Borrowed Magic

by Shari Lambert

  “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.

  Her breath caught at the beauty she was no longer accustomed to and that seemed unreal, too perfect to believe. Everything had been scrubbed clean. New velvet draperies hung at the windows, and the stained-glass windows that made up an entire wall of the ballroom had been replaced. They sparkled as the moonlight filtered into the room, throwing thin shards of color across the rose-colored marble floor that had been polished to an almost mirror-like brilliance. She blinked, wondering
for the slightest of seconds if this was all a dream.

  She pushed her way through the crowd, acknowledging an acquaintance here and there, and feeling bombarded with celebration. Kern was dead. His shadow didn’t haunt them.

  But it still haunted her. She couldn’t forget what he’d done. What she’d seen. She wasn’t sure she ever would.

  She forced those thoughts out of her head. Tonight was for moving forward and forgetting the past. Everything she desperately wanted to do.

  Taking a deep breath, she wove her way around the long tables that stretched the length of the room until she stood in front of the head table. It was normally set for five or six people, but tonight had been expanded to nine. Her usual seat, the one on Adare’s right, was already occupied by Lord Teige, who was engaged in an animated discussion with Adare. Maren’s eyes drifted further along the table, only to find each seat filled. For a brief moment, she just stood there, unsure of what to do.

  “Maren!” Daric took her hands and placed a kiss on each of her cheeks. “How are you, my dear? You look absolutely stunning.”

  As always, she couldn’t help but feel safe with this man who was almost like a brother. “I’m well, Your Majesty.”

  He frowned but there was a sparkle in his eye. “So formal?”

  “It’s a formal occasion,” she said with mock seriousness.

  “Well, as long as you remember to call me Daric when we’re not surrounded by all the ridiculous fools who think it matters, I’ll forgive you.” He placed her hand on his arm and motioned to the room. “Isn’t it amazing?”

  “I’m not sure amazing covers it,” she replied. “Miraculous, maybe. When did it all get done? I haven’t even seen anyone working.”

  Daric shrugged. “I don’t know. One of the only perks of this job is that I don’t have to worry about details. But I think Lord Teige had something to do with it.” He nodded towards the tables. “I hope you don’t mind, but we rearranged the seating tonight. Berk and Croy insisted on sitting near our new heroes. I think they hope some of the awe will rub off onto them.”

  She choked on a laugh.

  “Exactly,” Daric said with a grin. “Then Teige asked to sit by Adare, which seemed more than appropriate. And of course Philip is next to me. Which leaves one spot for you.”

  “But…” Glancing back up at the table, she saw the empty spot next to Philip and felt her palms go moist. She’d prepared herself to be in the same room as him, to maybe even have to talk to him for a few minutes. She hadn’t anticipated being his companion for the entire evening.

  “No arguing.” Daric must have sensed her hesitation. “Someone has to be Philip’s dinner partner. And I know it’s something every woman here would die for. But you outrank them all. Not to mention being the one I like best. And…” He gave her a sad smile. “Sometimes the past needs to be put in the past. You were friends once.”

  “That seems a long time ago,” she said.

  “Perhaps it’s time for new beginnings.”

  Maren bit back her argument as Daric led her towards Philip. Daric didn’t know the hateful things Philip had said the day he left. No one did. They thought Philip had left because of Kern.

  Philip didn’t notice their approach, being too caught up in conversation with the young women monopolizing him.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” Daric said with a smile. “I’m going to steal Philip. Why don’t you take your seats. We’ll begin momentarily.”

  They weren’t exactly pleased, but what could they do when the king had expressly told them to sit down? Still, they couldn’t leave without one last comment to Philip, one more curtsey, or allowing him to bow over their hands one more time. Despite dreading what came next, Maren couldn’t help but smother a grin. She turned an amused eye to Daric but caught Philip’s gaze instead. For one second she thought she saw him return a knowing smile before his face became an unreadable mask.

  “Philip, you’re going to be the most envied man in the room. I’ve arranged for Lady Maren to be your dinner companion.”

  Philip’s bow was stiff and formal. “I’m honored.”

  Maren placed her hand on his offered arm. She felt his muscles tense slightly and glanced sideways to see his jaw set in a firm line.

  Which didn’t bode well for the evening.

  They walked the few steps to their places in silence. He held out her chair in silence. Then he took his seat next to her. She stared straight ahead, wishing Daric would stand up and call the room to order.

  “Did you arrange this?”

  At least he didn’t sound angry. “No.”

  His brows drew together.

