* * *
Maren stood in front of her father’s study, somewhere she’d avoided for almost two months. Since the day her father had been killed. Even with her determination to stop Kern, she hadn’t been able to bring herself here. She’d found excuses – Daric needed her, Adare needed her, she needed to be in the city, or at a Council meeting. But she was out of excuses.
She reached for the knob and hesitated. Then she took a deep breath and stepped into the room. She was immediately assaulted by memories and the smell of old books. The first made her want to cry. The second…well, it also made her want to cry.
The room wasn’t particularly large, or even that well lit. It boasted only a few smallish windows along the southern wall. The remaining three walls were lined with bookshelves, many of which were now empty – especially the upper shelves – their books scattered across the floor, the result of a cannonball hitting too close. Luckily it wasn’t a direct hit. The windows were cracked but in tact. And there weren’t any holes in the walls. Which couldn’t be said for other parts of the castle.
In the center of the room was a large desk, still littered with papers. She walked over, carefully avoiding the place where she’d last seen her father’s body, and looked down. Her father’s handwriting stared back at her and brought a lump to her throat. He’d spent his entire adult life as the King’s Scholar. He’d taught the children of nobility, he’d kept the king, both Daric and his father, informed on anything of import, and he’d met with neighboring kings – before they wouldn’t come anymore, before Kern and magic, before tensions rose and alliances became strained. And perhaps most importantly to Maren, he’d gathered all the books he could find into this one small room.
The room where he’d died, and where she’d last seen Philip before he disappeared.
She sank to her knees, glad she hadn’t come here before. Even now it felt like it had happened yesterday. Disappearance and death. She didn’t know which was worse. She missed both her father and Philip with a pain worse than the physical pain she’d endured – because this kind of pain was all consuming.
At least she knew her father’s fate. Philip was just…gone. She didn’t know where he was or if he was all right or even aliv—
She shook her head. She hadn’t come here to visit painful memories. She’d come for answers.
She walked along the walls, running her hand over the spines of books she’d grown up with. She stopped in the middle of the third wall and glanced up to the very top shelf. The books that were once there now decorated the floor. She knelt, picking up the closest, and holding it to her chest. Her father had never allowed her to read these books, but she knew what they contained: Magic. Spells, lore, history, whatever a person might want to know. And probably a lot they didn’t.
If there was information on how to stop Kern, it would be in these books.
She just had to find it.
Eight
A year. That’s how long they’d been trapped, and things had progressively gotten worse.
After the first few weeks of chaos, Daric had gathered his armies and anyone who would volunteer and tried to fight. That had only led to hundreds of men cut down without mercy. After that, they’d taken refuge behind the walls, waiting for the inevitable onslaught by Kern. Only it never came. Eventually, they’d realized Kern didn’t intend to kill them. At least not quickly. He was content to surround the city, cutting off all contact, all food supplies, everything that could keep them alive. On top of that, Kern kept up his volley of cannon fire – torturing the city in an entirely different way.
Maren was tired. Not the kind of tired a good night’s sleep would cure, but deep down. In those dark places where hunger is a constant companion and despair a daily reality.
And she still had no answers, no way to defeat Kern.
She scooped another spoonful of oats into the cup held out to her. Then she did it again. And again. And again. The same as yesterday. The same as tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. Until there was nothing left to give.
Signs of damage were everywhere. A house here. A business there. All leveled by cannon fire. And all a reminder that it wasn’t over.
It would only get worse.
Especially at night.
Nights had become truly dark. No fires. Not even candles. It just gave Kern and his men a better target.
Maren pulled her cloak closer. Of all the years, winter would come early this year. Many of the castle windows had shattered, allowing wind to whip through the corridors. It only contributed to the gloom that had descended over the city.
As the cold crawled in, so had sickness, intensified by low nutrition.
Adare stood next to her, handing out the few blankets still unclaimed, always with an encouraging word, a kind smile. She’d spent everyday here with her people. Eating what they ate. Feeling what they felt.
They loved her for it. Finally. It took a siege and fear and death.
Maren set the spoon back in the pot as the last of the line disappeared. “What else needs to be done?” she asked.
“Could you take this to the medical building?” Adare handed her a jug of water.
She grabbed it with her left hand and then quickly transferred it to her right.
Adare frowned, as if realizing something she’d forgotten. “You’re still in pain.”
“Not really.” Maren shrugged. “It’s just…it won’t ever be completely gone. But it’s better. I can live.”
“It’s still not the same.”
“It’s not the same for anyone now.” Maren set down the water and sat down beside her friend. “When I was fourteen, I fell off my horse when he spooked and took a jump I wasn’t expecting. Ph—” She took a deep breath. She hadn’t allowed herself to think of Philip in a long time. “Philip rushed over and pulled me up. I hurt everywhere. I was crying and begged him to take me home. He refused, instead leading me towards my horse and signaling for me to mount. Which was the last thing I wanted to do.
“I was afraid. More than afraid. I was hurt.
“Then Philip said something I haven’t forgotten since. ‘You have to forget the pain. You have to conquer your fears.’” She took Adare’s hand. “It’s even more true today than it was then. My pain doesn’t matter. It truly doesn’t. It’s nothing. I wouldn’t even describe it as pain. More of an annoyance, an ache that never goes away.”
Adare dropped her hand. “And it’s because you tried to save my son.”
“No,” Maren insisted. “It’s because of Kern. Everything is because of Kern.”
Nine
A rock flew at her head, and Maren ducked further behind the table. Adare crouched next to her, arms wrapped protectively around a small child.
“We must surrender!” a man yelled from the crowd. “We will not spend a third winter here to die!”
It had been like that for an hour. People swarming the streets, thinking with their hearts instead of their heads, waving makeshift flags and adding more ruin to an already devastated city.
They’d destroyed food and burnt down buildings. Anything to bring the city even further to its knees, to force the people to give up.
Another volley of stones crashed through the window.
“We need to get to Daric,” Adare whispered beside her. “This can’t go on.”
Maren agreed. She just didn’t see a safe way of getting to the castle. Not with so many people in the streets who weren’t going to be happy to see the queen. “Any suggestions as to how?”
Adare only shook her head, pulling the child closer.
They were in the medical building. It only had one way out. Not an option since it led right into the rabid crowd. There were no weapons, no rope, noth—
Maren crawled to a pile of filthy clothes in a corner. Most of them were too ragged to wear, with more holes than fabric. But worn over what they a
lready had, they’d blend in with the mob. She motioned Adare over.
“Put some of these on and dirty your face.” She grabbed a handful of dust and rubbed it in Adare’s hair. Then she did the same for herself. “We’re going to mix in with the crowd until we can get away.”
“What about the child?” Adare said.
“You’re going to have to leave him.” Maren felt heartless, but taking a child into that crowd was tantamount to murder. “He’ll be fine. Once everything calms down, he can go home.”
Adare crawled back a minute later, and Maren looked her over from head to toe and gave a satisfied nod. She didn’t look like a queen.
Maybe they’d actually make it back to the castle alive.