Page 48 of The Dark Mage

The leather of his greaves creaked as he flexed his forearms, winding his fingers into her hair. A gentle tug tilted her head back, and her lips parted in breathless anticipa tion.

“Until you’re back in my arms,” he murm ured.

The kiss they shared was a passionate promise, filled with the ache of impending separation. His lips and tongue moved roughly against hers, his desperation leaving her gasping when he pulled away.

Fael swung into the saddle with practiced ease, fluid and confi dent.

He didn’t look back as he urged the horse forward, disappearing into the trees. Ren’wyn watched until he was out of sight, her chest tightening painfully. The dread coiled deeper in her stomach. These days were going to feel end less.

The next morning, Ren’wyn assumed her role as Orna, a well-bred, newly married lady.

Esrin became Pol, while Irik retained his name as their loyal guard, riding horseback alongside the cart.

Their cover story was that they were traveling to Berua to reunite with Pol’s large, affluent family—the Bolivars, prominent members of Berua’s oligarchy.

Ren’wyn’s elegant amethyst dress added authenticity to the guise, and Esrin’s status as a noble allied with a Territorian would be easily unders tood.

The three-day journey through the summer heat of Luremala was largely uneventful.

They passed through stretches of humid, tropical forest interspersed with expansive grasslands.

One afternoon, a fierce thunderstorm forced them to take shelter beneath a lean-to fashioned against the wagon.

Huddled together, they listened to the storm rage as Esrin worked his magic to create a shield of solid air around their refuge.

His promise to “gladly drench them for appearance’s sake” if questioned earned Ren’wyn’s and Irik’s laug hter.

Ren’wyn appreciated the opportunity to grow closer to Irik.

Initially, his guarded demeanor made him difficult to approach—perhaps due to his loyalty to Esrin.

She couldn’t blame him; befriending the woman your friend had risked everything to save, only to find she’d fallen in love with someone else, must have been awkward.

Despite his initial hesitation, their conversations lightened over the journey, and her occasional witty remarks were rewarded with Irik’s gruff appr oval.

Whenever they passed other travelers, Esrin wrapped an arm around Ren’wyn, holding the reins in his free hand. She leaned her head against his shoulder, the picture of devo tion.

On the third afternoon, they encountered an imperial regiment traveling in the opposite direction. Ren’wyn’s heart fluttered as the captain ordered them to halt. His sharp eyes scanned Ren’wyn’s fine dress and tidy appearance, Esrin’s commanding posture, and Irik’s professional deme anor.

“Names, business, and destination,” he barked, his hand resting on the hilt of his s word.

“Pol and Orna Bolivar,” Esrin replied smoothly, his flawless Luremalan accent honeyed and precise. “This is our guard, Irik. We were married recently in Somerset, in the presence of Orna’s family. Now, we’re headed to Lipo to join mine.”

The captain nodded in approval. “Bolivar, eh? Travels smooth so far?”

“Excellent, thank you,” Esrin replied politely. “We encountered a thunderstorm yesterday, but Irik is skilled with a lean-to. We managed well en ough.”

“This country’s as wild as they come,” Irik muttered, earning a laugh from the cap tain.

“Indeed, it is,” the captain agreed. “You should come to the Capital once your business in Berua is done. Good pay, comfortable lodgings—none of this wilderness to deal with.”

“Sounds like an idea worth considering,” Irik rep lied.

“Safe travels,” the captain said, waving them onward. “I’m sure you’re eager for some privacy in Berua, Pol.”

Esrin’s smile turned sly as his hand brushed through Ren’wyn’s hair. “We’re hoping for a child within a year,” he said, twitching the reins as the captain and his men laughed behind them.

Leta met them in Lipo on the fourth day. She and Irik took the cart and supplies, leaving Ren’wyn to ride in front of Esrin on the spare horse. He adjusted her carefully between his thighs as they rode out of town, his hand resting respectfully on her w aist.

Despite his gentlemanly demeanor, discomfort tightened Ren’wyn’s chest. The day was warm and bright, and the pulse of his magic resonated with the living world as he breathed steadily behind her.

They traveled in silence for half an hour, following directions Leta had given Esrin. He seemed to have the route memorized, navigating without hesita tion.

“Did you sell my ring?” Esrin asked sudd enly.

Ren’wyn stiffened, the question stinging like an in sult.

“My father ripped it from my hand after threatening to murder Bier,” she replied icily.

“He threw it into the mucky pond behind the manor to ensure I couldn’t retrieve it.

