Borrowed Magic (9 page)

Teige had found a place in the very heart of
the kingdom.

In a moment of clarity,
Maren realized what her true problem with Teige might be. Maybe
he
was
exactly
what he seemed. Maybe she was just jealous. Daric and Adare loved
Teige. Philip trusted him more than anyone – even though he’d only
known him less than a year.

Still, there was the pain. Which he probably
didn’t even know he was causing.

She was a fool. A blind fool who couldn’t
even recognize her own petty envy. Desperate to get away, Maren
whispered an excuse to Surrey, and then slipped from the crowd.
She’d gotten a few feet when she felt a hand on her arm.

Her shoulder exploded into fire and she sank
to her knees, gasping for breath and fighting to regain
control.

“Lady Maren?” Teige’s hands were on her
shoulders, which only made things worse, causing her arm to burn
and her body to shake. “Lady Maren, are you all right?” She
couldn’t even tell if he sounded sincere, didn’t care. She just
wanted the pain to stop.

“Maren!”

Surrey. Maren forced herself out from under
Teige’s arm and accepted the hands Surrey held out. But she
couldn’t stand yet. “I’m fine,” she finally managed. “I was
startled by Lord Teige and tripped. I think I sprained my
ankle.”

“Then you must let me escort you back,”
Teige insisted.

“No.” She shifted just outside his reach and
tried to keep the panic from her voice. “No, I can manage by
myself.”

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I
didn’t help?”

Before she could move any further away, he
grabbed her arm and she cried out and pulled away. Her shoulder
felt as if he’d stabbed a knife through it. And it wasn’t like the
pain she’d felt before. It didn’t fade to a dull ache. It spread
down her arm and across her chest and back, as if it were burying
itself deep into her body. She scrambled back out of his reach, but
she couldn’t look away and knew she’d betrayed her horror.

He didn’t move to help her again, instead
staring at her with raised brows, as if he’d discovered something
that surprised him. No, not surprised him. Confirmed what he
already knew. And by the way his lips raised the tiniest bit on one
side, gave him some kind of satisfaction. Maren shivered, unable to
dismiss the suspicion that he’d touched her that last time on
purpose.

“Maren?”

Even though she registered that Surrey was
calling her name, her gaze was locked with Teige’s.

“Maren!”

She turned wide eyes to Surrey but didn’t
feel physically present, only aware of Teige’s scrutiny, and of the
pain that had only subsided slightly.

“Maren,” Surrey said again. “What’s
wrong?”

She blinked. “I…” She looked down, desperate
for some explanation. “I think I might have hurt my ankle more than
I thought.”

“Well, you don’t look good. Why don’t we
walk you back?”

She shot a sideways glance at Teige, whose
face was now a mask of concern.

“Yes, Lady Maren,” Teige came forward and
she shrank against Surrey. “Let us make sure you get back
safely.”

“No.” She forced herself to straighten,
despite the pain, and stepped away from Surrey. “Really, I wouldn’t
want to inconvenience you.”

She hurried away as fast as she could
manage, making sure to mimic a convincing limp. It wasn’t until she
knew she was out of sight that she collapsed onto a nearby bench
and let fear overwhelm her.

Something was very, very wrong. Teige had
power over her that he shouldn’t. And it was unquestionably more
than a simple talisman.

Eight

No matter how many times she’d
gone into her father’s study over past two years, it hadn’t gotten
easier. Her father’s ghost still stared up at her from where he’d
died. Philip’s hurtful words still rang in her ears.

She tried to fight the memories, but they
refused to go away. She’d ignored them for too long, shutting them
behind an emotional wall she was terrified to breach…

Her father sat at his desk, a book propped
against his knees, while Maren paced erratically across the small
space. She didn’t understand his ability to remain calm.

No one had seen Philip since last night,
when he’d fled the Great Hall, leaving her staring after him. She
squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to remember Kern demanding the
return of his son, Philip shoving her behind him, her own shock,
the way Philip’s body had stiffened even as he stepped forward to
face Kern, his refusal to leave the castle, or the look in his eyes
as they met hers when it was all over. As if she’d somehow betrayed
him.

