He grinned and led her to the head of the set forming on the dance floor, knowing that at least for the next ten minutes, she’d be able to enjoy herself, to not worry about what she said, what Daric would think, or if he’d say something to hurt her.
When the dance ended, he brought her hand to his lips and bowed. “Thank you. Except for a dance with Adare, the rest of the night will be too much duty, and not enough pleasure.” He looked over his shoulder as his name was called. “Like I said, duty.”
She watched him disappear into the crowd before she felt, rather than saw, someone standing beside her.
“You’re even closer to them than you were before.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she wondered if she’d ever grow accustomed to hearing Philip’s voice again, if the memories would ever get less painful. “We were trapped together for so long. We had to work together. We had to…fight together.”
“So did everyone else. But for you it’s different. It’s more. And from what I can gather, no one knows exactly why.”
She felt the unasked question hanging in the air between them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“For heaven’s sake, Maren.” He folded his arms across his chest. “The king chose you for the opening dance. And it’s not because you’re First Lady.”
She shrugged – to his obvious frustration.
Then he held out his hand. “Would you like to dance?”
“No.” His mouth tightened, and she realized how she must have sounded. “I mean, I don’t think it would be a good idea.” Even though she wanted nothing more than to dance with him. Even though the minute he asked her, she found it hard to breathe.
“Maren, you’re my companion tonight. You didn’t choose it. I didn’t choose it. But if I don’t ask you to dance, it would appear strange.”
Her heart sank. He asked out of obligation. Duty.
“Let’s try this again,” he continued, sounding as if he was trying very hard to be patient. “Would you like to dance?”
She looked him straight in the eye and squared her shoulders. “Certainly, My Lord. After all, we must keep up appearances.”
She thought she saw the briefest flicker of hurt in his eye, but it was gone before she could be sure.
He escorted her to the floor where the music had already started and slipped his hand around her waist. She had to remember to breathe evenly and hoped he couldn’t feel her heart pounding. This had definitely not been a good idea.
Then he began leading her through the dance, moving in and out of the flow of twirling couples, and she almost tripped over her own feet. Memories cascaded around her, suffocating her with their intensity, and she suddenly felt fifteen again, at her presentation.
She stood by herself, watching the sets forming for the first dance. The other girls already smiled across at their partners. Lady Kira, who faced the very dashing Lord Timothy, glanced over at her and smirked. Maren looked in vain for Philip. He hadn’t asked for a dance tonight, even when the subject had come up, but she still wanted to see him. Maybe the sight of a more familiar face would help. But he must have decided not to dance. Or he’d asked someone else and had already taken his place on the crowded floor. For the first time in her life, she truly felt alone. And she couldn’t watch anymore. She turned to leave when a strong hand closed around her arm.
It was Philip, devastatingly handsome in black and silver, with a teasing smile in his eye. “How can the most beautiful girl in the room not be dancing?” He was ignoring the claims of other ladies of higher position or years and was asking her.
If she hadn’t already known she loved him, she would have then. And he’d called her beautiful.
Something changed that night. They were no longer childhood friends, running through fields, getting dirty, getting into even more trouble. They really hadn’t been in a long time. After all, he was three years her senior. Still, that night was different. It was the first time he told her he loved her. It was the first time they kissed.
And here she was again, in the very same room, dancing with Philip. She should never have agreed, shouldn’t have even come tonight. True, Philip wasn’t purposefully trying to hurt her like he had before. Instead, he was being a complete gentleman: polite, considerate, pleasant. Which might be even worse. It ignored everything that had happened. There was too much unsaid.
But now wasn’t the time to dig up the past. The fact that they weren’t talking was the only thing keeping her on her feet.
When the dance ended, she pulled herself from his arms. He didn’t look much more composed than she felt, and they walked back to their seats in even more silence.
She sank down onto her chair and stared at her hands. He hesitated and then sat down next to her.
She took a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face. “Don’t let me keep you, My Lord. There are numerous ladies trying to catch your eye in hopes you’ll ask them to dance.”
He frowned. “None of whom inspire in me the least desire—”
“Just because you’re lucky enough to have her as your dinner companion,” Teige said, coming up behind them, “doesn’t mean you get to monopolize her all night.”
She stood a little too quickly and took Teige’s offered hand. And stiffened. Pressure rushed through her shoulder and momentarily caused her arm to numb. Pretending her dress had caught on the chair gave her a few minutes to adjust to the sensation, and when she turned back to him, she was even able to smile.
They made their way to the dance floor, and she concentrated on taking deep, even breaths, and accepting the pressure that was quickly becoming more. But she couldn’t ignore the apprehension that had settled in her mind.
She glanced up at Teige, only to find him staring at her with an unreadable expression.
“Are you all right, Lady Maren?”
She looked away. “Yes, why you do ask?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure. You seem…tense.”
