Page 40 of The Dark Mage

R en’wyn couldn’t sleep. Sweat soaked the tiny cot, clinging to her skin.

After an hour of tossing and turning, she stripped off her dress, desperate for relief.

But even in the dark, Fael’s smile and burning eyes haunted her.

Like a ghost of his touch and the warmth of his body.

The memory of that fire made her bones ache.

She finally drifted into an exhausted, fitful sleep, but it offered little so lace.

When morning came, Fael didn’t look any better. His face was drawn, his eyes shadowed as though he’d slept even less than she had. Ren’wyn schooled her expression, avoiding his gaze, afraid that the pictures in her mind might be visible on her face.

Needing a distraction, she grabbed the laundry and headed to the r iver.

Ren’wyn finished the task in record time, scrubbing the clothes with perhaps too much force but pleased with the results. She draped the garments over nearby shrubs to dry, the sound of the stream bubbling ne arby.

She hesitated before stripping down and slipping into the cold, clear water. The chill shocked her fevered skin, and she let out a small sigh as the tension began to ease. The lavender soap lathered smoothly in her hands, rinsing away the remnants of last night’s tur moil.

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice said from behind her.

Ren’wyn dipped deeper beneath the water, though she knew it hid nothing in the morning light. She turned to face Esrin, her jaw tighte ning.

“Get out of here, Esrin,” she comma nded.

He laughed but kept his gaze turned away. Despite everything, he had enough decency not to look.

“I came down to apologize for last night,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically sincere. “I shouldn’t have baited Fael—or embarrassed you in front of him. As traveling companions, I’m sure you’ve shared… en ough.”

A statement wrapped in a question. Ever the politician, Ren’wyn thought gr imly.

“I’m not having this conversation naked,” she said fi rmly.

Esrin’s mouth tilted upward. “Shall I join you, then?” he asked, still staring pointedly away. “Not that I’d mind the show.”

“Turn around, E srin.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender and turned his back. Ren’wyn scrambled up the bank, pulling her dress over her wet skin. The fabric clung unpleasantly, but at least she was cov ered.

“Alright.” She allowed him to turn back.

Esrin’s expression was serious now. “Ren’wyn, I’m sorry for how I beh aved.”

Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she scowled. Why did you come down here, Esrin? What do you want fro m me?

“Please,” he pleaded, his voice raw. “I want to make things right. I remember so much of what we were, Ren’wyn. I loved you—deeply—and I thought you loved me too.”

“I did,” she admitted, caught off guard by the depth of his confession.

“I still do—in some ways. But you weren’t there when I needed you.

When my father sent me away to Erst, I thought I was lost. I escaped—barely—and Fael helped me survive.

For the last nine months, we’ve traveled together, looking for others like us.

I’m not the person I was when we were in love. I broke when you didn’t come.”

The wistful smile vanished from Esrin’s face. His features hardened into something pained and closed off.

“You should at least let me explain,” he said qui etly.

Ren’wyn nodded, though her arms remained crossed. She would li sten.

“You know I sent Bier with you,” Esrin began, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it.

“I authorized him to make any offer—any amount of money, any alliance—whatever it took to secure your return. I was willing to give everything to protect you. I offered your father land, a seat among my father’s representat ives. ”

Ren’wyn blinked in surprise. That’s huge. Her father had never told her that. He’d only summarized the matter with ‘He’s not for you’ before throwing Bier out.

“Bier came back with your father’s refusal,” Esrin continued bitterly. “I panicked. I packed a bag to travel to your father’s manor myself. I was going to steal you away if I had to—but I hoped that my request in person might be en ough.

“That night…” His voice wavered. “The Ashkren army came to Ishvaen. They sealed the city and marched to my home. My father’s scouts had reported that my identity as a druid had been discovered.

” Esrin’s jaw clenched. “He forced me through a tunnel beneath our house. He told me to stay hidden until he came to ge t me.”

Esrin’s eyes met hers, hollow with g rief.

“He’ll never come to get me, Ren ’wyn.”

She inhaled sharply, understanding his mea ning.

“My mother sent word later through my father’s head of trade.

In Delmor, he told me the truth. The imperials executed my father when he refused to turn me over.

My eldest sister was forced to marry the regiment’s captain.

He has ruled Ishvaen as governor ever since, waiting for me to return and claim my p lace. ”

Ren’wyn pressed a hand to her mouth. “And if you do, you’ll be arrested and executed.

