She felt tears of anger and hurt sting her eyes. “Because Kern had sworn his revenge on Daric, you had left, and Kern had murdered my father. I didn’t have anything to lose.”
“You had your life, your future.”
“You were my future and you left me. I had nothing!”
His face creased in pain. “I’m sorry. Again. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”
He took a step towards her and raised a hand to brush her cheek.
She knew she should move away, but she couldn’t. Something in his eyes, a sort of understanding, stopped her – even when he leaned closer, and she briefly wondered if he was going to kiss her.
Instead he dropped his hand, and his eyes went to her shoulder. “Will you show me?”
She recoiled and some of her anger resurfaced. “No.”
He stepped towards her, but she backed away until she was against the wall with nowhere else to go. “Maren, please. I want to see what he did to you.”
The stubborn look in his eyes told her he wouldn’t give up. And maybe she didn’t want him to. Maybe he should see what happened after he left. She reached up and pulled the shoulder of her dress down over her arm and heard his sharp intake of breath.
His surprise was understandable. It wasn’t pretty. Black, burned skin that never changed. Blue streaks that created patterns all over her shoulder and down onto her arm, like shattered glass just before it crumbles. The streaks almost glowed in their intensity, and were now spreading lower on her arm. She watched as his eyes traced them in horror.
“Seen enough?” He nodded but still didn’t release her arm as she pulled her dress back over her shoulder. “What else do you want?”
“I want to help you. I want to be there if you need anyone.”
“You want to be there for me now?” She laughed, but it was bitter laughter, full of disbelief and hurt. “Where were you three years ago when I really needed you? When my father died, when I was injured? Where were you yesterday when I realized I was dying—”
“What?” His grip on her arm tightened. “The king didn’t say anything about dying.”
“He doesn’t know.”
His brows drew together. “What makes you think you’re dying?”
She shook her head.
“Maren?” He tilted her chin until she was forced to meet his eyes.
“It’s getting worse.”
“What do you mean?”
She hesitated, but his eyes never wavered from her face, and she knew he wouldn’t leave without the truth. “It’s getting more painful. It hurts all the time now, and the magic is going deeper.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. “I’m certain. I’ve looked through all my father’s books.”
He staggered backwards, but even though she was now free, she didn’t move.
“It’s all right, Philip.” But the worried crease between his brows didn’t go away. “It’s all right.”
He groaned. “No, it’s not. After all this time, after everything that’s happened, I can’t lose you.”
She could only stare in shocked silence. He’d said he wanted to be friends, to start over, but this sounded like more.
“Maren, I have loved you for as long as I can remember. Even after I thought you lied to me, when I felt more betrayed than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, I couldn’t deny it. For three years I tried to stop loving you. When I came back, I even convinced myself I could move on, but I can’t. I need you. Please marry me? Let me take care of you? There must be something that can be done, some cure, some sorcerer the king hasn’t considered.”
She shook her head and blinked back tears that were a mixture of anguish and heartache. “No, Philip. I can’t marry you.”
He grabbed her by both shoulders and didn’t let go when she gasped in pain. “I know you still love me.”
“I could love you with all my heart and my answer would still be no,” she continued. “You can’t have love without trust. And you don’t trust me—”
“Maren, please.”
She looked him in the eye. “Where did you go? Where were you all that time? What happened that changed you so much, that took the laughter from your eyes?”
He drew in a long breath and turned away. “I can’t talk about it.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
He didn’t say anything, just stood there with his head bent and eyes closed.
“I think you owe me some kind of explanation, some reason why I should even consider your offer.”
He ran a hand through his hair before turning back to her, anguish written on every line of his face. He tried to take her hands, but she pulled away.
“I can’t, Maren. Please don’t ask. You don’t want to know, and I can’t…” Something approaching agony washed over his features. “I can’t even think about it. I don’t want to remember.”
Her heart sank. “No, Philip. You still don’t trust me, and that’s something I can’t live without.” She summoned all her courage and looked at him, into his eyes, trying to read what was there, what he wasn’t telling her. It was useless. Whatever barrier he’d placed over that part of his life was only going to come down when he let it. And seeing the fear in his eyes, she felt further away from him than ever. Knowing something had hurt him, hurt her also. Even though she couldn’t do anything about it, even though he didn’t trust her, she still loved him.
“When you left, you broke my heart. Ever since, I’ve been trying to heal, to allow myself some kind of a life. I’d almost done that – and then you came back. Now everything is in chaos again, and I’m trapped behind what you won’t tell me and I can’t explain.” She didn’t even bother to hide the tears she couldn’t keep back any longer. “You need to trust me or you need to let me go.”
He pulled his hands away as if she’d burned him. His expression went from hurt to anger before he stormed down the hall.
She leaned against the wall before she fell over. Whatever anyone said, heartache was the worst pain of all.
Ten
Maren had to discover what Teige’s motives were. Which meant she had to spend time with him, had to endure the pain.
