Borrowed Magic (17 page)

She thought this must be some kind of a
joke. Except that Kira looked serious.

“Could you help me to my room?”

Kira allowed Maren to put an arm around her.
They made their shaky way to her room and over to the bed, where
she sat and closed her eyes.

“Thank you again.” She glanced at Kira. “I
don’t know why you’d even care. You hate me.”

Kira flushed. “I don’t really hate you,
Maren. I just hate that Philip chose you over me.”

“Not anymore.”

Kira shook her head. “No, Philip will always
choose you. Even when you’ve chosen someone else.”

She was unsure of what to say to this new
side of Kira.

“Can I help you with your dress?”

She nodded without thinking, and Kira began
undoing the buttons on the back of her gown. The dress, too loose
to stay up on its own, fell down over her shoulders and Kira
gasped.

“Your shoulder…” She moved around to the
front and gasped again. “What happened?”

Maren glanced down at her shoulder and
almost gasped herself. She hadn’t realized how dark the lines had
gotten or how far they’d spread across her body. “The night Kern
invaded the castle he attacked me.” It really didn’t matter who
knew anymore.

“But why?”

“I was in the way of something he
wanted.”

Kira thought for a minute, her eyes still
glued to Maren’s shoulder. “Then the rumors are true?”

“What rumors?”

“That you’re dying.”

Maren paused and took a deep breath. “Yes,
they’re true.”

Seventeen

A light hand
slipped through the arm not held captive by Kern, and Maren knew it
was Adare.

“I think Maren might need to sit for a few
minutes. Would you mind if I stole her from you?”

Kern gave a slight nod in acknowledgement.
“Not at all. I’ll join you in a minute.”

They stepped away from the group and she
felt better almost immediately. Not normal. She’d never feel normal
again.

Every time Kern pushed the pain further, it
never went back to what it was. And now it wasn’t just the pain.
She felt disconnected from herself, as if she couldn’t quite tell
what was real anymore.

Still, being away from
Kern
was
better –
until he sent her another “reminder” that was strong enough to
steal her breath for a moment. Adare noticed and wrapped an arm
around her waist. Out of the corner of her eye, Maren even saw
Philip take a step in her direction before checking himself and
turning his attention back to the lady at his side.

Adare led her over to a small sofa in the
corner of the room.

“Maren, I’m worried.”

She couldn’t blame her. Each morning when
she looked in the mirror, she felt the same way. She was pale and
drawn. Even the deep blue of her gown, which should have accented
her eyes and brought color to her cheeks, did nothing. “I’m dying,
Adare. There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing I can do.”

“But you’re in pain.”

Maren shrugged, trying not to show how hard
it was to talk about. “I’ll be all right. Some days are better than
others.”

Tears glistened on Adare’s lashes. “What
will I do without you?”

Maren wished she could reassure her, but how
could she when she still didn’t know how to stop Kern?

Adare managed a small smile. “I still have
you for a little while. I’ll be grateful for that. And I’ll try not
to dwell on it so much.” Her eyes twinkled. “Especially when the
ladies’ attempts to win over Philip are so entertaining.”

Maren actually laughed for the first time in
weeks. “I haven’t noticed. Is it bad?”

“Terrible. But he doesn’t seem to be paying
attention. In fact, most of the time he’s staring at you.”

Maren couldn’t help but
glance his direction. He
was
staring at her. “I don’t know why.”

“Don’t you?” Adare teased. “He’s
jealous.”

“Or angry.”

Adare thought. “That’s a possibility, but
it’s still the same. Jealousy, anger. They’re not really that
different.”

True. And Philip had every right to feel
both.

The next fifteen minutes were almost
pleasant. She could talk to Adare. She felt more herself than she
had in weeks.

“Ladies.” Philip pulled a chair from against
the wall. “May I join you?”

“Certainly,” Adare said. “We’d love your
company.”

He sat down next to Maren and handed her a
cup and saucer. “Tea. With one and a half teaspoons orange blossom
honey. I believe that’s how you like it.”

