Page 27 of The Dark Mage

R en’wyn returned to the apothecary the next day, practically singing as she entered the small building. Axel was pleased to see her at her usual time, though he made no comment about her previous quiet sad ness.

Fael joined them, puttering around the shop—fixing shelves and offering to get paint for the front sign, which Ren’wyn readily agreed to have him do.

Axel put her to work making salve for an arthritic customer.

She mixed oil with crushed buttercup leaves and juniper needles, humming under her breath.

That cleansing from yesterday’s work in the Void clung to her like sparkling dew.

As she filled small bottles, she heard Fael tell Axel, in a voice that allowed no argument, that he was keeping Ren’wyn within calling distance for now and would make deliveries alongside her while Axel ran the store.

It was such a relief to be cared for, to know she mattered to him—like returning to Peria’s embrace every fall.

Ren’wyn smiled, remembering their practice in the forest that morning and Fael’s insistence that he stay with her until she was fully recovered. The bell tinkled as Fael left for the p aint.

“So,” Axel said, breaking the short silence as she shelved some lavender, “how far along are you?”

“Hmm?” Ren’wyn asked, blinking, not sure she heard corre ctly.

“The babe,” Axel prompted. “Tern won’t let you out of his sight, and you’ve been up and down lately. Is it because you two haven’t tied the knot yet? You wouldn’t be the first, you know.”

He thought… he thought she… Ren’wyn almost corrected him.

She didn’t need a rumor spreading. But then, she reconsidered, staring down at the jar in her hands to collect her thoughts.

This might be exactly right for now. If word spread, it would strengthen their cover. Would she have time to catch Fael?

She realized she had been silent a long time.

Ren’wyn turned, letting a shy smile curve her mouth, and touched her belly softly. “I’m not showing, am I?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Axel chuckled.

“I know you better than most. See you more often, I suppose. After two months of quiet, the last few weeks have been quite the change for you both. I imagine you’re thinking through a lot.

Do you think… it’s not my place, really, but maybe you two would be more at ease if you made things official? Found a place and settled down?”

“It’s complicated,” Ren’wyn admitted hone stly.

“Ah, I see,” Axel said, though he could have no idea what she m eant.

She was spared from explaining further as the door swung open again, and Fael carried in the paint. Ren’wyn moved quickly to intercept him.

“Tern,” she greeted him with a smile and a pointed look. “Axel guessed our se cret.”

When she saw his alarm, she pressed on, “About the baby.”

She touched her belly, and Fael almost dropped the paint. The honest shock on his face made Axel laugh as he walked over to clap him on the back. Axel took the paint cans and snagged a flask from behind the counter, passing it to Fael.

“Ah, Tern,” he chuckled. “It gets easier as it settles in. You’ll be a fine father, I’m sure.”

Fael looked desperately at Ren’wyn, who sidled up to him and slipped an arm around his w aist.

Axel grew serious. “I only have one request, you two,” he said.

He turned to Fael. “Tern, your lady says it’s complicated, but I think you ought to make whatever you have official. I see the way you two look at each other, and it would be best for the babe if you settled. Best for all of you.”

Without missing a beat, Fael pulled Ren’wyn closer and answered, “We have some things to take care of first, but of course”—he smiled down at her—“before the baby comes, we will make things offi cial.”

When Fael tugged her into his room after supper, she expected a lecture on being more thoughtful. Instead, he simply said, “You sly minx.”

She had turned away, unwilling to see his disappointment, but at his words, she looked over her shoulder and saw his wry s mile.

“A baby?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. “Whatever prompted that?”

“Apparently, Axel knew what my strange mood and your overprotectiveness meant. I was going to tell him he had it all wrong, but then I thought… it might be the perfect c over.”

There was fire in his eyes as he stepped toward her.

“We are quite the scandalous pair, aren’t we?” Fael whispered hus kily.

She couldn’t—and he couldn’t. They couldn’t.

The words repeated over and over in her mind as his closeness overwhelmed her.

This was already too difficult, too complicated.

There was nowhere for them to be together in all the ways that mattered.

And yet... Axel had said he saw the way they looked at each o ther.

Heat rushed beneath her skin as Fael towered over her.

“Yes,” she responded breathlessly. “Though I imagine most think I could do be tter.”

