Thirteen years ago it took every sorcerer Daric could find to lock Kern in that tomb. All their spells only held him for ten. And yet, when Philip explained how he killed Kern, it seemed too easy. It was almost like Philip was holding something back, as if he hadn’t told the whole story.
And maybe she didn’t need the whole story. Kern was dead. That’s all that truly mattered.
Still, Philip didn’t have magic, and being Kern’s son didn’t give him some kind of godlike power. He was only a man. Kern was the darkest mage in recent memory.
And that memory didn’t fade easily.
“I hoped I might find you here.”
She jumped so suddenly that her book thumped to the ground. Philip stood a few feet away, just on the edge of the clearing, as if he was unsure whether to go any further.
Uncomfortable with his scrutiny, she reached for her book, but Philip was there first. “You always came here when something was troubling you,” he commented as he began dusting off the worn leather cover. And then he stopped, staring at the title.
His eyes flicked to her in surprise and she blushed, wishing she’d chosen another book, any other book, today. He carefully opened the front cover and scanned the inscription. For one breathless moment, she waited.
“Life is good, if joy holds it. But some, not recognizing their fortune, complain; I side with the first since I can’t deny I have my share of the best,” he quoted softly before handing the book back. “Who would have known my small gift would contain so much truth.”
“That’s what poetry is,” she said, running her hand over the well-worn cover. “Truth in beautiful words.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them like a stone wall. Too thick to go through and too high to go over.
“I came to apologize for the other night,” he finally said. “About your father. I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s all right. You didn’t know.”
“But I should have,” he groaned. “I spent half my youth in his library. I respected him more than almost anyone I’ve ever known. I loved him,” he finished in a ragged whisper.
She had to fight back the tears that stung her eyes.
Philip clasped his hands behind his back and took a frustrated breath. “Maren, can’t we start over?”
Her first instinct was “yes.” She wanted it more than anything. But Philip still didn’t trust her. He’d hurt her. Worse than anyone. He could do it again.
“I’m sorry, I just....” She picked up her book and stood. “I have to go. Adare is expecting me.” She walked past him and glanced back once she reached the path. “Good day, My Lord.”
The expression that crossed his face actually looked like hurt. “Do you have to call me that? We’ve known each other since we were children. I wanted to marry you. I loved you.”
She flinched at his use of the past tense. “Did you? Then you had a funny way of showing it. You left without even saying goodbye, without a word. For three years I wondered if you were dead or hurt or....”
She turned away before he could see the tears threatening to spill over.
“And what was I supposed to do?” he asked. “Do you have any idea what it’s like finding out your father is the darkest mage in recent memory?” He threw his hands in the air. “How was I supposed to react?”
“You could have turned to the people who loved you instead of running away.”
“I thought if I left, everyone would be better off.” His voice was tight with carefully-controlled emotion. “I thought Kern would leave everyone else alone.”
“When he’d already vowed to get his revenge on Daric?” she asked in disbelief. “Instead Kern killed my father and your true parents, the ones who loved and raised you. Did you realize you’d left them to die? Did you even know they were dead?”
“I found out a few months ago,” he managed, although his voice broke at the end.
Her heart ached for him and some of her anger faded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. What Kern did wasn’t your fault. He would have killed them anyway.”
“And yet I’m ridden with guilt. All I do is hurt everyone around me.”
She couldn’t disagree with that, so she didn’t say anything.
“I want to be your friend,” he finally said.
Friends. No, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t just be his friend. That would, somehow, be even worse.
“With someone you don’t even trust?” she asked. “You’ve already proved how well that works.”
He let out a frustrated growl. “You didn’t tell me the truth. After everything we’d been through.”
Her hands balled into fists. “How many times do I have to say it? I. Didn’t. Know.”
He drew his brows together, as if finally seeing something he’d been too blind to notice.
But she wasn’t done. Pent up anger put words in her mouth without any thought. “But you wouldn’t believe me, the person you claimed to love. Instead, you drove me away, left me alone to face death and starvation.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice conveying all the sorrow and regret she could have hoped for.
But it was too late. “For which part?”
“All of it. Leaving, what happened to you while I was gone. But most of all for not believing you. Not trusting you.”
“And that’s just supposed to erase the past?” she asked. “I don’t even know where you’ve been or what happened to you.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter!” she yelled. “Trust. That’s what it all boils down to. You want me to trust you even though you didn’t believe me when I was telling the truth.”
“What happened to me isn’t a matter of trust.”
“No,” she said. “But the fact that you won’t tell me is. You want to be friends? To start over? I need to know who the person is I’d start over with. Two years is a long time. You’ve changed.”
He didn’t deny it, didn’t say anything, and it was like her heart broke all over again. She felt a sob rising in her chest and turned to leave.
“Maren, wait.”
He grabbed her arm hard enough in just the right place that it sent a stab of pain through her shoulder. She winced and pulled away.
