Siege: A Borrowed Magic Novella, Page 3

  * * *

  Pain. That’s all Maren was conscious of. She wanted to sink back into the oblivion that had held her.

  Without thinking, she brought her hand up to rub her eyes. Pain shot through her shoulder and she heard herself scream.

  “Maren!” Someone pulled her hand back down and put something cold against her shoulder. “Maren? Are you all right?”

  Adare. Maren forced her eyes open, shutting them again immediately. The light hurt. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice hoarse. She tried her eyes again, this time squinting until they adjusted. Adare sat beside her, eyes red, looking older. Devastated.

  And then it all came rushing back. Kern. Her father. The baby.

  She let out a small sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” As if those pathetic words were enough.

  “It’s not your fault.” There was no light in Adare’s eyes. “You did everything you could. When we realized Kern wasn’t coming for us, we knew you were in trouble. But by the time we got there…Kern was gone.”

  “But why?” Maren cried. “He wanted revenge on Daric. Justin was innocent.”

  “And what better revenge than to murder Daric’s son.”

  Again, Maren felt nothing from her. As if all her emotion had been killed with her son.

  “Maybe now that he’s gotten that revenge, he’ll just leave us alone.” Adare didn’t sound as if she believed it.

  Maren didn’t either.

  “How long has it been? How am I alive?” Maren asked.

  “It’s been three days. And I think Kern thought you were dead,” Adare said. “I know we thought so when we first found you. The room was destroyed, as if something had exploded. You were lying underneath the door.”

  She’d hidden behind it. Until she’d passed out. She looked over and slowly pulled the bandage off her shoulder – and gasped.

  It was burned black, just like her father’s chest had been. Only that wasn’t all. Faint, glowing blue lines emanated from the center, spreading out over her skin like a web. Magic. Tears stung her eyes again. Her father was dead. Philip was gone. The prince…

  Adare put her arms around her. “We’ll get through this. We’ve lost people we love, but we have to go on.”

  Rage like she’d never felt burst inside her. “This is all Kern’s fault.” She tried to push herself up to sitting but sank back when the pain overwhelmed her efforts.

  “The healer tried,” Adare said, “but Kern’s magic is too powerful.”

  “You mean I have to live like this the rest of my life?”

  “The healer hoped the pain would eventually fade.”

  Maren closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillow. Even faded, this kind of pain was unbearable.

  Five

  Maren listened as Daric briefed the gathered nobles. He’d ordered them all here a week earlier. Many had come. Some hadn’t. Most out of fear – rumors had trickled in for the past few weeks that Kern was preparing for some sort of attack. Others stayed away in blatant disregard of Daric’s order.

  Someone asked about gathering mages again to defeat Kern, to which Daric raked a hand through his hair. There weren’t any – at least none powerful enough. And not in Tredare.

  The lines in Daric’s forehead were deeper than they’d been a month ago. They matched Maren’s own. The pain hadn’t really faded, but as many times as the healer tried, nothing worked. She’d resigned herself to the fact she’d live with pain for the rest of her life.

  It was like being stuck at the bottom of a well knowing no rescue was coming.

  “Have we heard anything from the neighboring kingdoms?” Daric asked.

  His only answer was silence.

  No one was coming to help them. They feared Kern too much. They knew what he was capable of – even if they didn’t know the whole truth. The prince’s death couldn’t be kept a secret, but the cause could. The kingdom was already paralyzed with fear. Letting them know Kern had already invaded the castle, had killed the baby, would only incite mass panic. Which Daric was struggling to prevent at all cost. All while finding a way to stop Kern. And dealing with the loss of his son.

  No wonder the lines in his forehead were deeper.

  “We need to try again,” one of the Lords said. “Send someone to the other kings. Beg if we have to.”

  Daric shook his head. “And what if we haven’t heard anything because all the messengers we’ve sent are dead? Do we doom someone else to the same fate? Would any of you volunteer? Even with an army to protect you?”

  Silence again. Because everyone knew he was right. Kern had spies everywhere. Even without spies, it wouldn’t be hard to track down the contingents of soldiers Daric had sent to each of the neighboring kingdoms and kill them. They were too conspic—

  Maren jumped up from her chair and then gasped in pain and sank back down. She cursed, reminding herself – again – that she couldn’t move so quickly. When she looked up, the entire room was staring at her, and Daric knelt next to her chair.

  “Maren?” he asked, whispering so the others couldn’t hear. They thought she was recovering from an illness.

  “I have an idea.” She looked down at her hands. Daric wasn’t going to like it. “Send me to the other kingdoms.”

  Daric’s face went from shock, to disbelief, and finally settled on anger. “No.” He pushed himself back to his feet and walked away.

  “You have to send me, Your Majesty,” she said, loud enough the entire room could hear. “I’m just a girl. No one would suspect my mission. I can travel alone. Kern’s spies wouldn’t give me a second glance. And because I’m my father’s daughter, I know enough to actually help.”

  A few hopeful whispers echoed through the crowd.

  Daric glared at her. “No,” he said again, even more firmly this time.

  “But, Your Majesty,” one of the Lord’s said.

  “No!” Daric yelled. He stomped forward and grabbed her arm – the uninjured one – and leaned towards her, lowering his voice. “You aren’t going. That’s final. I’ve lost enough. You’ve lost enough.”

  “But it’s a good idea, Daric,” she insisted. “Someone needs to go.”

  “And it won’t be you. You’re only seventeen. Not to mention the last time I let you do something for me, you were almost killed.”

  “Who else will volunteer?” she demanded.

  Silence.

  “Exactly.” She reached for his hand. “Let me go. I’ll be safe. We’ll get answers. Maybe even help. Besides…” She took a deep breath and whispered so only he could hear. “It’s my only chance to find a mage powerful enough to heal my shoulder. I can’t live like this.”

  It was low, and she knew she shouldn’t have used it against him, but she needed him to let her go. Not just because they had to contact the other kings. Not just because she might find a competent healer. Those were things she could admit to Daric. But also because she might find Philip.

  Daric stared at her for a long time. The creases in his forehead seemed to get even deeper. Then he sighed, and it sounded as if he were surrendering.

  “All right.”

  And then suddenly the room was full of discussion. But Daric just sat there staring at her with eyes full of regret and sadness and…hope.