  “It was Daric’s idea,” she insisted. “I think he wanted to make—” She caught herself.

  “Go on.”

  “He wanted to make the other ladies jealous,” she finished in a rush.

  A smile tickled the corners of his mouth, and she relaxed a little. It was the closest thing to the old Philip she’d seen.

  “Besides,” she shrugged. “He thought it would be an honor.”

  He stared at her with an intensity she couldn’t pull away from. “But you don’t see it that way.”

  There was no malice in his voice. He was simply stating what he considered a fact. Which only made it worse and reopened old wounds that tore at her heart. She wanted to protest, to make him believe the truth, but why would he? He hadn’t before. She clasped her shaking hands in her lap and was relieved when Daric stood. The room went silent, leaving her staring at Philip’s profile and wishing she’d never come.

  At least for the next half hour she didn’t have to talk. Daric gave a short speech, followed by numerous toasts to Philip, the kingdom, and even the chefs – all of which were heartily cheered. Then Philip was asked to say a few words. He mumbled something incoherent under his breath and then stood. He thanked everyone for their welcome, expressed pride in his kingdom, praised all those who helped him, especially his friend, Lord Tiege, and vowed to continue to do all he could to protect the city. It was a short speech, and when he finished, the room erupted in thunderous applause and a few more toasts to his name. He all but sank into his seat when it was over, and she threw him a sideways glance.

  Just like the first day he’d arrived, she wondered at his aversion to praise. And as she watched him, she realized it wasn’t just that he didn’t like it. It was more than that, as if he didn’t deserve it. Which made no sense, even if he was no longer the boy who naturally claimed everyone’s attention. Now he shrank from it. What had changed him? What had he seen or done these past three years?

  And then there was nothing left to do but serve dinner. For the first course, Philip’s attention was claimed by Daric, for which she was grateful. She picked silently at her food and answered Lord Berk’s occasional questions. When the second course was served, Daric turned his attention to Adare, leaving Philip free to attend to her.

  They ate in uncomfortable silence until she felt him shift in his seat.

  “I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you how beautiful you look this evening.”

  She focused on her plate. “Thank you, My Lord.”

  He took a long drink. “Now it’s your turn to attempt conversation.”

  “I don’t have anything to say.”

  “Why don’t you fill me in on all the gossip I’ve missed. Who’s allied with who? What politically advantageous marriages have been arranged?” He smiled around his drink. “Who has Lady Kira aimed her daggers at now that you’re First Lady?”

  Maren didn’t know whether to laugh or cringe. Being First Lady had definitely not made her off limits – it might have made things worse. “I wouldn’t know where to start. So much has happened in three years.” She couldn’t keep the edge from her voice. “Besides I might not be your best source. I do, after all, ‘lie so well.’”

  She had the satisfaction of seeing him blush.

  “I shouldn’t have said that, especially in front of the queen. I was just surprised to se
e you there.” He sighed and his head shook the slightest bit. “I’m sorry.”

  “Is that going to be your excuse every time you open your mouth before you think? Surprise?”

  His hand clenched around his glass.

  “I’m trying to be polite, Maren. You could at least make an equal effort.”

  She pressed her eyes shut, trying to block out memories she couldn’t erase. “No, I can’t. I can’t talk about what happened. I can’t relive it. We were prisoners in our own city. The attacks didn’t stop. The food ran out. We thought we would die.” Her voice faded to a whisper by the end.

  He slowly set his glass down and leaned his forearms on the table. “I’m so sorry. If I could have done anything earlier, if I would have known, if—”

  “If you would have trusted me?”

  His hand clenched. “You lied.”

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “Then you didn’t tell me the truth.”

  She met his eyes with all the courage she’d acquired over the past three years. “I didn’t know the truth. But you didn’t believe me then, and you don’t believe me now.”

  Philip opened his mouth and then shut it again as Daric tapped him on the shoulder and asked if he’d like the honor of leading Adare into the first set.

  Once he was gone she let out a long breath and clasped her hands together, but her relief was short lived.

  “Shall we?”

  She looked up at Daric and frowned. “For the first dance? Do you really want to make half the room angry?”

  He shrugged. “They’ll forget all about it the next time they want something. And what’s the point of being king if you can’t do what you want every now and then.”

  She was about to protest further when he reached down and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Really, Maren, do we have to have this argument every time?” His eyes twinkled down at her. “I’m your king. You could try to show a little respect – especially with everyone watching.”

  “I could try, but you know me.” She wrapped her arm through his. “I don’t much like autocratic commands.”