Borrowed Magic

by Shari Lambert

  “Maren?”

  Kira. Definitely not who she wanted to see right now. “I’m fine.” She put a hand against the wall for support but didn’t turn around. “I lost my way in the dark and knocked over a vase.” She took another step forward and almost fell.

  “Maren, you’re not all right.” Surprisingly, Kira grabbed her arm until she was steady again.

  “Thank you.” She tried to pull away but Kira didn’t let go.

  “Maren.” She hesitated and looked up and down the hall. “Let me help you. You really don’t look good.”

  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 for
ced 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.

  “I was furious and demanded my son, but Lydia insisted he was dead. I believed her because I thought I had the ability to…convince her to tell the truth.”

  Which also killed her.

  “Imagine how I felt when I discovered twenty years later that my son hadn’t died, that my childhood friend had hidden him all those years.”

  Maren scowled. “My father is not the reason you’re destroying Tredare.”

  Kern laughed. “No. I already took care of him.”

  He might as well have struck her.

  “But if you want to know my reasons for destroying a kingdom, I have to start at the beginning. And that is the beginning.”

  “My father hides Philip and then you kill Daric’s parents?” she asked. “I think there are a few missing pieces.”

  He paused. “Did you know I had a younger brother?”

  No, she didn’t know that.

  “He was a very gifted mage. Even before he was twelve, he was doing things that were unthinkable. In good ways…but mostly in bad. At the time, I was horrified.”

  Her scorn must have shown.

  “Yes, Maren. I was horrified. Do you think I was always the person I am now? No, I was naïve and trusting. I didn’t believe him when he said power was the only thing that mattered.

  “My brother had that power. Daric’s father, seeing how talented he was, made him Chief Mage of Tredare. It was a huge honor. And they became friends. Over time, I watched my brother’s power grow, watched him turn into someone I didn’t recognize. He only laughed when I confronted him, insisting I didn’t know what I was talking about and that in order to survive in this world, in order to get ahead, certain lines needed
to be crossed.

  “And then came a day I will never forget. I’d been married just over a year. Half of the King’s Guard were found dead in their beds. There wasn’t a mark on them and magic was immediately blamed even though there was no indication of magic. Only my brother had that kind of power. He assured Daric’s father he hadn’t done it, appealing to a friend, even pointing out the evidence exonerating him – which was actually quite persuasive – but the king didn’t listen. Instead, he bowed to the pressure of his Lords and executed my brother a week later.”

  Maren still didn’t feel sorry for Kern. Or his brother. He probably had killed all those guards.

  “As you can imagine,” Kern said, “I was furious. I wanted justice. But there was nothing I could do. I had magic, a good deal of it, but I hadn’t honed it as my brother had. I realized he’d been right all along. I needed power, and lines had to be crossed. So I trained.”

  And he changed. His wife saw it and was frightened enough to hide their only son.

  “It took years, but eventually I was powerful enough. I killed Daric’s parents. I got justice for my brother.”

  “And then Daric captured you and trapped you in that tomb,” she said.

  “For which I murdered his son and will destroy his kingdom. What better revenge could I want?”

  She climbed to her feet and met his gaze. “If you hoped that story would make me feel sorry for you, you failed. One wrong deed doesn’t warrant another. It doesn’t solve anything.”

  “You can judge me all you want, but how is Daric any different? He trapped me because of what I did to his parents. Revenge, either way.”

  He was right. As much as she hated to admit. He was also wrong. “Maybe the driving force for both your actions is the same, but at least Daric didn’t allow it to turn him into something sick and evil and terrible. I don’t know how Philip can even be your son. He’s everything you aren’t. Honorable. Good. Capable of caring.”