discovered. I needed to spare the prince this tainted act from his conscience.

“Is that what you really want?”

“It’s the only thing I ask.”

The prince nodded and then knocked on the prison door, summoning one of our men from the other side. “Check Tallus’s belongings. Don’t leave a boot unturned.”

“Right away, Your Highness.”

The prince closed the door and returned his gaze to Ferren’s Keep’s “only” rebel. “I hope for your sake my wife is wrong.”

The knight lifted a bloodied chin, a red bruise already starting to swell across his right eye. “You won’t find anything.” The words were resolute and full of spite. “You are making a mistake.”

Thirty minutes later, a knock sounded at the door.

“Your Highness, sewn into his pillow was a list. Your wife’s brother is one of the names.”

The prince turned to me. “Ryiah, I believe it is your turn.”

In my hand, I produced a blade.



*

Tallus confessed after a long night in the cell. It was one I’d never get back.

“There are no rebels in the capital!” Darren paced the dungeon. “All of them were caught during the attack.”

“That’s only what they wish you to think.” The man laughed, his whole body shaking violently against the corner of his cell as blood and saliva dripped down his face like a madman.

“Then tell me why they lie in wait. Tell me why they haven’t made a move.”

“They’ve been waiting for the Black Mage to leave,” Tallus spat, “so the king is unprotected.”

Darren charged the cell, and I snatched his arm before he could strangle the knight with his bare hands. “You lie! We have guards, hundreds—”

“Everyone knows the prince is hunting rebels north, even my leader in the south.” Tallus broke into a vicious grin. His whole mouth was crimson. “They know the king is unprotected. All it will take is one—”

The knight broke into a cry as Darren’s casting sent him sprawling against the prison wall.

“Darren!” I jerked the boy around so he was forced to look me in the eyes, instead of at the man he was attempting to kill.

“He’s talking about Blayne.” Darren’s eyes were wild and his nails were cutting into my arms. His pulse was beating wildly against his throat. “Ryiah, I—”

“We can’t kill him. He can help identify the rebels in Devon.” I took control of the situation, trying not to think of the man who had willingly suffered to help me perform this terrible lie. “We will send envoys right away. Your brother will be fine. Have Mira double the King’s Regiment and call Marius back from the south.”

I waited, feeling the grating pressure on my arms slacken. Then I addressed the prisoner. “You will reveal these rebels in exchange for your life.”

The man said nothing, his chest rising and falling as he fought back the pain of his latest blow.

“We will grant you a king’s pardon.”

“Never!” Darren tugged away, fighting my grip, but I refused to budge.

“This man will never betray his own without it.” My eyes were locked on his. “It may not be what you want, but surely one man’s life for the king’s safety is worth the price of revenge.”

“Fine.” The prince bit out the word and crooked his neck to glare at Tallus over my shoulder. “We grant you this, traitor, but if you fail to comply, you will be strung from the palace rafters like your brethren.”

It took every bit of resolve I had not to react to Darren’s threat. It was impossible not to remember Derrick.

“Yes.” The knight took a retching breath and forced his words into a command of his own. “But I will not say a word until the document is signed.”

Darren said nothing. Instead, he marched to the other side of the room and began shoving reports into a file. I had a feeling he wouldn’t sleep at all that night—he’d be studying those papers, searching for anything missed.

In a way, our reactions were one and the same. The things I did tonight, they would haunt my sleep for years to come.

When my twin finally arrived as part of the healers to clean up the mess, we could finally leave. Darren wasted no time in taking off.

Paige remained behind with me. I prepared for the look of outrage when Alex took in the scene before us—a beaten knight and the sister with his blood coating her fists.

Even Paige had to flinch and look away.

But all I saw was grief when Alex’s gaze met my own. And pity. He didn’t say anything as Paige stood nearby, supervising the healing. We needed the rebel “fit to travel but nothing more.” My twin’s expression was far better than I deserved.

I wondered what he would say now that he could see the price of my choice, the price of all of our choices in siding with the rebel cause.