” Her whisper trembled with horror. The awful truth of Esrin’s loss—the reason he never came for her—was like a weight pressing on her chest. It didn’t erase the hole his absence had left in her, but it softened the sharp edge of betrayal. She ached with shared g rief.

“Esrin,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s not enough, but I am so s orry.”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She thought of their mothers—his father—people who deserved better. She thought of his sister, who’d dreamed of adventure but had instead been trapped in a political prison. The empire had controlled Ishvaen for almost a year now.

“Your family…” Her voice broke. “Your sister. And you…”

She reached out instinctively when she saw the tears streaming down his face. For all his arrogance and temper, he loved his family more than anyt hing.

But he shrank away, though her own tears were proof of the depth of her fee ling.

“I’m torn between my sister’s honor and happiness and my own death,” Esrin said roughly.

“It’s an impossible choice, Ren’wyn. My heart broke every day—thinking of you and her, stolen from me.

Robbed of any chance for happiness.” His fists clenched, his knuckles white.

“When I heard you’d disappeared from the Territories, I thought Erst had murdered you and was lying to appease your fa ther. ”

Ren’wyn felt the earth beneath her feet rumble with his rage.

A rising wind tugged at her damp hair as a storm gathered.

She’d forgotten what Esrin could do when his emotions were unleashed.

And a part of her stirred at the memory—the wind and rain that had obeyed him when they made love in the w oods.

She still loved him—but being left and forgotten had broken something elemental inside her. It had shattered what they’d been. She wasn’t in love with him any more.

He wasn’t to blame; that was clear now. This had been out of his control. He’d wanted to come for her—but he hadn’t been able to. What could he have said to her father, who must have heard about Ishvaen? How would Esrin have kept them both safe with his powers exp osed?

Yet he had protected these people, sheltered them. Why hadn’t he done the same for her? That bitter truth s tung.

And Fael—Fael had been on the run too. Yet he had sheltered her with everything he had.

Esrin’s eyes softened, his posture relaxing as he finally looked at her a gain.

“You’re as beautiful as I remember,” he said, a warm smile spreading across his face.

She remembered every caress, every kiss under his appreciative gaze, and she blushed—but her heart didn’t race. Her body didn’t warm. She wasn’t the same girl he remembered. After breaking and healing, she’d rebuilt herself into someone stro nger.

She saw the question in his eyes—a reminder of how he had once feared her p ower.

Darkness gathered at the edges of her vision. Shadows crept across the ground, swirling down from the tree branches overhead. The warm summer morning dimmed into twilight, and the birds fell silent. Small animals rustled in the brush, scurrying to hide.

Ren’wyn concentrated, breathing deeply. She swept her arms upward, palms open to the sky. The dark, shadow-filled wind lifted her hair from her neck, and she knew her eyes had gone b lack.

Esrin stumbled back, his breath sharp and shallow as the cold rushed into the clearing. Frost glistened on the stream’s surface. The sun vanished, swallowed by shadow, until she was the only thing he could see.

She shifted her hands in a slow, deliberate motion, and shades stepped forward from the darkness—wraithlike figures, little more than mist. The Void was listening, crouched like a predator waiting for her com mand.

Then she exhaled, releasing it all.

The magic sank into the ground and the trees. Her hair fell back to her neck, and sunlight filtered gently through the le aves.

Esrin’s eyes were wide with s hock.

She had never shown him the true depth of her power before. Even the small glimpses he’d seen at the Academy had terrified him.

But Fael had never feared her. He had relished her power, drawn strength fro m it.

Would Esrin ever have done the same? Would he have found a way to accept her for what she was?

They stood in silence, assessing each other as the birds began chirping again—hesitant at f irst.

Then, Esrin closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms and pressing his lips to hers.

Ren’wyn gasped in shock and pushed at him, twisting to break his grip, but his kiss was insis tent.

“You’re exquisite,” he whispered, breath less.

“Stop, Esrin!” Her voice was sharp, but he didn’t seem to hear her. His arms held her like iron bands, and his green aura stirred—threads of his magic weaving through the black tendrils of her own.

“ STOP!”

The darkness obeyed her will. It erupted from the branches above, icy tendrils reaching down to defend her.

Fael burst into the clearing, his face livid with rage.