Page 10 of The Dark Mage
P eria was the first to leave, promising to write to Ren’wyn and assuring her that they would see each other again. Her tender embrace and gentle words drove a cold blade into Ren’wyn, and she shed more tears than she ever imagined possible as they said goo dbye.
Esrin watched silently, his eyes grief-stricken.
Peria finally mounted her horse, turning back to wave until she disappeared into the distance.
Ren’wyn wept until she thought her heart might bleed and her tears could fill the ocean.
It was a sadness borne of love, and she clung to the hope that they would be together again soon.
As Ren’wyn pulled her own baggage outside, Esrin’s retinue arrived. Among them, a tall, slender man dismounted and approached Esrin with a handshake that turned into a delighted hug.
“Your father sends his best wishes,” the man said. “He’s eager to meet the lady who has agreed to take your hand, though he’s shocked anyone would be foolish enough to accept you.”
Esrin laughed, clapping the man on the shoulder before turning him toward Ren ’wyn.
“Bier, may I present Ren’wyn Nyvaris of the Territory of Lords,” Esrin said, pride and affection shining from his face.
Bier smiled warmly, his gaze taking in Ren’wyn’s gentle deme anor.
“Esrin, how did you trick this beautiful young woman into accepting you?” he teased. Then, with a courtly flourish, he knelt and extended his hand.
Ren’wyn blushed as she took his hand, her cheeks warming further when he gave it a swift, respectful kiss.
“On behalf of my Lord Esrin, I would accompany you home and arrange for your marriage. Will you accep t me?”
Esrin had prepared her for this formality. She replied with the words she had memor ized:
“Rise, Master Bier. I accept your generous offer and look forward to my union with Lord E srin.”
Bier rose, bowed deeply, and stepped aside for Esrin. With everyone watching, Esrin knelt, taking a small box from Bier. He opened it to reveal a delicate silver band of interwoven leaves with an opal at its center. Ren’wyn gasped, her eyes widening at the unexpected ges ture.
Esrin’s grin deepened. Raising his voice so everyone could hear, he asked, “Ren’wyn, you have accepted my retinue. Will you wear this ring as a promise to join me in Ishvaen as my wife?”
Tears of joy spilled, burning trails of happiness down her cheeks as she squealed, “Yes!” Throwing her arms around his neck, she clung to him as he slipped the ring on her finger and showered her with kisses. Bier cleared his throat delicately, reminding them of their audi ence.
Esrin stood proudly, leading her among the students and Masters who remained at the academy. Though Ren’wyn could’ve done without the public display, she smiled at the delicate band on her finger and the radiant happiness in Esrin’s eyes as he presented her to group after g roup.
The journey home passed without incident. Bier proved an excellent companion, regaling Ren’wyn with stories of Esrin’s childhood antics with his sister, Rena. His affection for the Governor’s family was clear, and her appreciation grew for the people who would soon become her in- laws.
Bier’s gallantry extended to Ren’wyn’s servants, who adored his charm and kind ness.
When they reached Lord Vair’s manor, the atmosphere turned formal. Bier handed Ren’wyn down from her horse with a low bow before addressing her par ents.
“Lord and Lady, I humbly request an audience to present an offer of marriage for your lovely daughter, Ren’wyn, to Lord Esrin of Ishvaen,” Bier said, eyes respectfully low ered.
Her mother’s eyes lit with hope, but Lord Vair’s expression dark ened.
“Stand,” Vair comma nded.
Bier offered Ren’wyn his arm, which she took gratefully. His steady presence was a lifeline as her father’s imposing tone sent her pulse racing. Bier would see her safely to Esrin, she reminded herself, breathing slowly to calm her ne rves.
“Here in the Territories, we do not discuss marriage in front of the intended woman,” Vair declared, dismissing her.
Lyr’ren stepped forward timidly. “My Lord, this would be an advantageous match. The governor of Ishvaen is wealthy beyond imagining and a powerful ally—”
“I did not ask for your opinion, wife,” Vair snapped. “You are not welcome in this conversation, ei ther.”
He strode into his office, Bier following with a glance at Ren’wyn that expressed both surprise and encourage ment.
An hour passed, and the two men remained behind closed doors. What must be happening behind those doors? Ren’wyn’s feet traveled the same path relentlessly, the creak of the floorboards an echo of her anx iety.
“This Esrin,” Lyr’ren asked at last, breaking the heavy silence, “what sort of man is he? Do you love him?”
“I love him very much,” Ren’wyn replied. “He is kind and good, and he wants me to be h appy.”