She managed a small laugh. “It’s probably just nerves. I don’t like attention, and so far I’ve danced with the king, Lord Philip, and now you.”
“No one is more deserving.” He gave her his most attractive smile. “And I’ve been waiting for this dance since we met.”
She was flattered. He was handsome, gracious, everything a young man should be. And he wanted to dance with her. Besides, flirting with him might take her mind off of Philip. Or make him jealous.
Only she couldn’t deny the increasing pain when he touched her. It had happened twice now, and it scared her more than she cared to admit. She couldn’t go back to the pain, couldn’t live like that again.
His arm circled her waist, and she tried her best to smile over the pain. She tried to flirt around the unease. But when the dance was over, she couldn’t let go of his hand fast enough. And when he escorted her back to her seat, she sat back in her chair and closed her eyes as the pain and pressure subsided. She felt empty and exhausted, as if she’d used up every source of inner energy she had.
“Maren?”
Philip crouched beside her, holding out her glass. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes.” She sat up straighter. “I was just tired for a minute.”
“You don’t look fine.” He slid his chair closer to hers. “You’re pale.” He watched her bring the cup to her lips. “And you’re shaking.”
She set the glass back down and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m fine.”
He still didn’t look convinced, but he settled further back in his chair and looked out over the crowd.
She did the same, focusing on Lord Teige, who was now leading Adare gracefully through the next dance. He truly was fascinating. His smile, the way he laughed in all the right places, the ease with which he made new acquaintances. So why did his touch affect her so strongly?
“He breaks hearts wherever he goes. Hopefully you’ll manage to escape without damage.”
The way he casually talked about her being with a
nother man stung deeper than she cared to admit, and any hope she might have had evaporated. She turned to find Philip watching her and sat up taller. “I don’t think I’m in any danger.”
He laughed. “That’s what they all say. You’d never believe the path littered with broken hearts we left behind.”
She could readily believe it. “How did you meet?” she asked cautiously.
“He came when word went out that I was organizing an army to fight my…to fight Kern.” His jaw tightened for a fraction of a second before he wiped it away with a smile. “I took one look at him and figured I’d have one more spoiled, incompetent Lord to deal with.”
“He wasn’t?”
“Spoiled? Completely. Incompetent? Not at all. He was the best-trained, most knowledgeable man there. He won the respect of his troops, he was expert with a sword, and he was more courageous than anyone I’d ever met. It was like he wasn’t afraid to die.”
“And you became friends?”
“The closest I’ve ever had.”
The almost-physical ache that pierced through her chest was all too familiar. Even without trying, he was hurting her. “And what of his background? Where’s he from?”
“Somewhere in the East. I believe he’s a relative of one of the Eastern lords, but he doesn’t talk about it much. I think there’s something in his past that’s too painful.”
She knew exactly how Teige felt, and as she continued to watch him, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was hiding – even from Philip.
“Why are the king and queen so sad?”
The question threw her completely off guard and for a moment she could only stare.
He must have mistaken her surprise for confusion. “You’d think with the siege ending and Kern dead, they’d have every reason to rejoice. But a part of them isn’t. The king hides it relatively well, but there are moments when I can see the grief in his eyes. The queen tries, but she slips more often.”
“You see more than most.”
He let out a long breath. “I’ve seen a lot of despair. And felt it.” He lapsed into thought, as if he’d forgotten where he was. Then he blinked. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”
“You mean you truly don’t know?”
He shook his head.
It really wasn’t her secret to share. Then again, all of it wasn’t a secret. “About four months after you…left, Adare had a baby, a son. He was born early. Adare almost didn’t survive.” She paused. “Then right before the siege began, when the baby was only six weeks old, he…” Her voice cracked. “He died. It broke both their hearts, especially since all the complications had left Adare unable to have another child.”
For a minute, Philip didn’t say anything. “They have a right to be sad.”
She could only nod as painful memories played through her mind like a nightmare.
When the dancers started leaving the floor, she realized with a start that she’d been sitting in silence for far too long. She glanced over at Philip, who was watching her with determination.
“Maren, I…” He swallowed hard, and she sensed he’d changed his mind about what he was going to say. “I haven’t seen your father. Is he still living in the castle?”
A fresh wave of pain crashed around her and she stared in disbelief. Was he mocking her? Had he run out of patience with being polite? Was he deliberately trying to hurt her again?
“Maren?”
She stood on legs she hoped would support her until she could escape. “I’m sorry, My Lord,” she managed in a voice she couldn’t seem to keep steady. “I can’t…I should…I…” She pushed herself away from the table and fled, leaving him staring after her.
A few minutes later, she shut the door to her room and leaned back against it as the images she’d fought finally broke through her consciousness. She slid to the floor and wrapped her arms around her head, trying to forget the past, but it was no use. The events of that night were still as clear as if they’d happened yesterday, and she knew she’d never forget…
She paused outside her father’s study. Someone was with him and his voice sounded oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
“…should have known she’d go to you for help.”
