Four

Maren’s life felt like one big mess of confusion. With Philip. With the ever-growing and all-too-familiar pain. With everything.

She felt off balance, lost. She was a different person than before the siege. Then, anytime society had been too much, she’d been able to escape with her father. She helped him repair books, catalog his latest acquisitions, small things that didn’t matter outside his library. They mattered to her.

Even during the siege, her life had meant something. Every day, she and Adare had gone into the city to help with the sick and hungry. They’d cooked, washed, played with the children, and shown the people that the queen still had hope. When Maren wasn’t in the city, she was often with the Council. Well, what was left of the Council, those who were trapped inside Delorme’s walls. It wasn’t an official position, but Daric needed advisors. And she was her father’s daughter. Not that she felt qualified. But she knew more about Kern than anyone.

He’d become an obsession. Every minute of her free time had been spent searching through books, looking for a way to defeat him. He’d taken the two men she loved most – stolen them from her – and he couldn’t get away with it. Someone had to find a way to stop him. There had to be a way.

And then there was now. The city no longer needed her. The true Council had reconvened. She felt useless, unsure of her place or what was expected of her or of anything except a restless energy that pulled at her, wanting something she couldn’t identify.

She picked up her pace, anxious to get away from the castle – even if just for a little while.

She didn’t get far before the wind wrapped her in the sound of laughter. It caught her off guard, and her heart squeezed itself into a tight ball. It was Philip’s laughter, achingly familiar – even after three years of its absence. Over the past few days, she’d heard him make a hollow sound that passed for laughter: polite, contrived, forced. But this was different. This was true and pure, emanating from somewhere deep inside him.

She followed the sound with an indescribable need. She only knew that something about Philip hadn’t changed, that underneath everything she didn’t understand, was something she did.

He stood on the training field with a few hundred soldiers. They were lined up in neat rows, smiles belying their rigid formation. One soldier stood next to Philip, his arm draped around his shoulders, as Philip shook with now-silent laughter.

Something about the obvious friendship between the two men made the emptiness in her chest ache. She’d known it was there, burning a hole right through her, but hadn’t wanted to think about it. Now she was forced to. But she didn’t know what to think. Seeing Philip like this almost filled a part of her emptiness. At the same time, it made it all the more empty – regretting what she no longer had.

Philip pulled away and gave the soldier a friendly shove.

“All right, that’s enough for now,” he said in a voice loud enough to carry. “We actually have work to do.” Then he straightened his shoulders and faced the men. They all followed suit, their smiles gone, their posture erect, their hands firmly at their sides.

Philip shouted orders. A few men stepped forward and practiced their sword skills. A second group formed in a defensive posture. Another ran laps around the field. It was all regimented, ordered, practiced, and above all, respectful. These men saw Philip as a soldier, not a hero, not a charming boy. They believed in him. They trusted him to train them, and then to keep them from as much harm as possible.

She’d seen hints of this side of Philip, before the siege, when she’d watched him training. He was comfortable and relaxed, something she hadn’t seen from him since his return. And in a moment of revelation, she realized Philip might feel the same way she’d felt so often lately: like he didn’t know where he fit. Kern was dead. The city was safe. What was Philip’s role now?

Maybe being a hero was hollower than it appeared.

“It’s really quite remarkable isn’t it?”

Her shoulder tightened in pain. So much for avoiding Teige.

“It is,” she said. “To take farmers and blacksmiths and whoever else he could find and turn them into this is…well, it may be more than remarkable.”

“Philip is an extraordinary leader,” Teige said. “He inspires things from his men I’ve never seen before. They trust him absolutely. I believe they’d die for him.”

They loved him. That was something she understood completely. Too completely.

She forced that thought away. Right now, she needed to worry about Teige. She’d spent a lot of time considering the effect he had on her, and had come to the only conclusion there was: Magic. What she didn’t know was why, or how, he was causing her injury to react. She’d read every book in her father’s study during the siege, and although nothing directly related to her injury, her best guess was that Teige had somehow obtained a talisman that was affecting her. They weren’t very common, but every once in a while one would pop up – a family heirloom, a gift, something bought from an unsuspecting merchant.

He probably didn’t even know what he had. Or that it was causing her so much pain.

She’d watched him carefully over the past few days, looking for anything that might give her a clue. The only possibility was a heavy gold chain that hung around his neck. He always wore it, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. If he did have a talisman, it could be in a pocket, or hidden beneath his tunic.

“Would you like to go down and watch?” Teige asked, brushing his fingers over her elbow and causing the ache in her shoulder to burn.

She motioned towards the gardens. “No, thank you. I came out for a walk. I was just distracted for a moment.”

“Then I’ll leave you to your walk.” He bowed and gave her one of his most engaging smiles. “It was nice to see you, as always.”

“And you.” She waited until he’d disappeared before sucking in a deep breath.

Without even thinking, she glanced back towards the training field, searching for Philip. But instead of observing him from a safe distance, she found herself meeting his eyes and realized he’d been watching her.

Her instinctive reaction was to retreat, to walk away and not look back. But she couldn’t. She was caught, as if he were pulling at her, preventing her from any thought except him. And then she didn’t want to look away. This wasn’t a formal encounter amidst the rest of society. It was unexpected – almost intimate. In that one moment, she felt as if she could see the real Philip. Not the one he’d shown her, even in their few moments alone. Not as assured as he led everyone to believe. More vulnerable. Even scared.

And although that would have been enough to keep her locked in his gaze, what truly kept her riveted was that she sensed it wasn’t unintended, that he wanted her to see him this way, that there was something he wanted to tell her.

For one second, she considered going to him. She even took a single step forward.

And then he was distracted as a soldier appeared at his side, demanding his attention.

The moment was lost. Before Philip could turn around, she fled.

As soon as she was out of sight, she rested against a nearby tree while her hands and knees stopped shaking.

At least during the siege, she felt in control. Now, whenever Teige was nearby, she was in pain, and whenever Philip was nearby, she was in a different kind of pain.

She sighed. The kingdom was safe. That’s what was important. She glanced up at the castle behind her, the symbol of Tredare.

It really was beautiful, built on a small hill that overlooked Delorme below. Its gray stone appeared to be etched right into the sky and looked so much a part of it that as a young girl she’d often wondered if she could reach out and touch it if she were to climb to the topmost tower.

If only life were as simple as it had been as a child.

Then she wouldn’t know about sieges or dark mages or heartache.

Movement in the city caught her attention and a second later her fists clenched at her sides. Some of the other monarchs had arrived. How dare they come here? Especially after everything.

She could just make out an elaborate carriage making its way towards the castle. Outriders rode in front and behind. Flags bearing a crest whipped in the breeze. Smaller carriages followed behind.

She compared it to the day Philip had arrived. He hadn’t come in a carriage, waving flags and proclaiming his identity.

But the entire city had cheered.

Now, it was silent, as if even the walls distrusted outsiders and what they might bring.