Borrowed Magic

by Shari Lambert

  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.”

  H
er 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.

  If she didn’t have the magic in her body to warn her, she would be as blind as everyone else. Teige had helped save the kingdom. He’d made it possible for Philip to kill Kern.

  Everything he’d done seemed good, and she wanted to believe he was just an unwitting player in all of this. But she couldn’t ignore the way he’d looked at her this morning. As if he’d been trying to hurt her.

  And then it struck her, causing her heart to beat faster, that Teige was a powerful mage from the East, perhaps a distant relative of a ruling lord there – and that Kern was also from the East. She hugged the book to her chest. Maybe Teige didn’t avoid his past because it was too painful. Maybe he avoided it because he didn’t want anyone to know. Not just that he was a mage, but that he was related to Kern. A cousin. A nephew. A— Her breath caught. A son. Maybe Philip had a brother. It would explain the bond between him and Teige. And if Teige had loved his father, it might also explain the look she saw him give Daric that day in the square – as if he hated him.

  No. She shook her head. No! He helped kill Kern. There must be something else, something she hadn’t thought of.

  And she had to find out what.

  Nine

  Maren slipped her dress over her shoulders. Even that small movement hurt. Her shoulder, back, and chest all felt bruised. More slowly, she raised her arms and looked in the mirror. Tired. Pale. That was what stared back at her. The image of someone who was slowly dying.

  She had debated whether to tell Daric and Adare. For now, she’d decided not to, unwilling to see the sorrow in their eyes and know she was the cause. Besides, they’d never let her out of their sight, and right now she needed the freedom to discover the truth and figure out what to do about Teige.

  Him being a mage was another thing she decided to keep from the king and queen. Based on what she saw that day in town, Teige already suspected more than was good. And for reasons she couldn’t even put into words, she didn’t want those suspicions to become more. If she told Adare, or anyone else, she was afraid that’s exactly what would happen. Adare would tell Daric. D
aric would tell Teige – even if it wasn’t because he believed it was true. What would happen then, she didn’t know, but she didn’t want to find out until she discovered what his intentions were.

  Which wasn’t going to be right now. Adare was waiting. She was sure to notice something was wrong, but hopefully Maren could convince her she’d just had a bad night, or…something.

  She closed her bedroom door a little too hard and had to lean her head against the doorframe as the now-all-too-familiar pain raced down her arm.

  “Are you all right?”

  A hand was under her elbow, supporting her. Philip. She didn’t even know he’d returned, but here he was, eyes boring into her, full of concern. And seeing things she didn’t want him to see.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She took a step further down the hall, hoping he’d leave her alone, that he wouldn’t ask the questions he’d been desperate to ask before he left, but he grabbed her arm – the right one this time.

  “You’re not all right.” His eyes scanned her face. “I’ve only been gone a few weeks, and I can see a difference.”

  “Philip.” She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let go.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Kern hurting you?”

  Her eyes flew to his. “The queen is waiting.”

  “I’ve been waiting longer.”

  She tried to pull away again but he held firm. “I’ll make sure to tell her you said that.”

  His mouth clenched in annoyance, but he still didn’t let go. “Fine. Now answer my question. Why didn’t you tell me that Kern, my father, attacked you, leaving an injury that won’t ever heal? Why didn’t you tell me you went to the other kingdoms and asked for their help, despite the danger, despite the fact that Kern’s spies were already watching the city?”

  Daric really had told him everything.

  Philip ran a hand over his face. “Why, Maren? Why did you do it?”