“I’ve hurt you!” He tried to reach for her but she backed away.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. Her shoulder felt like fire. It was obviously getting worse.
“Maren.” His concern sounded genuine. “Please let me walk you to the castle or at least get someone who can help.”
She forced herself to stand straight. “No, thank you, My Lord. I’ve been fine on my own for three years. I think I can make it to the castle.”
His face reddened in anger and he took a step back, leaving her free to seek the comfort of her room, and the tears that weren’t just because of the pain.
Four
Maren’s life felt like one big mess of confusion. With Philip. With the ever-growing and all-too-familiar pain. With everything.
She felt off balance, lost. She was a different person than before the siege. Then, anytime society had been too much, she’d been able to escape with her father. She helped him repair books, catalog his latest acquisitions, small things that didn’t matter outside his library. They mattered to her.
Even during the siege, her life had meant something. Every day, she and Adare had gone into the city to help with the sick and hungry. They’d cooked, washed, played with the children, and shown the people that the queen still had hope. When Maren wasn’t in the city, she was often with the Council. Well, what was left of the Council, those who were trapped inside Delorme’s walls. It wasn’t an official position, but Daric needed advisors. And she was her father’s daughter. Not that she felt qualified. But she knew more about Kern than anyone.
He’d become an obsession. Every minute of her free time had been spent searching through books, looking for a wa
y to defeat him. He’d taken the two men she loved most – stolen them from her – and he couldn’t get away with it. Someone had to find a way to stop him. There had to be a way.
And then there was now. The city no longer needed her. The true Council had reconvened. She felt useless, unsure of her place or what was expected of her or of anything except a restless energy that pulled at her, wanting something she couldn’t identify.
She picked up her pace, anxious to get away from the castle – even if just for a little while.
She didn’t get far before the wind wrapped her in the sound of laughter. It caught her off guard, and her heart squeezed itself into a tight ball. It was Philip’s laughter, achingly familiar – even after three years of its absence. Over the past few days, she’d heard him make a hollow sound that passed for laughter: polite, contrived, forced. But this was different. This was true and pure, emanating from somewhere deep inside him.
She followed the sound with an indescribable need. She only knew that something about Philip hadn’t changed, that underneath everything she didn’t understand, was something she did.
He stood on the training field with a few hundred soldiers. They were lined up in neat rows, smiles belying their rigid formation. One soldier stood next to Philip, his arm draped around his shoulders, as Philip shook with now-silent laughter.
Something about the obvious friendship between the two men made the emptiness in her chest ache. She’d known it was there, burning a hole right through her, but hadn’t wanted to think about it. Now she was forced to. But she didn’t know what to think. Seeing Philip like this almost filled a part of her emptiness. At the same time, it made it all the more empty – regretting what she no longer had.
Philip pulled away and gave the soldier a friendly shove.
“All right, that’s enough for now,” he said in a voice loud enough to carry. “We actually have work to do.” Then he straightened his shoulders and faced the men. They all followed suit, their smiles gone, their posture erect, their hands firmly at their sides.
Philip shouted orders. A few men stepped forward and practiced their sword skills. A second group formed in a defensive posture. Another ran laps around the field. It was all regimented, ordered, practiced, and above all, respectful. These men saw Philip as a soldier, not a hero, not a charming boy. They believed in him. They trusted him to train them, and then to keep them from as much harm as possible.
She’d seen hints of this side of Philip, before the siege, when she’d watched him training. He was comfortable and relaxed, something she hadn’t seen from him since his return. And in a moment of revelation, she realized Philip might feel the same way she’d felt so often lately: like he didn’t know where he fit. Kern was dead. The city was safe. What was Philip’s role now?
Maybe being a hero was hollower than it appeared.
“It’s really quite remarkable isn’t it?”
Her shoulder tightened in pain. So much for avoiding Teige.
“It is,” she said. “To take farmers and blacksmiths and whoever else he could find and turn them into this is…well, it may be more than remarkable.”
“Philip is an extraordinary leader,” Teige said. “He inspires things from his men I’ve never seen before. They trust him absolutely. I believe they’d die for him.”
They loved him. That was something she understood completely. Too completely.
She forced that thought away. Right now, she needed to worry about Teige. She’d spent a lot of time considering the effect he had on her, and had come to the only conclusion there was: Magic. What she didn’t know was why, or how, he was causing her injury to react. She’d read every book in her father’s study during the siege, and although nothing directly related to her injury, her best guess was that Teige had somehow obtained a talisman that was affecting her. They weren’t very common, but every once in a while one would pop up – a family heirloom, a gift, something bought from an unsuspecting merchant.
He probably didn’t even know what he had. Or that it was causing her so much pain.