“We have to find him. Something’s
wrong.”

“No,” her father said. “When he’s ready,
he’ll come.”

Which wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Philip
was avoiding her. She knew it. She just didn’t know why.

“Maren,” her father sighed. “He’ll
come.”

She had to believe that. Otherwise,
she’d—

The door clicked shut behind her, and she
spun around to see Philip. She wanted to run to him, to throw her
arms around him and tell him it was all right. But he wasn’t even
looking at her. His eyes were glued to her father.

“You knew?”

He didn’t sound like himself. He was angry,
his voice harsh and his words thrown at her father as if they alone
could injure him.

And yet her father still managed to remain
calm. “I did.”

Philip clenched his fists, his knuckles
white with tension. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I promised your mother I wouldn’t. She came
to me for help, to save you from Kern. She didn’t want his
influence in your life.”

Maren realized she was holding her breath.
Her father had always known who Philip really was?

“You still should have told me,” Philip
spat. “Especially when I got older. I could have handled it.”

“Maybe,” her father remarked. “It wasn’t my
decision to make.”

Philip scowled but then it faded. “How could
you?” he whispered. “You were like a second father to me.”

“And you are like a son.” Her father paused.
“But even without the promise to your mother, I wouldn’t have
wanted you to know. I was afraid Kern would find you.”

“Well, he did find me, despite your best
efforts,” Philip said, his voice cold. “I’ll never forgive you for
this.”

Her father’s face fell, and she wanted to
run between them, to make everything right again.

“I’m sorry, Philip.” Her father stood and
walked to the door. “I truly am. I never wanted to hurt you. I only
wanted what was best for you.”

Even after he was gone, Philip didn’t move,
and she didn’t know what to say. Part of her was furious with him
for how he’d treated her father. Part of her understood what he
must be going through.

“Philip?”

He flinched, almost in surprise, like he
hadn’t even remembered she was there.

She took a step towards him, but he held out
his hand. “Don’t.” He just stared at her for a long time, as if he
didn’t know who she was and was trying to figure it out.

“Philip, please tell me what’s wrong,” she
begged.

“What’s wrong?” He barked out a laugh. “How
dare you ask me that?”

“Because I don’t know,” she cried. “You’re
like a stranger right now.”

“The feeling is mutual.” He strode across
the room and grabbed her hard by the shoulders. “Why didn’t you
tell me the truth? I loved you. How could you have kept something
like this from me?”

“I…I didn’t know,” she whispered.

He all but threw her away from him. “At
least have the courtesy of not lying to me.”

“I’m not lying. I didn’t know, not until
last night. My father never told me. I was just as shocked as you
were.”

“You expect me to believe that?” He scowled
and crossed his arms over his chest. “You were the one who gave me
the ring, Maren. Kern’s ring. Your father told you it would protect
me.”

Her stomach twisted into a painful knot. “My
father only told me it would guard you against magic, against Kern,
not that it only protected someone who shared Kern’s blood.”

Philip threw his hands up. “And I’m his
son!”

He set his mouth in a firm line and she felt
her heart drop.

“You said you loved me,” he continued. “I
believed you.” He took a deep breath. “I still believe you. But
love isn’t enough, is it? Fear is stronger. And you’re afraid of
what I could become, of who I am, of whether I’ll turn out like
him, like Kern. That’s why you didn’t press your father harder for
his consent to our engagement.”

“No!” Her cry felt as if it was ripped from
her. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’re in shock. Kern’s words
are poisoning your mind. You’re angry and—”

“Yes, I’m angry. But I am thinking clearly –
for the first time.”

The strength of his misplaced feelings
overwhelmed her, but she couldn’t give up. “I don’t care who your
father is. And knowing the truth doesn’t change the way I feel
about you. I love you. You need to believe me. You need to trust
me.”

“I wish I could.” He closed his eyes and let
out a long breath.

For a long minute they just stared at each
other, and then he pulled the ring off his finger and held it out
to her.