It was exactly how she liked it. She was
surprised he remembered. Or that he’d gone out of his way to get it
for her. “Thank you.”

His eyes met hers. “Are you feeling any
better?”

“A little every day,” she lied. The truth
was just the opposite.

“And is there anything else you might need?
Any help with anything?”

His eyes hadn’t left hers, and the thought
crossed her mind that he might suspect more than he was letting on.
After all, he knew she’d been afraid. He’d seen the fear in her
eyes. Could he still see it? Was he wondering if she’d actually
told him the truth about Teige?

She realized he was still waiting for an
answer. “No, no, I’m fine. Daric has done everything imaginable,
and Adare has offered the help of the ladies whenever I might need
it.”

“Not that you’ve ever used them,” Adare
remarked.

Maren could still feel Philip watching her.
She glanced over to see him leaning back in his chair, arms folded
across his chest, brows drawn together. He looked as if he was
trying to figure something out, only the pieces didn’t exactly fit
together.

“How are the troops coming, Philip?” Adare
asked after a too-long silence.

Maren was able, once again, to sit back and
listen – until she felt the pain get stronger.

“Maren, dinner was just announced.” Kern
held out his hand. “May I?”

Adare grabbed Kern’s arm. “Thank you for
taking care of her, Lord Teige.”

Kern brought his hand to Maren’s cheek in a
gesture of tenderness that made her grind her teeth. “I wouldn’t
want to lose her any sooner than…”

He really was good. She had
to admit it. He looked as if he
truly
didn’t want to lose her. Which
may actually be the case, but not because he cared.

Then he leaned in close and kissed her. Not
on the cheek. On the lips, right in front of Philip. She felt her
color rise, shot an embarrassed glance at Philip, and tried to step
away. It was the worst thing she could have done. Kern sent searing
heat straight through her chest. She gasped and her knees went
weak, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his arm around her
waist and pull her to him. It was the closest she’d ever been to
him physically, her body pressed against his, his arm, like iron,
circling her waist.

“Maren, are you all right?” His voice was
full of mock concern, and she felt herself shaking.

“I’m fine. I just lost my balance for a
second.” She wanted to push him away, to escape the contact that
only made everything worse, but she knew better. Kern wanted Philip
to hate her. That’s why he’d kissed her and why he now held her so
intimately close. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She
couldn’t show her fear. Neither could she look at Philip.

Kern placed a finger under her chin and
tilted her head until she was forced to look at him. Then he leaned
forward and kissed her again. “Why don’t we go to dinner? I’m sure
you’ll feel better after you’ve eaten.”

She didn’t argue, even though food wasn’t
even close to the solution she needed. But just before Kern pulled
her towards the table, she dared one brief glance at Philip. Their
eyes met for a single second. Whatever he saw in hers caused a
frown to crease his brows. Not of hatred or jealousy, but something
else – doubt.

Eighteen

A door clicked
shut and a moment later Maren recognized the retreating form of
Kern’s servant. She slunk back further into the shadows until she
was confident no one else was around. Then she stepped out of her
hiding place and slipped into Kern’s room.

Desperation caused people to do things
they’d never have imagined. And she was desperate. The hazy
memories of Kern’s absolute control over her were haunting. She
couldn’t escape them, even in her dreams. So tonight, she’d feigned
illness and skipped dinner.

And now she stood in Kern’s room, wondering
where he’d hidden Philip’s ring, the one thing that was certain to
turn the doubt she’d seen in Philip’s eyes to certainty.

A small, enameled box on the dresser yielded
nothing. Neither did the bedside table or wardrobe.

She went back to the dresser, hands shaking,
as she pulled out each drawer and searched. Still nothing. Scanning
the room, she stopped at the small bookcase. That’s where she’d
hidden the ring in her own room. She pushed the books to the side,
ignoring the cloud of dust that filtered into her nose, but still
couldn’t see anything. The next shelf was the same. And the next.
Certain there was nothing to find, she began putting the books back
in place when voices sounded in the hallway. The book she held
thudded to the floor and she froze, barely daring to breathe.