He barked a laugh and tapped her nose before stepping back. When he turned and sat on the bed, she almost groaned—in frustration? Relief? She couldn’t tell; her head was full of fuzzy images of him pulling her c lose.

“We’ll have to move on before you’d be expected to show,” he said.

“Though I’ll be honest—I’ve been considering leaving anyway.

I love it here, but I’ve gathered all the information I can.

We haven’t found anyone else with magic.

We should search elsewhere. It may take a couple of weeks to solidify arrangements, but that should be the long-term plan, if you a gree? ”

Ren’wyn nodded. “I agree, though the thought of leaving Axel makes my heart ache. I love De lmor.”

Fael’s eyes grew pensive, as though he, too, could imagine sta ying.

For a moment, there was a vision between them: a small house with whitewashed stone, Fael teaching the garrison, and Ren’wyn taking partnership at the apothecary. Sharing a life. A home. Finally, finally letting someone into the deepest, most secret part of her.

Gods, she could let Fael pierce her to her very core. She could give him everyt hing.

But it was a future for someone else—not for two people on the run with nothing. The vision shatt ered.

“Not yet,” he said, shaking his head. “We have a safe place here, and I’d like to have a clearer heading.” His expression mirrored her sad ness.

“Let me know what you need from me,” Ren’wyn said. “I’ll keep working at the apothe cary.”

She left to change and clear her mind, then they walked into the darkening woods. She was weary to the bone. They couldn’t stay forever—though part of her had dreamed o f it.

As she practiced, her sadness and unfulfilled desire hollowed out her core, making her connection to the Void feel dark and cold. She brushed at the shades—the ones she couldn’t settle or who were so old they no longer remembered their lives—and pressed them gently away.

Then, she began moving through the twelve steps of the Passage. She shifted side to side, circling her arms low, then turned toward her front foot and swept her arms over head.

Breath in. Breath out.

She closed her eyes and saw the fabric of the Void—it surrounded her, clung to her like a second skin. Her movements beckoned it, and as she breathed, tendrils of darkness filled her mouth, throat, and lungs, cold as ice.

Ren’wyn passed to the third movement, leaning back, one hand reaching behind her, the other stretching downward. The shadows danced over her stomach and breasts, licking up her arms like flames of dark ness.

Breath and darkness and death. She felt whole and full and true.

When she tilted her hips forward, she saw Fael watching her. He had stopped in the middle of his exercise, his sword grazing the forest f loor.

“Ren’wyn,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. “Your power is a live.”

She reached for him, shadows beckoning from her outstretched hand. He hesitated, eyes unsure, then took four large, swift steps and clasped her hand.

Fael let his power loose, and fire and smoke played along their arms. Their eyes met—hers black, his tinged with or ange.

“Have you ever blended power before?” she a sked.

“I had no idea it was possible,” he murmured, low enough that she wondered if he worried he might break the spell they’d created toge ther.

The Void whispered to Ren’wyn, and though she couldn’t understand the words, she knew their mea ning.

“We’re unusual,” she said. “Perhaps the first of our kind.”

Fael looked down at their intertwined power—shadow and flame, a living symp hony.

He stopped breathing when she whispered in an otherworldly voice, “We belong together—our power, our magic, our spirits. And there are more we must find.”

Fael dropped his sword and took her other hand. A breeze rose from the ground and spiraled around them, hot and cold rippling across their exposed skin.

“We belong together,” he agreed. “And we will protect each o ther.”

When he finished speaking, the breeze died away, the whispers floating with it. Fael released Ren’wyn and picked up his s word.

She stood motionless, stunned by what had happ ened.

They stared for a moment before Fael returned to his exercises. Ren’wyn watched him in silence through the rest of his pattern, her thoughts turning in ward.

Their walk back to the inn was quiet, and they held hands, acknowledging their strange magical bond.

“We will find them,” Fael said in a low voice as he released her hand at the door of her room.

“Yes,” Ren’wyn nodded solemnly. “We will.”

They passed three more weeks in Delmor, and at some point, Axel let word of their “condition” slip. Ren’wyn began noticing extra helpings at the table, the innkeeper giving her a pointed wink. The maids brought her a free bath, giggling and unsuccessfully trying not to stare at her sto mach.