She’d watched him carefully over the past few days, looking for anything that might give her a clue. The only possibility was a heavy gold chain that hung around his neck. He always wore it, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. If he did have a talisman, it could be in a pocket, or hidden beneath his tunic.
“Would you like to go down and watch?” Teige asked, brushing his fingers over her elbow and causing the ache in her shoulder to burn.
She motioned towards the gardens. “No, thank you. I came out for a walk. I was just distracted for a moment.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your walk.” He bowed and gave her one of his most engaging smiles. “It was nice to see you, as always.”
“And you.” She waited until he’d disappeared before sucking in a deep breath.
Without even thinking, she glanced back towards the training field, searching for Philip. But instead of observing him from a safe distance, she found herself meeting his eyes and realized he’d been watching her.
Her instinctive reaction was to retreat, to walk away and not look back. But she couldn’t. She was caught, as if he were pulling at her, preventing her from any thought except him. And then she didn’t want to look away. This wasn’t a formal encounter amidst the rest of society. It was unexpected – almost intimate. In that one moment, she felt as if she could see the real Philip. Not the one he’d shown her, even in their few moments alone. Not as assured as he led everyone to believe. More vulnerable. Even scared.
And although that would have been enough to keep her locked in his gaze, what truly kept her riveted was that she sensed it wasn’t unintended, that he wanted her to see him this way, that there was something he wanted to tell her.
For one second, she considered going to him. She even took a single step forward.
And then he was distracted as a soldier appeared at his side, demanding his attention.
The moment was lost. Before Philip could turn around, she fled.
As soon as she was out of sight, she rested against a nearby tree while her hands and knees stopped shaking.
At least during the siege, she felt in control. Now, whenever Teige was nearby, she was in pain, and whenever Philip was nearby, she was in a different kind of pain.
She sighed. The kingdom was safe. That’s what was important. She glanced up at the castle behind her, the symbol of Tredare.
It really was beautiful, built on a small hill that overlooked Delorme below. Its gray stone appeared to be etched right into the sky and looked so much a part of it that as a young girl she’d often wondered if she could reach out and touch it if she were to climb to the topmost tower.
If only life were as simple as it had been as a child.
Then she wouldn’t know about sieges or dark mages or heartache.
Movement in the city caught her attention and a second later her fists clenched at her sides. Some of the other monarchs had arrived. How dare they come here? Especially after everything.
She could just make out an elaborate carriage making its way towards the castle. Outriders rode in front and behind. Flags bearing a crest whipped in the breeze. Smaller carriages followed behind.
She compared it to the day Philip had arrived. He hadn’t come in a carriage, waving flags and proclaiming his identity.
But the entire city had cheered.
Now, it was silent, as if even the walls distrusted outsiders and what they might bring.
Five
Maren hesitated at the door. She’d met all the kings before. Most of them had been…bearable. One had made her so angry she’d said things she wouldn’t ever utter in polite company. But as much as she’d like to, she couldn’t avoid them. She slipped into the hall unnoticed. It wasn’t that hard. The visiting rulers and their entourages stood around the room, patting each other on the back, smiling, acting as if this were some kind of social event, a time to get together, dance, and drink wine. They were even pre
tending to like each other for the moment – or at least tolerate each other. Their lesser petty land disputes and trade agreements could wait. “Helping” Tredare was more important.
Especially if they got something in return.
Daric stood to the side. He wasn’t exactly frowning, but it was close.
“If you could all take your seats,” Daric called over the cacophony. “I’d like to begin.”
It took longer than it should, but eventually everyone separated into their individual kingdoms: Toreweth, Sevela, Cralle, Elacien, and Prendak. Each king had brought several advisors, usually members of the nobility who had won favors or the trust of their king. Tables had been set up for each kingdom, with Daric’s at the front of the room, and the others spread out in a semicircle around him.
Maren slid into the seat on Daric’s left. Philip sat to his right and Lord Berk was next to him. Teige hadn’t warranted an invitation. He might be a hero, but he hadn’t yet proved himself personally to the king. However horrible the rest of the meeting would be, she wouldn’t be in pain – at least not more than normal.
Daric smiled at her, squeezed her hand under the table, and then stood.
Before he could even begin, King Senred almost exploded out of his seat. “What is she doing here?”
Daric’s hand clenched on the table, but it was the only sign of his anger. She feared she hadn’t hid hers as well. An angry flush colored her cheeks, and she would have risen to her feet were it not for Daric’s steady hand on her shoulder. Philip and Berk, however, did stand, firm defenders of their king.
“I invited Lady Maren as an advisor,” Daric said, his voice so calm it was frightening. “Just as you all brought advisors.”
“And what’s she going to do?” Senred chided. “Ask for the help of our healers again? Beg? We’ve already seen her do that.”
A few chuckles echoed through the room, but they were quickly silenced by Daric’s scathing glance.
Maren felt rather than saw Philip’s head jerk her direction. He hadn’t known.
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