Page 20 of The Dark Mage

The sun was hot and bright over the road, so hot that sweat cascaded down Ren’wyn’s back in rivulets.

Scattered farmers and villagers wore clothes designed to keep cool in the warm Terrepinian weather.

The men wore flowing pants and loose-fitting shirts, while the women donned light dresses with a single strap and loose sk irts.

She had never been more jealous as she itched beneath her structured bodice and layered skirt.

The people they passed cast curious glances but didn’t ask questions.

Some raised their hands in friendly greeting—a gesture at odds with the cold, divided world Ren’wyn grew up in.

Fael easily returned the gesture, offering a nod to anyone on horse back.

That night, they camped in a small, grassy field as the sun dropped toward the horizon. They ate fresh apples plucked from trees along the roadside and finished the last of the hardtack. Fael had rationed their stores well, even if apples and hardtack weren’t much of a meal.

Mosquitoes hovered over their camp, an unfortunate change after the Dark Forest. Fael slept with his second shirt draped over his upper body to protect himself and offered her the extra blanket to help keep the insects away.

Ren’wyn tossed and turned in the heat of the night, feeling suffocated by the bla nket.

Anxious in this new place, nightmares plagued her sleep.

She dreamt of being chased by the rotting, reanimated corpses of Erst’s soldiers.

When one caught her by the arm, her nose filled with the scent of decomposition and his bones and ligaments scraped against her skin before she woke screaming—only to meet Fael’s hazel eyes shining in the pre-dawn l ight.

He held her forearms as they breathed together, Fael’s steady rhythm grounding her until her tears finally stopped.

Fael brushed her hair behind her ears, his fingers trailing slowly over her wet cheeks.

What she wouldn’t give to read his mind—her terror didn’t seem to bother him.

Instead, he soothed her until he seemed satisfied, then packed their gear as the birds began to sing, tossing Ren’wyn a couple of apples for break fast.

By late morning, they reached Delmor, a small village with whitewashed buildings that gleamed in the sunshine. She couldn’t stop staring at the streets lined with shops and homes and content, smiling townspeople. Even as she hid her magic deep inside herself, a warm wave of peace engulfed her.

The inn was the same whitewashed stone, with glass-paned windows. A small sign declared it the Delmor Inn, and she followed Fael inside, keeping him between herself and the innkeeper’s eyes. She couldn’t help but feel nervous, fearing the man behind the desk might deem her unfit to stay.

The innkeeper looked twice but didn’t balk at Ren’wyn’s disheveled state. Fael commented on the inn’s tidiness, complimenting the innkeeper before securing two second-floor rooms. He escorted her upstairs, allowing her to choose a room first despite her prot ests.

“I’ll be back soon with food,” he said. “Relax for a w hile.”

She could have wept with joy at being indoors.

Her room was cozy—a small mattress in the corner on an unadorned frame, a washbasin perched on the dresser, a pitcher full of clear water, and a stack of linen cloths for washing.

Setting her pack by the footboard, she rolled up her shredded sleeves and set to washing her face and neck.

Using the bar of soap, she scrubbed her arms and hands, watching the water in the basin turn from clear to dark gray. Ren’wyn shudd ered.

Then, she climbed into bed. Small, cheap, and perfect—it had no roots or dirt or mosquitoes, just a firm mattress and a little pillow.

Time passed quietly, the sounds of carts and animals outside broken by snippets of conversation and children’s laughter.

The smell of bread filtered in from the hallway. Hopefully, that meant lunch was soon.

A soft knock startled her, sending her heart racing. She tamped down the shadows spreading from her hands and feet, reminding herself she was safe here. Shaking the tension from her shoulders, she opened the door to Fael.

Or was it Fael? Damp hair curled at his nape, his skin glowed clean and bright, and loose, cream-colored clothing—short-sleeved and free of adornment—gave him the appearance of a l ocal.

“You look like you could use a bath,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. She blushed at her disheveled state. “It turned out I needed one too.”

When he chuckled at himself, she couldn’t help grinning back. She spun lightly, as though showing off her current condi tion.

“I think I should be offended?” she said with a gi ggle.

“Very offended, milady,” Fael replied, sketching a mock bow. “I ordered a bath for your room, and I brought you these for a fter.”

He handed her a small, paper-wrapped package. Inside was a light cream dress in the local style. Beneath it was something that made her face and neck flood with heat. Fael had purchased undergarments for her.

He had looked at undergarments at the s tore.

She couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t breathe, her blush creeping to her c hest.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Fael said, and she heard the smirk in his voice. “I asked the shop owner for all the necessities, and he wrapped them.”

Her chest eased, though part of her was… disappointed? No, that couldn’t be. She loved—had loved—Esrin, and romantic entanglements brought nothing good.

No, I am not disappointed that Fael didn’t buy the undergarments person ally.

She almost believed her self.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Join me for lunch? When you’re done?”

“Of course,” she ag reed.

He handed her a roll and a small wedge of cheese. “To hold you over.”

Two girls arrived carrying buckets of steaming water, and Ren’wyn thought she might die of happiness as they filled a large, metal basin. She washed with lemon-scented soap, scrubbing her hair as hard as possible before adding oils to soften it. The hot water soothed her travel-weary mus cles.

She soaked until the water cooled, then toweled herself dry.

The undergarments were strange—nothing like her familiar boned bodices.

Designed for practicality, the top piece stayed hidden beneath the single-strapped dress and was tight enough to support her heavy chest. After some trial and error, she found they fit well en ough.

Once dressed, she stood staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her left shoulder and arm were exposed—far more skin than she had ever b ared.

Vair’s insidious, sneering voice whispered in her mind: Why can’t you wear the blue dress, Ren’wyn? The one that makes you look acceptably thin.

Straightening her shoulders, she reminded herself that she wielded death—she could face wearing this dress.

Everyone here wore this style; no one would look twice.

She tossed her grimy boned bodice away—too filthy to salvage—but set her tattered blue dress aside, feeling oddly sentimental. She would wash and repac k it.

The loose skirt tickled her legs, and she relished the air on her arms. The belt around her natural waist felt odd, as Territorian styles usually placed the waistline at the hips. Fiddling with it for the hundredth time, she took a fortifying breath and headed downst airs.

Fael relaxed in the front window seat, the sunlight illuminating the planes of his face.

She liked seeing him at ease. When she cleared her throat, he opened his eyes.

His molten hazel gaze swept over her, pupils dilating as his jaw worked.

Her stomach clenched at the heat in his eyes, and for a moment, she thought that fire could consume her w hole.

Swiftly and gracefully, Fael stood from the bench, extending an arm to Ren’wyn.

They stepped outside together into the sun and heat of Delmor.

The inn’s patio was set with simple tables, and the innkeeper brought them a tray of cold meat and cheese, fresh bread, apples, and peaches. There was also a jug of cold water and…

“Butter,” Ren’wyn groaned with pleasure. She spread a thick layer onto a huge slice of bread and tucked in. When she looked up, Fael was watching her with amuse ment.

“I’ve never seen a well-bred lady eat like that,” Fael admitted with a shrug. “Though you stuff your face with all the grace a courtier could hope to pos sess.”

She threw her napkin at him. He snorted into his own slice of bread and tossed the napkin back. They ate in companionable silence after that, finishing everything on the t able.

“We’re going to need more money,” Fael said as they leaned back in their chairs. “I have enough for now, but we’ll need to earn w ages.”

“For what specifically?” she asked. “What are we trying to achieve here?”

The question came out raw, her voice tight with anxiety and fear, and she felt like a c hild.

“I have an idea.” He leaned across the table, unperturbed by her concern. “But let’s talk in my room.”