Borrowed Magic (2 page)

“You don’t seem very excited, Maren,”
someone whispered beside her.

Lady Kira. Perhaps the last person she
wanted to deal with right now.

Maren forced herself to remain
expressionless. “I’m as excited as everyone else.”

Kira laughed. “You’re not a very good liar.
You always did wear your emotions on your sleeve. I’d be careful
this time, though. Things have changed. He probably won’t be the
same. You’re not the same.” She brushed a strand of honey-colored
hair back into place. “And I’m definitely not the same.”

Maren balled her hands into fists. Kira was
right. Maybe that’s what she was so afraid of.

Daric pulled Philip over to Adare. Maren
lowered her head further, allowing her hair to fall across her
face. Still, she couldn’t keep from staring. Now that she could see
Philip closely, the difference she’d sensed was more apparent. She
just couldn’t decide what it was.

“May I present my second in command?” Philip
motioned the man at his side forward. “A man without whom this
victory would never have happened. Lord Teige.”

Maren pulled her gaze from Philip and
finally glanced at the man who, until this point, she hadn’t paid
attention to. And then she couldn’t look away.

The man was…beautiful. There really wasn’t a
better word for it. Where Philip was dark, Teige was light, with
blue eyes and hair the color of caramel. He appeared a few years
older than Philip and was half a head shorter. Not that it
mattered. He exuded a confidence that filled the space around
him.

He bowed to Daric before taking Adare’s
outstretched hand.

“We owe you our lives,” Adare said. “And our
gratitude.”

“You owe me nothing. It was an honor to
serve Tredare.” Teige smiled and Maren felt the collective sigh
from every woman in the crowd.

That magnetism only intensified as she
witnessed his conversation with their majesties and the Council.
Instead of Philip’s quiet dignity, Teige was friendly and
charismatic, asking polite questions, complimenting each person
individually. Even Lord Berk, the head of the Council and a man
known for his reserve, clapped Teige on the shoulder as they shared
a joke.

A minute later, Adare laced her arm through
Philip’s and led him and Teige over, and Maren realized they’d
reached the moment she’d been dreading.

“Lord Philip, Lord Teige, I’d like to
present Lady Maren, my First Lady.”

Philip stiffened and hesitated for the
tiniest of seconds before facing her.

She sank into a graceful curtsey. “My Lord.”
His hand trembled as he took hers. Or maybe it was her own.

For a moment he just stared, and her heart
leapt at the tenderness – and relief – in his gaze, but then his
mouth hardened into an angry line. He released her hand and took a
barely discernable step back. “Lady Maren. It’s a pleasure.” The
words were distant and cold, thrown at her with such force she
flinched.

He turned to Teige. “Lady
Maren and I grew up together and were always in some kind of
trouble.” His smile was purely on the surface. “I remember one time
in particular. Her father caught us climbing onto the castle roof.
I was probably eleven; she was eight.
We
knew if we didn’t come up with a good excuse, we wouldn’t be
allowed outside for a month. We both sat there shaking, not knowing
what to say, when Lady Maren blurted out a story about trying to
save a nest of birds from a hawk. She even managed a few tears for
effect. Luckily for us, there actually was a hawk flying overhead.
Not only did her father believe us, we didn’t even get punished.”
He paused and looked at her with something approaching hatred. “I
never would have believed she could lie so well.”

For a second the words hung in the air
between them, and Maren blinked back tears, refusing to let him see
how much he’d hurt her. A moment later, Adare, her polite smile
frozen in place, took advantage of the silence to present him to
Kira. He didn’t look back.

She was left facing Lord Teige, who stared
after his friend with knitted brows before offering his hand. “I’m
always pleased to make the acquaintance of a beautiful woman, Lady
Maren.”

She forced a smile and placed her hand in
his.

Intense pressure pierced through her left
shoulder, and she unconsciously gripped Teige’s hand tighter.

“Lady Maren, are you all right?”