“No,” she backed away. “You need it. To
protect yourself against Kern. What if he comes after you? What
if—”

“I don’t want it.”

“But it’s yours,” she insisted, desperate
for something to cling to, some sign he still cared. “I gave it to
you.”

“And I’m giving it back. I don’t want
anything to remember you by.” He placed it on the table and
disappeared through the door. He never looked back.

She’d always wondered about girls who cried
over a broken heart. Now she understood. It was something
intangible that she couldn’t explain. But it brought with it a
physical pain that shot through her chest and robbed her of
breath.

She dropped her head into her hands,
blocking out her view of a room that had once brought her so much
happiness.

Then she shook her head. She hadn’t come
here to visit painful memories. She’d come for answers.

Rolling the ladder over, she climbed up to
the top, to where she’d reshelved the books on magic after the
cannon fire had scattered them across the floor. These were the
books she’d searched over and over during the siege, hoping they’d
contain a way to defeat Kern. She scanned every title, knowing them
all by heart, and therefore dismissing every one. None of them
explained Teige’s power over her. Frustrated, she leaned her head
against the molding and let out a long breath.

Which is when she noticed something odd.

A small, and very old, book was laying
behind the others. She grabbed it and read the title – “The Magic
of Healing” – and almost dropped it in surprise. If anyone needed
healing, it was her. And it had been here all along, hiding in
plain sight.

She crossed to the windows and curled up in
a musty, overstuffed chair that had always been her favorite and
began to read. A lot of it was useless, dealing mostly with common
ailments. She flipped back to the beginning, searching for a list
of section titles. And there it was, section forty-seven, the last
in the book. “Magical Injuries.”

Her fingers couldn’t flip the pages fast
enough, but she finally found it, skimming the words for anything
that might give her answers. At first it looked hopeful. Although
there was no cure, magical injuries weren’t usually fatal. For the
most part, once the initial damage was done, the injury didn’t
change. The person just had to learn to deal with the pain. But
that could be tricky, and the levels of pain differed. Since the
injury was caused by the mage leaving a tiny portion of his power
inside a body that wasn’t used to magic, the level of pain was
often determined by the skill the mage possessed and whether it was
intended to kill or merely meant to injure.

Well, that was one question she knew the
answer to. Hers was definitely meant to kill. Only the presence of
a heavy iron door had saved her life that day. And as for the skill
of the mage…unfortunately she also knew the answer to that.

She read on, and felt her
mouth grow dry. “
Although most people
carrying a mark of magic are able to live out their lives in
relative comfort, for those who have the magic triggered, the
results are always the same: a slow, painful death. For some it
takes years, for others months, but no one has been known to
survive
.”

The book fell to her lap. A trigger. The
magic, Kern’s magic, inside her wound had been triggered. She was
dying. The truth of it almost knocked her breath away, and for a
few minutes time seemed to stop. Then she was bombarded with
memories of everyone important in her life: Adare, Daric, Philip…
It would all be gone. Before she was ready. Before she’d even truly
lived. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to cry, instead sitting
numb with shock, until eventually she couldn’t even do that
anymore. She picked the book back up with shaking hands, knowing
that whatever the trigger was, it had to do with Teige. She turned
to where she’d left off.

“Although those whose magic
is triggered will eventually die, it rarely happens. The magic can
only be triggered by a mage – sometimes even by
accident.
”

She closed the book. Lord Teige was a mage.
A powerful one. The question was whether he was hurting her on
purpose. After the events in town, she was more inclined to
consider it a possibility.

But at least one piece suddenly slid into
place. The help of a mage would explain why Philip could defeat
Kern so easily. And she could perfectly understand the secrecy.
Kern had become the epitome of a dark mage. He’d put fear into the
people’s hearts. Now anyone with even the smallest hint of magic
was regarded with suspicion. She guessed even Philip didn’t know
what Teige was, that he didn’t know what Teige had done. Even if he
had suspected, he would have disregarded it immediately. Everyone
knew all the powerful mages in Tredare were gone.