Free Siege: A Borrowed Magic Novella by Shari Lambert Page A

they’d
reached the moment she’d been dreading.
    “Lord Philip, Lord Teige, I’d like to present
Lady Maren, my First Lady.”
    Philip stiffened and hesitated for the
tiniest of seconds before facing her.
    She sank into a graceful curtsey. “My Lord.”
His hand trembled as he took hers. Or maybe it was her own.
    For a moment he just stared, and her heart
leapt at the tenderness – and relief – in his gaze, but then his
mouth hardened into an angry line. He released her hand and took a
barely discernable step back. “Lady Maren. It’s a pleasure.” The
words were distant and cold, thrown at her with such force she
flinched.
    He turned to Teige. “Lady Maren and I grew up
together and were always in some kind of trouble.” His smile was
purely on the surface. “I remember one time in particular. Her
father caught us climbing onto the castle roof. I was probably
eleven; she was eight. We knew if we didn’t come up with a good
excuse, we wouldn’t be allowed outside for a month. We both sat
there shaking, not knowing what to say, when Lady Maren blurted out
a story about trying to save a nest of birds from a hawk. She even
managed a few tears for effect. Luckily for us, there actually was
a hawk flying overhead. Not only did her father believe us, we
didn’t even get punished.” He paused and looked at her with
something approaching hatred. “I never would have believed she
could lie so well.”
    For a second the words hung in the air
between them, and Maren blinked back tears, refusing to let him see
how much he’d hurt her. A moment later, Adare, her polite smile
frozen in place, took advantage of the silence to present him to
Kira. He didn’t look back.
    She was left facing Lord Teige, who stared
after his friend with knitted brows before offering his hand. “I’m
always pleased to make the acquaintance of a beautiful woman, Lady
Maren.”
    She forced a smile and placed her hand in
his.
    Intense pressure pierced through her left
shoulder, and she unconsciously gripped Teige’s hand tighter.
    “Lady Maren, are you all right?”
    “Yes,” she managed, her voice weaker than she
would have liked. “I’m fine. A sudden headache.”
    “You don’t look well,” he said, guiding her
to a chair. “Let me get someone to help.”
    “That’s not necessary, but thank you.” She
tried not to look as panicked as she felt. “I haven’t been sleeping
well. Probably the stress of the past week.”
    He held her gaze with his own, concern and
curiosity clearly warring with good manners. Then he bowed once
more before greeting Kira.
    The next half hour was a blur. Not because of
the pain, which had evaporated shortly after it came, but because
her shoulder hadn’t hurt like that since before the siege. She
shouldn’t be feeling it now. She’d been healed – as much as she
could be. Maybe the stress of the past week truly was catching up
with her.
    She retreated to the edge of the crowd,
passing Philip with a beaming Lady Kira on his arm. He ignored her.
Kira shot her a look of pure triumph. As if it was some sort of
contest. Some things never changed.
    She sank onto a nearby chair. Now her head
truly did hurt. Philip hated her. Time hadn’t fixed anything. And
still, she couldn’t keep from following him with her eyes, seeing
him praised by others, watching as he readjusted to the life that
had been his. Even now, Kira hung on one arm, Teige stood to his
right. And a large crowd had gathered around them. Laughter and
smiles flowed freely – until someone dared ask the question
everyone wanted the answer to.
    “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