So she sat outside in the bitter wind, waiting for the sword competition to begin. It had been planned as an award for the soldiers. For saving Tredare – and as entertainment for everyone else.
There was even a prize: A day spent with Lady Kira. Daric had wanted Maren instead, but the minute she’d seen the look on Philip’s face – as if a day spent with her was the last thing on a very long list of things he didn’t want to do – she’d refused. At which point Teige had withdrawn, saying there was no motivation if Maren wasn’t to be the reward, and that he’d keep her company instead. She should have been flattered. At least it gave her the opportunity to talk to him in relative privacy.
If she were completely honest with herself, she hadn’t just come to get information from Teige. She also wanted to watch Philip. To see how good he really was.
A moment later, she sucked in a quick breath as Lord Teige approached her. She forced herself not to react as he bowed over her hand, planting a light kiss on her knuckles. Then she pulled away, clasping her hands in her lap and out of his reach. She never touched him if she could help it. And it wasn’t just because of the pain. She’d gotten better at controlling her reaction to that. Now it was fear that kept her away – fear of what she knew about him and fear of all the things she didn’t know but that bothered her deep down and left her cold with dread.
Teige laughed. “Still not my biggest fan?” He settled in the chair next to her and stretched his legs out in front of him. “It is my goal to win you over, Lady Maren. No matter what it takes or what I have to do. You will not only want my company, you will seek it.”
Her hands went cold. Despite the tone of friendly boasting, she sensed a threat behind his words. “I wouldn’t be so sure, My Lord. I am very discriminating in my friends.” She didn’t know how she’d managed to sound so ca
lm and composed, even the slightest bit flirtatious. Her knees were shaking so hard she was afraid he’d notice.
His eyes sparked. “That only adds excitement to the game.”
“A game requires two to play.”
“Are you as eager for the competition as everyone else?” he asked a few minutes later.
She kept her eyes focused on the arena. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because when Philip wins, he’ll have Kira crawling all over him.”
“And why would I care about that?”
He smiled in a knowing way. “I just thought you might.”
The truth was she did care. For the past week, ever since she’d refused his proposal, she’d had to watch as Philip flirted outrageously with every available lady in the room. He’d sit one night with Kira, the next with Jocelyn, even Surry got a turn. It reminded her too much of the past, where everyone was fighting for Philip. Only now he wasn’t choosing her. He was angry, wouldn’t even look at her. He never acknowledged her existence if he could avoid it. And he smiled. More than she’d seen since he’d come back. He even laughed when his dinner companion made an amusing comment. He’d never once truly laughed for her since his return. He’d only hurt her all over again.
“Ah,” Teige said, interrupting her thoughts. “It looks like they’re starting.”
The first two competitors entered the arena. After the obligatory greeting, a signal was given and swords were drawn, each man waiting for the other to strike first. Once that first blow came, the action never stopped until one man claimed victory. Maren clapped with the rest of the crowd and then held her breath as Philip entered the arena.
“It’s nice to see him more relaxed,” Teige commented. “He’s always so serious. Even after Kern had been defeated, all he could think about was order and discipline. I tried to convince him to enjoy himself, to pat himself on the back, but he couldn’t.” He paused as a grin spread slowly across his face. “He didn’t even bother to enjoy the company of all the grateful ladies.”
“Maybe he had more important things on his mind,” Maren commented. “Or lacks your natural ability to charm everyone you meet.”
“Everyone except you.”
She didn’t respond, instead turning back to watch Philip and his opponent take their places. It was true that Teige was more charming than Philip. At least the Philip she saw now, not the boy who’d always been the center of attention. He’d matured. And she guessed it was more than just age, but also more than leading an army to victory. He’d changed deep down. Whatever that change was, whatever had driven the laughter from his eyes, it had also given him the ability to earn people’s respect – something harder to win than mere admiration. Respect, over time, could transform into love and sincere devotion. It would make people follow a leader without questions, trusting in him not to lead them astray. Admiration, something Teige had in abundance, was only a shadow of true respect. It could easily be lost, or shifted to the next person who made an impression. And when it came down to choosing a leader, respect would always win.
“His men respect him a great deal,” she commented, hoping to draw him out more.
Teige nodded, his eyes fixed on Philip with something that looked like pride. “They do. But what’s not to respect? He’s the perfect leader.”
It was the most sincere thing she’d ever heard him say. Maybe he truly did care for Philip. “And one of your closest friends?” she prodded.
“Yes. Although friend might not be a strong enough word. He’s more like the brother I always wished I had.”
Once again, she couldn’t detect even a hint of disingenuousness. Maybe because he actually was Philip’s brother, and they shared a hatred for an evil father who brought them nothing but misery. Maybe he’d inherited his father’s magic and used it to kill him. Now, he wanted a relationship with the only family he had left. Only he was afraid to come out into the open. Because he was afraid Philip would reject him? The people certainly would if they knew Kern had a son with magic – even if that magic had been used to kill Kern.