Lyr’ren hesitated before asking, “Does he know?”
Ren’wyn nodded. “He does, and he accepts what I am.”
Lyr’ren seemed relieved but remained on edge, setting aside her embroidery to stare out the window. Ren’wyn fiddled with her hair and dress, feeling itchy and restless. The silence between them resumed, oppressive and t hick.
Sudden shouting erupted from the office, the raised voices of Vair and Bier echoing into the hall. Vair’s anger quickly overpowered the exchange, and moments later, the door burst open.
“Get out!” Vair roared. “Get out of my house! You are no longer welcome here. Governor’s wishes or not, my daughter is promised to someone else. Leave, or I’ll have you chained and flo gged.”
Bier’s shock pierced Ren’wyn. He turned to her, his expression resolute despite the ten sion.
Vair growled, “Stay away from her.”
Dropping to one knee, Bier placed a hand over his heart and promised, “Esrin will come for you. No matter the cost, he will come.”
As he reached the threshold, Bier cast a final glance at Vair. “You do not wish to invoke the wrath of the Governor. You are making a grave mis take.”
To Ren’wyn and her mother, he bowed low. “Lady Lyr’ren. Lady Ren ’wyn.”
Ren’wyn stood frozen as Bier left her alone in the wolves’ den.
Vair grabbed Ren’wyn’s left hand roughly, wrenching her from her numb haze as he yanked the delicate ring from her finger. Without hesitation, he strode to the window and hurled it into the pond behind the h ouse.
“You stupid whore,” he sne ered.
“Vair!” Lyr’ren cried, rushing forward to grab his sleeve. He shoved her hard, and she stumbled, hitting the wall with a thud.
“Did you spread your legs for him?” Vair spat venomously. “Did you think letting him have you would break your engagement with Erst?”
Rage and shame churned in Ren’wyn, but no words came. Her mind repeated one mantra: Esrin will come. The thought echoed hollowly in the emptiness Bier’s departure had left behind. Esrin will come.
The aching in her chest deepened, a dull, consuming pain that radiated with each heartbeat, as though her heart were dissolving like sugar in w ater.
“He is not for you,” Vair hissed, stepping too close. “I’ve upheld this agreement with Erst and his family for three years. You will marry him and act the virgin on your wedding n ight.”
Tears welled, the room spinning as her throat tightened, the edges of her vision darkening. Her father’s eyes flashed with fury, and before she could react, he struck her.
The sharp slap stung, the whoosh of air ringing in the parlor as her cheek split under Vair’s ring.
“Did I not make myself clear?” he bell owed.
“Yes, father,” Ren’wyn whispered, blood trickling down her cheek. “Whatever you say.”
Vair stormed out, demanding whiskey, his horse, and his gun.
Lyr’ren reached for Ren’wyn, but she recoiled, ashamed of herself and her mother.
Captivity weighed heavily on her soul as she ran upstairs to the sanctuary of her room.
The woman downstairs might not have helped, but Ren’wyn remembered her mother’s gentle hands, her sweet lullaby when the darkness scared her as a little girl.
Every night, Lyr’ren knelt at her bedside, stroking her hair and singing of the morning birds until the shades crept back into the shadows.
Even now, she hummed broken strains of the old tune, collapsing on her bed and crying herself into an exhausted s leep.
At supper that evening, Vair announced the wedding date: the end of summer. His voice was loud and certain, and the staff stared at Ren’wyn with pity as the words settled over her like a death sent ence.
Her tired, aching soul seemed to collapse in on itself. She couldn’t summon her power. She couldn’t summon anyt hing.
Esrin will come.
Days blurred into weeks. Ren’wyn wandered the house like a ghost, haunted by nightmares that pulled screams from her in the night.
She ate mechanically, only to placate her father.
The fabric of her dresses chafed against her hypersensitive skin, and the sounds of the house pierced her ears.
Books, embroidery, even the forest—all once sources of comfort—were lost to her.
Instead, she stared out the window for hours on end.
Vair taunted her cruelly. “You’re lazy,” he sneered one morning. “You’ll make a terrible wife, but at least you’ll be Erst’s problem soon.”
Esrin will come.
A month passed. Then six weeks. The words she repeated felt hollower each day.
Surely the road to Ishvaen was not this slow?
Maybe there had been more to take care of than usual?
Perhaps he was assembling a force to rescue her.
The world outside carried on with its normal rhythms: bees buzzed outside open windows, thunderstorms broke wild over the estate, and the pond filled with fragrant white lilies.
Inside, Ren’wyn’s soul retreated into des pair.
Esrin will come.