“Yes,” she managed, her voice weaker than
she would have liked. “I’m fine. A sudden headache.”

“You don’t look well,” he said, guiding her
to a chair. “Let me get someone to help.”

“That’s not necessary, but thank you.” She
tried not to look as panicked as she felt. “I haven’t been sleeping
well. Probably the stress of the past week.”

He held her gaze with his own, concern and
curiosity clearly warring with good manners. Then he bowed once
more before greeting Kira.

The next half hour was a blur. Not because
of the pain, which had evaporated shortly after it came, but
because her shoulder hadn’t hurt like that since before the siege.
She shouldn’t be feeling it now. She’d been healed – as much as she
could be. Maybe the stress of the past week truly was catching up
with her.

She retreated to the edge of the crowd,
passing Philip with a beaming Lady Kira on his arm. He ignored her.
Kira shot her a look of pure triumph. As if it was some sort of
contest. Some things never changed.

She sank onto a nearby chair. Now her head
truly did hurt. Philip hated her. Time hadn’t fixed anything. And
still, she couldn’t keep from following him with her eyes, seeing
him praised by others, watching as he readjusted to the life that
had been his. Even now, Kira hung on one arm, Teige stood to his
right, and a large crowd had gathered around them. Laughter and
smiles flowed freely – until someone dared ask the question
everyone wanted the answer to.

“What exactly happened out
there, Lord Philip? How
did
you kill Kern?”

Philip paused with his drink halfway to his
mouth, and resignation settled into every one of his features.
Maren slipped from her chair and moved closer.

Philip took a deep breath. “While Kern was
busy holding siege to the city, I was scouring the country for men.
By the time they were trained and I made my way here, I had a force
of just over three thousand. Kern, by comparison, had less than a
thousand.”

She could feel the crowd’s anticipation.
Whether they laughed off the “crazy” man from earlier or not, they
all wanted an explanation. They were curious. And with the
deep-seeded fear of magic that Kern had wrought throughout the
kingdom, they wanted to know not just that he was gone, but how it
happened. They wanted assurance.

So did she. Desperately.

Philip gave it to them, describing how Teige
distracted Kern with the bulk of the army while Philip took a
smaller force and snuck up from behind.

“Then what happened?” someone in the crowd
prompted.

Philip hesitated. Only a hardness around his
eyes gave any indication to the depth of his emotions. “I stabbed
Kern straight through the heart.”

A few in the crowd gasped.
One woman let out a horrified cry. But no one moved.
“
And?”
The words
weren’t spoken aloud, but Maren could feel the question hanging in
the air like an unpleasant wind.

Philip frowned. “As soon as the fighting
ended, we took the body back to camp and burned it.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t even
realized she was holding. Kern truly was dead. Even though she’d
known it on some level, hearing it from Philip filled her with a
relief that left her light headed and surprisingly drained.

The crowd obviously felt similar. Still,
they only stood wide-eyed for a moment before the questions poured
out.

It was like watching a group of boys after a
sporting competition. They wanted to replay every move. Every hit.
Every win. They pushed forward, each trying to get that
all-important detail that would be talked about for the next week.
Not that anything they heard would stay the same. The story would
grow and change and adapt until it was barely recognizable. And
through it all, the reality would be lost. So would the horror.

Only Philip seemed to understand the
seriousness of it all. He opened his mouth and then shut it again
and shook his head, unwilling to say anymore. Instead, everyone’s
eyes turned to Teige, eager for the details Philip wouldn’t
share.

“All right, all right.” Teige put his arms
up in surrender. “I’ll tell you everything Philip is too modest to
say.”

Maren retreated from the crowd, immediately
searching for Philip. He stood with Daric and Adare, listening more
than talking. She could understand his reservation; he’d been gone
for three years. But the difference she’d sensed in him earlier was
more than reservation. She continued to watch him move about the
room, talking to various people, receiving praise that obviously
made him uncomfortable. Then he turned and their eyes met just for
a moment before he looked away.

