Page 46 of The Dark Mage

The tears spilled, the cruel memory wrapping around her like a noose. She buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed by the ghost of fear and helpless ness.

Fael shuddered, his anger boiling over in a wave of magical heat around them. “Some days,” he murmured, his voice dangerous, “I want to ride straight to his manor and kill him slowly… painf ully.”

Ren’wyn lifted her tear-streaked face to meet his eyes—hard and unyielding with rage but softened by his love for her. His thumb brushed her cheek, wiping away a tear.

“We’ll take everything,” Fael called toward the back of the shop, his tone brooking no argu ment.

The seamstress quickly returned with their bags, thanking them for their business as she handed over their dresses, tunics, and p ants.

Ren’wyn and Fael stepped out into the sunlight, her hand clutched in his. He slipped an arm around her, letting her lean against him as they strolled down the street. Each step together soothed the lingering ache of the past, Erst a specter she was learning to leave be hind.

“Oh, Fael.” Ren’wyn tugged him to a stop. “You should know—I’m taking a contracep tive.”

Fael blinked, then chuckled, the sound low and warm. “So am I.”

Her head tilted, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

“I started the day I saved you from the imperial soldiers,” he admitted. “I hoped… I hoped you felt the same way I did. I thought we m ight…”

Ren’wyn laughed—not at him, but at the timing of it. “I started that same day,” she said softly. “I decided I wanted you—consequences or not—but I didn’t know if you wanted me too.”

They exchanged a look filled with wonder and realization—they had both wanted each other, in earnest, from the same mo ment.

“Share a tent with me at camp,” Fael said suddenly, his voice rough with emotion, as if the words had surprised even him.

Her brow arched. “What about the n oise?”

He grabbed her, pulling her flush against him, their bags swinging haphazardly between them.

“I won’t be able to sleep without you in my arms,” he grumbled, his lips brushing against her ear. “I’ll make love to you wherever we want, and who cares who hears or what they t hink.”

Her knees went weak, but he supported her easily against his solid frame. His eyes glowed with power, and as if he needed to release it, he lifted her easily over his shou lder.

“Fael!” she squealed, laughing as he swatted her backside playfully, their bags smacking against his legs.

They reappeared along the road twenty minutes later, Ren’wyn adjusting her bodice and Fael buckling his pants. In a small clearing not far off the road, frost still clung to tree branches while dried leaves smoldered on the forest f loor.

By lunchtime, they strolled back into camp hand in hand. Fael sauntered over to Ren’wyn’s tent, reappearing with her small trunk and pack of herbs and medicines slung over his shoulder. She watched as he carried them purposefully to his tent, lifted the flap, and walked in side.

The camp stilled. Conversations paused, and people exchanged glances. Ren’wyn felt their curious eyes on her and Fael, their attention pressing against her tightening shoulders. Everyone knew what the relocation of her belongings m eant.

Fael reemerged, striding deliberately across the camp, his hazel eyes locked onto hers. His approach was thunder in her bones. He slipped an arm around her waist, his other hand clasping her nape.

The kiss was deep and soul-stealing. Ren’wyn clutched his tunic to keep from falling, gasping when he finally pulled back.

And then she saw Esrin standing at the edge of camp, arms squeezing a load of firewood so tightly she feared he might splinter the whole t hing.

His eyes—pained and shadowed—met hers for a moment before he dropped the wood with a thud and stalked off into the t rees.

Ren’wyn’s stomach twisted with self-loathing. Without thinking, she dragged Fael toward the tent they now shared. The Void churned in response to her inner turmoil, a cold mist clinging to her feet.

“That wasn’t fair or kind,” she said, rounding on Fael as soon as they were in side.

His eyes widened. “ What?”

“It wasn’t fair or kind,” she repeated, anger and regret clogging her throat. “Esrin didn’t deserve that—not in front of his g roup.”