She stood like that long after the voices
had faded. Then she forced back her paralyzing panic and thought.
The ring had to be here. Kern never wore it. She hadn’t seen it
since the day he’d taken it from her. Her eyes scanned the room
again. She’d looked through every drawer, every cabinet. What was
left?

Her eyes alighted on the bed. Rushing
forward, she slipped her hands between the mattresses, praying
she’d feel the cold metal brush against her fingers. When she found
nothing, she looked under the pillows, and then the rug, and behind
the curtains and tapestries.

Desperation, the thing that had brought her
here, now clouded her mind. She had to hurry. She had to find it.
She had to show Philip.

But there was nowhere else to look.
Except…

She ran to the bed again and fell to her
knees, peering through the darkness underneath for any sign of a
hiding place.

“Is this what you’re looking for?”

Her head smacked against the underside of
his bed. As her vision readjusted, she pushed herself back out and
slowly turned around.

Kern towered over her, holding out his hand.
Philip’s ring glinted in the candlelight. He’d had it all along.
She’d risked everything – for nothing.

He reached down and yanked her to her feet,
jerking her towards him.

“So you want the ring back? You want to see
what the world really looks like?”

She shook her head and struggled to reclaim
her wrist, dreading the torture she knew was coming.

Instead, he shoved the ring onto her
finger.

At first, she thought it hadn’t worked.
Everything was beautiful and soft and new. No cracks appeared in
the walls. No holes in the tapestries.

Her eyes flew to Kern in confusion.

And then she realized she’d been wrong.

The face that stared down at her wasn’t
Teige’s. It was Kern’s, his mouth curled into a sneer. Even worse
were his eyes. Still the same, no matter what visage he wore, but
they were somehow more sinister on his own face. A face that looked
so much like Philip, but not, that she felt as if her chest would
explode in anger.

No matter how terrible it was to see Teige’s
face everyday – to know who he really was and what he was going to
do – looking at Kern was unbearable.

She grasped for the ring, wanting nothing
more than to tear it from her hand. Instead Kern dragged her to the
window.

“There’s your reality.”

Although the sun had set long before, the
moon was high and full, bathing everything in soft shadows. The
city was too far for detail, but she couldn’t miss the crumbling
castle walls leaning precariously over paths that would be crowded
with people during the day. She couldn’t ignore the piles of
shattered wood and broken glass. She put her face in her hands and
tried to back away, but Kern pulled at her hands and forced her
face back to the window.

“Remember it, my dear. Remember what I can
do.”

She shook her head and closed her eyes. A
moment later, Kern wrenched her backwards, and she thumped to the
floor, her eyes flying open.

The contrast was stark. All the disrepair
and horror outside. All the perfection and elegance in his
room.

“Why?” she asked. “Why ruin a kingdom you
want to rule?”

“The simple answer? Because I can.”

He settled himself into a plush chair and
leaned forward, looking down at her with a wicked smile. “The more
complicated answer? To settle old scores.”

His voice was harsh and cruel and spoke of a
past she didn’t know.

“Let me tell you a story,” he said. “There
were once two boys who lived on neighboring estates. They were as
close as two boys could be, almost inseparable, more like brothers
than friends. As always happens in stories such as this, they both
fell in love with the same girl. Lydia. Now, the first young man
was wealthier and an older son, and Lydia chose him. They were
married. For a few years, they were happy. They even had a
son.”

Maren didn’t want to hear the rest. It
reminded her too much of the day her father died. “I know you’re
talking about you and my father. As if the two of you could have
ever been friends.”

He smiled. “Oh, we were. As close as you and
Philip when you were younger.” He sat back, as if he were
considering what to say next. “When our son was two years old,
Lydia took him and…disappeared. I didn’t know where she went or
what might have happened to them. She came back a year later and
said he’d died. I didn’t believe her. Even before she’d left, I’d
seen something in her eyes that told me she’d betray me.