Last Stand (The Black Mage #4)

“But it’s yours!” I was straining against the manacles. “Darren—”

“No.” His words were like thunder. “You are responsible for their fate. Not me. You could save them, Ryiah. All it would cost is the rebels.” He ran a fist up along his neck. “You think we won’t find them? That I don’t think there is something suspicious about the keep and that rebel’s escape? That I’m not questioning every single word you ever said?”

“Darren.” I pulled myself to my knees as far as my shackles would allow. My voice broke. “I-I can’t.”

The prince held still, unmoving. Then: “You can, but you won’t.”

My pulse hammered wildly against my throat. “But they aren’t rebels!”

“It doesn’t matter, not to me.” His laugh was cold and unfeeling. “It should to you.”

I didn’t answer. I wanted to, but I couldn’t betray everyone who had given their lives to this cause.

Even if I wanted to.

Something must have shown in my eyes, because the next thing I knew, Darren was shaking my shoulders, shouting into my face.

“I just told you that I would spare your family. And you still choose the rebels!”

“Darren—”

“Gods, you would betray everyone, wouldn’t you?” His eyes bore into mine, angry and crazed. “How did they convert you to their cause? What did they promise you?”

“I already t-told you everything.” Heat was rising to my face. “You just refuse to listen.”

“Power, was that it?” Darren’s fingers dug into my skin. “The crown prince isn’t good enough? You want to rule the country yourself?”

“I never wanted to be queen!” I spat the words in his face. “It has nothing to do with power and everything to do with the truth!”

“Truth?” He was yelling right back. “Really, Ryiah? You want to talk about the truth?” His hands trembled with rage. “Derrick was a rebel and a traitor, and you were so blinded by your own grief that you decided to make my brother the villain instead of your own!”

Blinded by grief? “I’m not the one who is blind, Darren!” Why wouldn’t he listen to me? What would it take? “Blayne isn’t who you think he is. He killed your father. He staged an entire war! You are blind because you’ve always been his protector instead of seeing him for the monster he really is!”

“Where is your proof, Ryiah, where?”

“Darren—”

“Derrick was feeding you lies!” Disgust and despair tore apart his words. “You’ve had so much trouble coping with his death that you’d rather die for his cause than live for the truth.”

“Darren…” There was a knot at the center of my chest. There was nothing I could say to make him believe me. I saw it in his face. He thought I was a liar, and I had broken his trust. There was nothing I could say.

Worst of all, I had no proof.

“Do I mean anything to you?” Darren punched the wall above my head so hard his knuckles bled. “Anything at all, Ryiah?”

“O-of course.” Tears welled in my eyes.

“Then prove it.” His voice lowered; he was no longer yelling. “Pick the Crown. Live.” The next words were so desperate and broken. “Pick everything we were.”

I shook my head; my whole body trembled; there was no way he could miss it. I couldn’t meet his eyes.

The prince swore violently and released me with a shove.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then his voice cracked. “You asked me to run away once.”

My eyes flew to his; Darren looked back at me. There was no hate, just regret. Something a thousand times worse than the first.

“So there was a time you would have picked us.”

“I’m sorry.” My whisper was hoarse. I couldn’t pick him or my family now. There were others.

I’d been selfish then, but I needed to be better, stronger now. Wishing wouldn’t change their fate. Picking the boy wouldn’t save the rest.

The Black Mage rose and retreated to the corner of the cell, his hands stilling on the lock. “Not as sorry as me.”

There was a sudden stiffness in my joints; I couldn’t move.

“At dawn they are going to take your life.”

Be brave, Ryiah.

“I won’t be there.” Darren’s expression was the same as that day I found him on the bluffs. Something beyond grief. Something that called out to me even as I shattered. “I can’t watch,” he whispered. “Even after all that you’ve done. I can’t.”

Tears streamed down my face, but I couldn’t speak—not without breaking down into confession and selling my soul for the chance to take that pain away. I didn’t trust myself with honor. I would have given anything.

I watched him go.

I let the boy I love turn and walk away, knowing he would never come back.

One more night.

So why did it already feel like the end?



*

The heavy thud of something splintering against the door was enough to drive me from my self-perpetuated misery. I had buried myself deep in nothing, ignoring every tormenting thought in an effort to escape the last few hours of my fate. It had almost worked, too.