Fael’s expression darkened with disbelief. “You truly think that little of me?” he growled, his voice sharp and hurt. “You think I’d taunt him with you? You think I see you as some... prize to fl aunt?”

“No!” she insisted, mortified at her assumption. “No, Fael, I don’t. You’ve never made me feel that way.”

She reached for him, but he stepped back, and the movement felt like a knife in her gut.

“I didn’t even see him,” Fael continued, clearly struggling to contain his frustration. “I didn’t know he was there. To taunt him—even when I’m jealous—would be cruel. And I’m not c ruel.”

Jealous. The word sank into her. He was jealous of what she had shared with Esrin, of a past that lingered between them like an appari tion.

“Please,” she whispered, her fingers trembling as she reached out again. “Please, Fael. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I made a mis take.”

His gaze softened, though pain rema ined.

“You’re worth more than I could ever deserve or earn, Ren,” he told her, his voice rough with emotion. “You are not a prize to win. You’re a fortress—a queen—and you choose who you let in. You’re not someone to be claimed in battle, but someone to serve and h onor.”

She lifted a hand to stop him, her throat closing. “No, Fael,” she whispered. “I’m not... I’m not what you think I am. I’m nothing. I mess everything up.” Her voice cracked. “I’m just... small and si mple.”

Fael’s mouth captured hers in a fierce kiss. She gasped when he bit her bottom lip.

“Don’t say that again,” he chided against her lips. “I see you doubt yourself in every question, every hesitation. But you need to see yourself as I do.” He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his thumb brushing her c heek.

“You command the Void,” he said. “You are an unstoppable force—living and breathing death—yet you’re gentle.

Your gift with plants is brilliant. You’re brave and strong.

You never gave up, even when you thought.

.. even when you thought everything you hoped for was gone.

You were strong enough to run, Ren’wyn. Try to trust your strength and let the res t go. ”

Fael pressed her face into his shirt, his hand smoothing over her hair as her lungs filled with the smell of stone and smoke and him . Resting his cheek on top of her head, he whispered, “You make me feel seen and known in a way I never thought possible. You make me dream for more.”

Tears welled up again, but this time, they were filled with warmth and l ight.

Ren’wyn lifted onto her toes and kissed Fael softly.

His arms came around her, his knuckles stroking her spine.

They kissed again, his hands running over her back, hers on his shoulders.

Perhaps this was the only true thing in this broken world—not perfection, but the wholeness they found in each other’s arms.

Outside the tent, someone cleared their throat lo udly.

Ren’wyn stifled a laugh—it was unmistakably Alen. “Lunch is ready whenever you are,” he ca lled.

Fael rolled his eyes, his smirk returning. “We should probably go eat before they think we’re up to something scandalous in here.”

Ren’wyn laced her fingers through his, laughing. “Prob ably.”

They stepped out of the tent, and Ren’wyn finally felt ready to face her friends with this beautiful man at her side.

“Tell me about your mother, Ren’wyn,” Fael murmured into the dark as she snuggled into his arms in their tent after su pper.

“My mother? Lyr’ren?” she asked, caught off g uard.

“Yes,” he said softly, twirling a lock of her hair aimlessly. “What was she like?”

Ren’wyn closed her eyes, trying to sort through the memories and emotions that always came with them.

“She was a dark mage, like my grandfather. Good, but... always sad. As a little girl, I didn’t understand why.

She tried so hard to be happy for me. Sometimes, when it was just the two of us or when my father was away, she was. But most of the time... she wa sn’t.”

She chewed her lip, fighting a mixture of grief and guilt, love and anxiety. Fael traced her cheekbone slowly, patient for the next w ords.

“She loved me so much,” Ren’wyn continued.

“She wanted to protect me from my father’s abuse, but.

.. he had enough cruelty for both of us.

After a while, she stopped fighting. I think she gave up.

She couldn’t see a way out. I wish she could have been free.

I wish she’d fallen in love with someone who loved her back.