I spent hours staring at that pond over the following weeks, thinking perhaps I would dive in and let myself drown if I couldn’t fin d it. ”

Esrin sucked in a harsh breath, clearly shaken. “Gods, I’m sorry. I’m an ass.”

“Yes, you are,” Ren’wyn retorted coldly. “And I’m a slut who spread her legs for the first person to show me kindness after you.”

“Oh, gods, Ren’wyn,” Esrin groaned, shifting in the saddle as he rubbed his forehead. “I’m definitely an ass.”

She relaxed her posture slightly but kept her voice steady.

“Fael helped me fight back when I escaped Erst’s estate.

He saw my bravery when I couldn’t, encouraged me to find my own strength.

We didn’t start a romantic relationship until we reached Amoya—not that it’s any of your business. I mourned you for a long, long time.”

Esrin was quiet for a stretch as the crickets chirped and birds sang in the grasses lining the road.

“I want you to know,” Ren’wyn said after a moment, “I truly and honestly loved you.

It was never a trick or a ploy. I thought you regretted offering for me when you returned to Ishvaen.

I figured you were relieved when Bier came back without me.

I waited and watched, a little more of me drifting deeper into darkness each day.

“My mother died, and my father sent me to Erst. He hurt me, promised to rape me. When my sadness and fear reached the very bottom of my soul, I snapped. The anger I felt—at you, at Erst, at my father—fueled my escape. I never felt anything but worthless and small. Now, I’m starting to build a stronger version of my self. ”

Esrin’s breathing was uneven. “I’m sorry about your mother,” he said qui etly.

“Me too,” she replied. “But I’ve come to understand she wasn’t perfect, even though I loved her de arly.”

The silence between them returned, thick but no longer oppressive. The sun heated Ren’wyn’s neck, and she adjusted her cloak to shield her skin, wishing she could get to her aspen bark powder for sunsc reen.

“I never changed my mind,” Esrin eventually said, his voice and presence slightly closer. “I never changed my mind. I ached for you every single day, wishing I could save you but knowing I had nothing to o ffer.”

“You offered a home to the rest of your group,” she challe nged.

His voice was pained. “I did, yes. But I underestimated your stre ngth.”

“So did I,” she m used.

The rest of the ride passed more companionably. They entered the forest, the shade a blissful relief after the heat of the open road.

At the camp, Esrin dismounted before placing his hands on Ren’wyn’s waist to help her down. They were suddenly too close for comfort, their breath mingling for a tense mo ment.

Ren’wyn stepped aside, breaking the spell. Turning back to him, she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears, “I never meant to hurt you. I would never want to hurt you. You are my dear fr iend.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. Intent on setting up her tent, she headed toward Leta.

They were the first group to arrive at the camp, though Miguel had met Leta earlier and helped choose a spot. Avonlee, Wilenrut, and Relya’s group joined them by eve ning.

“Looks like a good spot, Leta,” Miguel te ased.

Ren’wyn knew he had helped her pick the location, set up the preliminary perimeter, and clear the ground before heading out for the first watch. Leta rolled her eyes but chuc kled.

“I have excellent taste,” she replied lig htly.

Relya and Avonlee immediately set to airing out and arranging tents, while Wilenrut and Ren’wyn collected and organized the weapons. Ren’wyn took a moment to unpack her belongings in the tent she shared with Fael, smoothing her cloak over the cot and clearing a spot for his bag in the co rner.

When two days passed without word of Sorya’s group or Fael, concern began to spread.

Leta rode to Lipo daily, searching the town and surrounding farmlands, hoping to come across them on one of the roads.

Each evening, she returned with exhaustion etched into her face, and the camp grew quieter with every passing hour.

Ren’wyn struggled to sleep. Nightmares haunted her—visions of Fael lying lifeless on the roadside.

She often woke in the suffocating dark, her mind conjuring his pale corpse.

Her chest tightened, nausea surged, and her breaths grew shallow and ragged.

But there was no Fael to reassure or ground her.

Trying to breathe, she swung her feet to the floor, gripping the cot’s edges, desperate to steady herself. She inhaled in gasps, tears leaking past her eyelids as panic overwhelmed her.

A faint flicker of light appeared at the tent door. For a moment, she believed it was Fael. She cried out, only for Avonlee’s soft voice to pierce the dark ness.

“I struggle with panic attacks too,” Avonlee whispered. “Keep breathing, Ren ’wyn.”

How had she heard her? Had her magic spilled out ward?

“Feel the ground beneath you,” Avonlee urged gently. “You are here, and you are free. We will face the future with the mor ning.”