And she finally recognized what was
different.

He’d lost the laughter in his eyes – the
realization of which tore at her heart like nothing else had. It
was one of the things she’d loved most about him. That laughter had
allowed them to share private jokes even from across a crowded
ballroom. It had let her know when he was internally chuckling
while some young woman was trying to win his affections. It had
assured her the bond between them was as strong as ever. It was
something he let everyone see but that he only truly shared with
her.

Tears stung her eyes as she made her way to
the door, desperately needing to be alone.

Maren wrapped her
arms around her legs and stared out the window. It had been hours
since her confrontation with Philip, but her mood hadn’t improved.
She sat in the dark, letting the moonlight rest on her
face.

Below her, the people still celebrated. The
streets were almost as full as they’d been this morning. Bonfires
blazed in every courtyard. Food and drink, scarce for so long, were
passed around in abundance until the people were drunk with
happiness. The city felt alive again.

And she’d never felt so alone, which was
something, all things considered.

She’d always lived in the castle. Not in the
high, beautiful rooms with views of the city where she lived now.
But neither in the servants’ quarters that were shoved behind the
kitchen and always smelled of onion. Her father was the King’s
Scholar, the youngest son of the youngest son of the Lord of
Alaister. A respectful pedigree – not the highest, or the lowest.
Somewhere in the middle.

It hadn’t really bothered her. At least not
much, especially as she got older and realized she didn’t care
about position or title, or that the other ladies never really
accepted her. She just wanted to be happy. And she had been. Until
three years ago.

And now…well it was more complicated. Her
head ached. Her heart ached. Her shoulder ached more than normal.
She was exhausted.

How could she live like this? How could she
face Philip again? How could she endure that kind of pain –
heartache – day after day and still maintain the outward appearance
of normalcy? The questions had swirled through her head since she’d
collapsed on her bed hours earlier, and she still didn’t have any
answers.

Her door creaked open, but she didn’t bother
to turn around. Only one person would enter her room without
knocking.

Adare wrapped her arms around her. “I’m so
sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I didn’t understand. I
didn’t think he’d be…” She took a deep breath. “Should I have Daric
throw him in the dungeon or would you like to do it
personally?”

Even with Adare’s attempt at humor, Maren
couldn’t find it in herself to smile.

“Won’t you tell me what happened?” Adare
asked. “I know you quarreled, but obviously it was more than
that.”

“It doesn’t matter. I just hoped, after
three years…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He still hates
me.”

Adare’s arms tightened around her. “No, he
doesn’t. No one who saw the way he looked at you for that first
second could ever believe that. It was like he’d finally, truly
come home.”

Which somehow only made her feel worse.

Two

Maren stood just outside the doorway
and fidgeted with a silver bracelet. Inside the ballroom, all the
visiting nobility were gathered for the banquet honoring Lords
Philip and Teige. Monarchs from the surrounding kingdoms would be
arriving over the next few days. They were nowhere to be found
while Kern held the city hostage, but now they were coming – now
that bravery wasn’t needed – to offer help.

Maren was as disgusted by that as she was
panicked for the evening ahead of her. Once she stepped through the
doors, there was no retreat. She’d have to face whatever was
inside.

And whoever was inside.

Chances were she’d see Philip every day. She
accepted that. It didn’t mean she had to let down the walls she’d
built in order to keep herself from falling apart. She would show
him he couldn’t hurt her anymore – which wasn’t exactly true, but
she wouldn’t let him see that. And above all, she was going to look
her best.

Her rich, brown hair cascaded over her
shoulders and to her waist in soft curls. Her dress was
rose-colored silk with a square neckline and lace-trimmed sleeves
that came just below her elbows. She knew it brought out the color
of her eyes – not quite blue, but not green either.

She squared her shoulders, straightened the
folds of her skirts, and walked through the doorway.