I wish she’d been able to master her magic instead of hidin g it.

“I loved her, Fael. But…” Ren’wyn took a deep breath against the tightness in her throat, the weight in her chest. “She stopped trying. She was lost in her own pain. She let him define me, hammering in my smallness day after day. In her own way, she failed me too. She didn’t hurt me—not like he did—but she. .. she didn’t stop it ei ther.”

Fael pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “There was more she could have done,” he said, his voice careful. “That’s not me saying she was a bad pe rson.”

She stiffened at his words, but he ran soothing hands over her arms. “She was broken too,” he continued. “It’s not fair—what either of you had to live thr ough.”

Long minutes passed in silence as Fael’s hand moved rhythmically across her back. She leaned into him, breathing in the lingering scent of lavender soap from the inn.

“Your turn,” she whisp ered.

Fael huffed a small laugh. “Not going to take it easy o n me?”

She burrowed closer in resp onse.

“My mother was beautiful. Kind. Fierce. She had fire in her blood.” His words were wistful, and she grinned at the image of a small Fael learning his strength from his mo ther.

“My father... he forced himself on her. She was the first mistress he ever got pregnant, so he married her—against her will. She hated him. Most days, I hope that hate made his life a living hell.”

Ren’wyn’s anger rose at the injustice, but she curled into his body, offering what comfort she c ould.

“After I was born—a healthy son—he sent us away. Gave us attendants to keep us cared for... and caged.” Fael’s voice hardened. “We lived on the outskirts of the Capital, isolated. My father only visited once or twice a year to check on my ‘progress.’ He was this... stranger who loomed over my life.

“But my mother?” Fael’s voice softened. “She taught me everything that mattered. She taught me to honor my magic. To use it justly. She taught me to ride, to cook over a fire, to camp under the stars... and how to kill if I ha d to.”

Ren’wyn felt his smile against her neck, warmth spreading from his hand as it swirled over her skin.

“Mmm... don’t stop,” she whisp ered.

Fael chuckled and continued, his hand brushing down her s pine.

“The day after I turned ten, my father came and tore me from her. He stuffed me into a carriage and sent me to train, and I never saw her a gain.

“They told me she died of a lung illness two years later.” His voice hitched with sorrow. “But about seven years ago, Dirne and I were on patrol. We were ambushed by rebels, and Dirne was shot. He knew he was dying, and he told me... my father poisoned her.”

“Oh, Fael...” Ren’wyn whispered. She pulled him closer, squeezing him like she could chase away his old pain.

“I know,” he said into her hair, his fingers trailing her spine again. “Your story is its own heartache too. Some days, it’s too much.”

Ren’wyn hummed softly in agreement. They were both broken in different ways, but this—what they shared—felt w hole.

Fael’s hand drifted down to her waist, his fingers brushing just beneath the edge of her nights hirt.

“Ren’wyn,” he whispered. “You are so much more than he ever let you believe. I want to climb into every broken memory and tear him out of them.”

Her eyes stung as she replied, “I’m trying to believe that... I really am. Your mother deserved better, Fael.”

“She did,” he agreed. “My father’s a bastard. It took me long enough to figure that out.”

Ren’wyn heard the simmering anger in his tone, but he sighed, releasing it. “No more about our fathers,” he added, the venom in his voice enough to stop any further quest ions.

She nodded. It didn’t matter, really. She didn’t need to know his father, and he’d never know hers. Maybe that was how it was meant t o be.

The forest was alive with the soft chirping of crickets, the soothing sound a pleasant counterpart to Fael as he rubbed her back and shoulders. She melted into him, reassured by the heat of his body. His fingers brushed light patterns on her stomach as his breath slowed, warm against her neck.

Letting her eyes flutter closed, Ren’wyn sank into calm comfort as his heartbeat thudded under her palm. His breath slowed as sleep claimed him first, and she drifted soon after, safe in his arms.