Siege: A Borrowed Magic Novella (9 page)

“What exactly happened out there, Lord
Philip? How
did
you kill Kern?”

Philip paused with his drink halfway to his
mouth, and resignation settled into every one of his features.
Maren slipped from her chair and moved closer.

Philip took a deep breath. “While Kern was
busy holding siege to the city, I was scouring the country for men.
By the time they were trained and I made my way here, I had a force
of just over three thousand. Kern, by comparison, had less than a
thousand.”

She could feel the crowd’s anticipation.
Whether they laughed off the “crazy” man from earlier or not, they
all wanted an explanation. They were curious. And with the
deep-seeded fear of magic that Kern had wrought throughout the
kingdom, they wanted to know not just that he was gone, but how it
happened. They wanted assurance.

So did she. Desperately.

Philip gave it to them, describing how Teige
distracted Kern with the bulk of the army while Philip took a
smaller force and snuck up from behind.

“Then what happened?” someone in the crowd
prompted.

Philip hesitated. Only a hardness around his
eyes gave any indication to the depth of his emotions. “I stabbed
Kern straight through the heart.”

A few in the crowd gasped. One woman let out
a horrified cry. But no one moved. “
And?”
The words weren’t
spoken aloud, but Maren could feel the question hanging in the air
like an unpleasant wind.

Philip frowned. “As soon as the fighting
ended, we took the body back to camp and burned it.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized
she was holding. Kern truly was dead. Even though she’d known it on
some level, hearing it from Philip filled her with a relief that
left her light headed and surprisingly drained.

The crowd obviously felt similar. Still, they
only stood wide-eyed for a moment before the questions poured
out.

It was like watching a group of boys after a
sporting competition. They wanted to replay every move. Every hit.
Every win. They pushed forward, each trying to get that
all-important detail that would be talked about for the next week.
Not that anything they heard would stay the same. The story would
grow and change and adapt until it was barely recognizable. And
through it all, the reality would be lost. So would the horror.

Only Philip seemed to understand the
seriousness of it all. He opened his mouth and then shut it again
and shook his head, unwilling to say anymore. Instead, everyone’s
eyes turned to Teige, eager for the details Philip wouldn’t
share.

“All right, all right.” Teige put his arms up
in surrender. “I’ll tell you everything Philip is too modest to
say.”

Maren retreated from the crowd, immediately
searching for Philip. He stood with Daric and Adare, listening more
than talking. She could understand his reservation; he’d been gone
for three years. But the difference she’d sensed in him earlier was
more than reservation. She continued to watch him move about the
room, talking to various people, receiving praise that obviously
made him uncomfortable. Then he turned and their eyes met just for
a moment before he looked away.

And she finally recognized what was
different.

He’d lost the laughter in his eyes – the
realization of which tore at her heart like nothing else had. It
was one of the things she’d loved most about him. That laughter had
allowed them to share private jokes even from across a crowded
ballroom. It had let her know when he was internally chuckling
while some young woman was trying to win his affections. It had
assured her that the bond between them was as strong as ever. It
was something he let everyone see but that he only truly shared
with her.

Tears stung her eyes as she made her way to
the door, desperately needing to be alone.

Maren wrapped her arms around her legs and
stared out the window. It had been hours since her confrontation
with Philip, but her mood hadn’t improved. She sat in the dark,
letting the moonlight rest on her face.

Below her, the people still celebrated. The
streets were almost as full as they’d been this morning. Bonfires
blazed in every courtyard. Food and drink, scarce for so long, were
passed around in abundance until the people were drunk with
happiness. The city felt alive again.

And she’d never felt so alone, which was
something, all things considered.

She’d always lived in the castle. Not in the
high, beautiful rooms with views of the city where she lived now.
But neither in the servants’ quarters that were shoved behind the
kitchen and always smelled of onion. Her father was the King’s
Scholar, the youngest son of the youngest son of the Lord of
Alaister. A respectful pedigree – not the highest, or the lowest.
Somewhere in the middle.

It hadn’t really bothered her. At least not
much, especially as she got older and realized she didn’t care
about position or title, or that the other Ladies never really
accepted her. She just wanted to be happy. And she had been. Until
three years ago.

And now…well it was more complicated. Her
head ached. Her heart ached. Her shoulder ached more than normal.
She was exhausted.

How could she live like this? How could she
face Philip again? How could she endure that kind of pain –
heartache – day after day and still maintain the outward appearance
of normalcy? The questions had swirled through her head since she’d
collapsed on her bed hours earlier, and she still didn’t have any
answers.

Her door creaked open, but she didn’t bother
to turn around. Only one person would enter her room without
knocking.

Adare wrapped her arms around her. “I’m so
sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I didn’t understand. I
didn’t think he’d be…” She took a deep breath. “Should I have Daric
throw him in the dungeon or would you like to do it
personally?”

Even with Adare’s attempt at humor, Maren
couldn’t find it in herself to smile.

“Won’t you tell me what happened?” Adare
asked. “I know you quarreled, but obviously it was more than
that.”

“It doesn’t matter. I just hoped, after three
years…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He still hates me.”

Adare’s arms tightened around her. “No, he
doesn’t. No one who saw the way he looked at you for that first
second could ever believe that. It was like he’d finally, truly
come home.”

Which somehow only made her feel worse.