But what about that look she’d seen him direct at Daric? Maybe she had imagined it. And maybe, in her pain and fear, she’d also imagined that Teige was trying to hurt her on purpose that day in town. Because whatever she might have thought or imagined, Teige had helped kill Kern. She kept coming back to that one undeniable fact.
“Don’t worry.” Teige’s voice whispered so close she could feel his breath against her ear. “He won’t lose.”
She hadn’t realized her hands were clenched in her lap or that Philip’s match was underway. “I’m not worried. I don’t care who wins.”
He chuckled and focused back on the fight. It only took moments to realize that Teige was right. Philip wasn’t going to lose. In fact, he was going to win with barely any effort. He’d been handy with a sword three years ago. Now he was an expert. He beat every opponent he faced. It did get more challenging as each round went by. Philip didn’t win as easily, but he won. Eventually there were only two men left, Philip and a man a good six inches taller and twice as broad, who she’d watched with both awe and dread in the other rounds. He was the only competitor so far who had actually injured his opponent – and on more than one occasion. She clenched her hands together and waited.
Philip’s first thrust was blocked and he side-stepped the slice the larger man followed with. After that it was a battle of speed versus strength. Philip avoided everything he was confronted with, but he was getting tired. His movements were slower. His attacks didn’t have the force they’d had earlier. His opponent, on the other hand, had brute strength to rely on. His arm was longer, reaching Philip with greater ease. He didn’t have to waste as much energy maneuvering out of Philip’s way. Her fingernails dug into her palms as the big man sent Philip reeling backwards before regaining his balance.
Teige laughed under his breath. “And I thought you didn’t care.”
She ignored him and kept her eyes focused on the fight.
“I told you he won’t lose,” Teige said, his voice full of what sounded almost like pride. “He won’t even be injured. Just watch.”
She hoped Teige was right, that Philip’s strength and endurance would hold out, but when the next thrust went straight through his sleeve, her hand flew to her mouth, only to relax when Philip wasn't injured.
“He’ll end it now,” Teige whispered.
She turned. “Are you watching the same fight I am? He’s almost spent.”
“He looks almost spent.”
“What do you mean?”
He smiled. “Watch.”
Philip grasped his sword in both hands and lunged. The larger man, thinking Philip was slowing down, hadn’t anticipated it, and his sword was knocked from his hands and onto the dirt at his feet.
He stared at it for a moment in shock and then doubled over in what she realized was laughter. A genuine smile pulled at Philip’s mouth as he shook his opponent’s hand before the larger man threw his arm around Philip’s shoulders and steered him towards Daric.
“Well, Lady Maren?” Teige asked.
“How did you know?”
“Because I’ve seen Philip fight a thousand times. His opponents always underestimate him. One of the biggest mistakes anyone can make.” His eyes burned into hers, engraining those last words into her mind and making her question every generous thought she’d just had about him.
“Is it a mistake you’ve ever made?”
“Once.” His mouth hardened into a thin line. “I’ll never do it again.”
The charming Teige from earlier was gone, replaced by a man with a past. The same past she’d questioned time and time again.
Which left her as confused as ever. Teige helped kill Kern. The question was why. Did he hate Kern? Or did he want Kern out of the way for some other reason? Once again, she thought back to that day he’d looked at Daric with something like hatred. With Kern out of the way, Daric would be a much easier target. But what c
ould Daric have done to earn such animosity?
“Ladies and Gentleman, may I have your attention?” Daric’s voice cut through her consciousness.
“I have the great pleasure of presenting your champion, Lord Philip.”
Cheers and applause swept through the crowd until Daric waved them to silence.
“And now for his reward.” Daric motioned behind him. “Lady Kira?”
She stepped forward and offered Daric her hand. He placed it in Philip’s. “A day spent with Lady Kira.”
More cheers and applause, this time mixed with a few inappropriate remarks that made Maren frown and ended with a chant of “kiss her, kiss her” – which made her frown even more.
Daric laughed, Kira pretended to blush, and a slow smile spread across Philip’s face. Then he leaned forward, slipped both hands around Kira’s waist, and kissed her full on the mouth. For a long time.
The crowd went wild with laughter and genuine enjoyment, but Maren could only stare. She realized a part of her still hoped they could somehow work things out, come to some kind of understanding. A part of her hoped Philip would eventually realize he could trust her. A part of her hoped he still cared.
But watching him with Kira, seeing his body shake with laughter as he pulled back and waved to the crowd, all her hope fled. She’d told him to trust her or let her go. Apparently he’d made his decision.
She pulled herself to her feet, desperate to get away.
Teige blocked her path. “So you do care.”
She shrank from his outstretched hand and fled the other direction.
Eleven
Maren slammed the door to her bedroom and went straight to the wardrobe. She flung the door open and pulled out the bottom drawer. After shifting through its contents and coming up empty, she tried the next drawer. Again, nothing. It was the same with every drawer. The box containing her jewelry didn’t produce anything either. She groaned in frustration and looked around, her eyes finally stopping on the small bookshelf in the corner.
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