“Yes, you should have,” her father replied. Even through the door, she could sense his anger. “Especially since you’d cut her off from everyone she knew. You, who claimed to love her.”
The other man laughed. “If I remember correctly, you also claimed to love her. And yet she still chose me.”
Maren’s eyes widened at the pieces of her father’s life she’d never known, pieces that were before her mother, before her.
“The worst decision she ever made,” her father commented.
“No.” The man’s voice was calm but there was something dangerous beneath the surface. “Leaving me was the worst decision she ever made. And the reason she’s dead.”
Maren suddenly knew why the voice was so familiar. She’d heard it only once, a few weeks earlier. Kern. The man responsible for Philip being gone and her life crumbling. And he was with her father.
Panic seized her, gripping her heart in its claws. She pushed against the door, but although the knob turned, the door wouldn’t move. Something else was holding it closed, something beyond what she could see or touch. She pounded until her fists were numb, but it made no difference.
“It sounds as if our time is up,” Kern commented and she heard something crash to the floor.
A second later, a strangled cry that tore at every piece of her rent the air, and she fell to her knees.
Not another sound came from the room, but when she desperately banged against the door again, it creaked open.
Kern was nowhere to be seen, but her father was face down on the rug. She stumbled forward and rolled him onto his back. All she could do was stare, as if her eyes couldn’t be seeing what was right in front of her. Then she screamed, bending over his body and pressing her face against his. For she couldn’t look anymore. His chest was scorched black, as if he’d been burned. Which she guessed he had. Only it wasn’t by fire. It was by magic.
The horror of it engulfed her, holding her body hostage. She didn’t understand what had happened. She couldn’t think. Everything was wrong. Philip…and now her father… She needed to do something. Kern was—
Her mind snapped out of its numbness. She pulled herself away from her father’s body and fumbled towards the door. Kern was in the castle. And no matter what had just happened, her father wasn’t his target. She had to get to Daric. To warn him. Without even looking back, she ran…
Less than an hour later, she ducked into an open doorway and wrapped her trembling arms even tighter around the baby. Then she pulled her hood over her face and tugged her cloak around both of them. It only muffled his tiny cries.
Something crashed behind her, and she heard a man howl in pain.
She peeked into the hallway and then started running. She needed to keep the prince safe. Nothing else mattered. Not even her own suffocating pain at her father’s murder. She had to push it away. When the baby was safe, then she could fall apart.
Footsteps pounded behind her, closer this time, and she veered down a side hallway and headed towards the main doors of the castle. Just a few more turns and she’d be—
The wall to her left suddenly collapsed, the explosion so deafening her ears rang, and she had to struggle for balance.
“I believe you have something I want.”
Kern stepped from the rubble, and she shivered as the darkness around him enveloped her. Then he held out his hand.
“Give me the child.”
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Kern should have gone after Daric. She pulled Justin closer, as if that could protect him. Either the baby was Kern’s target all along, or Daric was already dead.
Her eyes darted three feet to her right, to where another hall led back the way she’d come. It was her only hope.
She clu
tched the child tighter. And ran.
Lights flashed around her, walls crumbled, and the ground shook, but she didn’t stop. Not even when a chunk of stone hit the back of her head and blood trickled down her neck. Not even when she didn’t think she could possibly take another step and her lungs burned for air. Not even when something evil and magical grazed her side. She concentrated only on running, looking for somewhere she could hide, somewhere they would be safe…
She clapped a hand over her mouth, hoping to muffle her sobs. She didn’t want to remember any more. She couldn’t. Not tonight. She pulled herself to her feet and stumbled to the bed, but she forced herself to stay awake. Even that was better than what she faced the minute she closed her eyes.
Three
Maren sat on a bench in a little-known corner of the palace gardens. She needed to be alone, away from…everything. Only it wasn’t helping. She was as lost as ever – lost about Philip, lost about her role now that the siege was over, lost about the future. She had no idea how to live in the same place as Philip, let alone the same castle. It might be big, but it wasn’t big enough. There was no avoiding him. Or Lord Teige – something she was becoming more and more convinced she needed to do.
She’d almost persuaded herself Teige couldn’t possibly be responsible for her pain, that it was all a coincidence. Until he passed her in the hall earlier that morning, and his mere presence made her shoulder ache.
Teige didn’t appear to have any idea the effect he had, and she didn’t want to go to Daric and Adare, accusing one of Tredare’s heroes of…well, she didn’t know what. It would just add to their worry. And she couldn’t do that. Not after everything they’d been through.
But the pain was getting worse, and she had to find out why. She had to stop it before it became unbearable.
And that wasn’t her only worry. Something was off about Philip’s account of Kern’s death. It had been tugging at her subconscious for days.
Borrowed Magic Page 3
