Page 55 of The Dark Mage

Ren’wyn gestured for Fael to sit beside her.

Leaning her head on his shoulder, she sighed as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Warmth flared in her belly as she snuggled against him.

Zev’s eyes flicked to their physical closeness and Esrin’s casual ignorance.

No wonder Zev was the group’s spy—he noticed everything and assessed it all in sil ence.

Zev’s magic tugged at her, urging her to reach out with the Void. Fael’s stiffened body and slow breathing told her he felt it too. Zev’s blank aura was a yawning chasm, consuming the energy around him. Ren’wyn suppressed a sh iver.

Leta’s husky voice rang out, her vowels smooth and soft. “We have new members, Zev. Tell them the s tory!”

A cheer rose from the group, several lifting mugs of beer or wine in agreement.

Zev hesitated briefly, his pause registering as only a flicker in the emptiness that wove around him.

Esrin smiled encouragingly, and Ren’wyn wondered how he had adapted to the constant pull of Zev’s power.

Zev’s dark eyes grew thoughtful as he brushed a wayward lock of black hair from his fore head.

“I was born in Kareht to a wight, Sabia, and her lover, Abden,” Zev began, his voice soft and rolling, rich with an accent that felt like an exotic spice Ren’wyn couldn’t quite place.

“She had escaped from her father using her abilities and joined a brothel.

Abden found her there, and she felt the call of his spirit within her power.

He paid for her release, and though he was married, he set her up in an apartment in Tel Toren and visited whenever he c ould.

“I was born to them four years later. Abden was elated and used his vast wealth to provide for my mother and me. He visited frequently, and I never wanted for anything. My power became evident shortly after I was born, and my mother became my strict and exacting tea cher.

“When I was ten, Abden was arrested as part of a group of rebels. He was stripped of his fortune and executed. The imperials never discovered me or my mother. She mourned him deeply, wearing nothing but black until her d eath.”

Ren’wyn found herself captivated by his cadence—wild, rhythmic, and detached, as though he were narrating someone else’s s tory.

“My mother passed when I was sixteen,” Zev continued.

“A fever overtook her, ravaging her quickly and thoroughly.

By then, I had surpassed her expectations in both power and skill.

Her death, combined with the lifestyle we had lived, left me in financial distress.

To maintain the comfort I was accustomed to, I turned to stealing and selling secrets. It worked well for over twenty y ears.

“But one particular client didn’t take kindly to the information I sold him.

He betrayed me to the imperial guard. They arrested me, whipped me, and prepared to transport me to the Capital for execution.

They bound me with chains designed to dampen my abilities, ensuring I couldn’t disappear.

The guards who captured me knew I had no chance of es cape.

“As we traveled the Eastern Trade Route toward the Capital, I realized my life was over. I had left nothing behind—nothing to better the world. I begged the gods for a second chance, promising I would use it to do good for those with p ower.

“On the edge of the desert, our caravan stopped for the night, and a fierce wind began to rise. Not unusual for the region, but it wasn’t the season for sandstorms. While it didn’t register for the soldiers, I felt a shift in my m agic.

“The wind grew, lifting sand into the air as though it weighed nothing. Grains blasted us painfully, moving under the soldiers’ feet like waves on the sea. They fell as the sand burned their skin and tore their clothing, the wind howling into a screaming fury.

“In the heart of the storm, I felt him—then saw him.” Zev’s eyes softened with a rare flash of emotion as he looked at Esrin.

“His magic was a storm of wind and earth, commanding the sand as though it was alive, obliterating the imperial guard.

When he noticed me, he wrapped me in a cocoon of stillness, having sensed my p ower.

“He stripped the soldiers to their bones while shielding me. His eyes burned like living jewels within the dark haze of sand that sang and moved at his command. When he finished, he stilled the storm with a single gesture. The cart I’d sheltered behind was shattered, but Esrin had spare d me.

“I had minor burns from the sand, and Esrin’s first words to me were an apology.

He had saved me, and he apologized.” Zev shook his head slowly, the smallest trace of wonder in his expression.

“I joined him without hesitation, embracing the second chance I had begged for. Ever since, I’ve sought justice for ot hers. ”

Miguel cheered, and the group raised their glasses in salute.

Ren’wyn lifted her own—one of Esrin’s favorite hoppy beers, passed to her by Leta—and took a sip.

Zev acknowledged her gesture with a polite nod before folding his long, graceful limbs to sit beside Esrin.

Ren’wyn stifled a giggle as he fidgeted slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the informality of the posi tion.

Fael’s hand rested sweetly on her hip, his fingers brushing lightly against her outer thigh. The warmth of his body provided a comforting counterpoint to the crackling fire.

This strange assortment of people had all found purpose, second chances, or redemption here.

Esrin had created that for them. Ren’wyn felt herself beginning to belong, and she loved Esrin for what he had done.

He might be arrogant and pompous, brushing off any notion of vulnerability, but he was a good man, and this group was proof o f it.

Sorya brought out her fiddle, and Relya joined with a small whistle, the lively music weaving through the night as the group drank and shared stories of adventure, happiness, and sorrow.

Nestled in Fael’s arms as the evening grew cooler, with a gentle breeze tickling their skin, Ren’wyn closed her eyes in contentment.

The music, the conversation, and the laughter surrounded her like a warm cocoon—a world she had never imagined herself inhabi ting.

As her fatigue deepened, she leaned more heavily against Fael’s side.

“Come on,” he whispered in her ear, his voice warm and slow. “You’re tired. Let’s go to bed.”

She looked up into his eyes, which danced beautifully in the firelight.

Fael stood, steadying her as she rose. Wilenrut whistled teasingly when her chest brushed against Fael’s, and she blushed a shade surely visible in the glow of the flames.

Wilenrut cast a quick glance at Esrin, slightly embarrassed, but Esrin didn’t look up from the fire.

Keeping her hand in Fael’s, Ren’wyn followed him out of the firel ight.

At the tent, Fael pulled back the flap with a playful smirk. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m not going to bed you ton ight.”

She turned sharply, her face flushing red again. Fael stepped closer, the heat of his body washing over her, making her question his w ords.

“You aren’t going to sleep in your clothes, are you?” he murmured, his gaze heavy with promise. The way he looked at her—like he could already see every inch of her—left her breathless. He touched her shoulders, his fingers gliding down her arms before settling on her hips. “Do you need some help?”

She nodded before she could second-guess her self.

Fael’s hands moved to the laces of her bodice, untying them with careful ease, pulling them loose. He slid the dress down her arms and over her hips in a fluid motion, letting it pool at her feet. Clad in only her boned bodice and undergarments, his gaze lingered, a phantom weight on her skin.

“Turn around,” he whisp ered.

She ob eyed.

His hands moved like a prayer across her back, loosening the ties of her bodice, peeling away the last barriers between them.

The cool air of the tent brushed her skin, and she shivered—until Fael pressed himself against her back, his arms wrapping firmly around her waist, trailing upward across her c hest.

“Let’s get you in bed,” he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.

Ren’wyn snatched her nightgown from the small stand, stepping out of his embrace to slip it on. Behind her, Fael made a low sound of appreciation as he watched. When she turned, his voice was elec tric.

“I feel like I should remind you how unbelievable you are,” he said huskily. “So gorgeous, Ren’wyn. Every inch of you is luscious and soft and beaut iful.”

She didn’t know how to respond, so she simply smiled and lowered her lashes in silent gratitude.

Fael cupped her chin, tilting her face up as his lips claimed hers in an unrelenting kiss.

With exquisite care, he lifted her into his arms, his hands firm under her shoulders and knees, and laid her down on his bed roll.

He pulled off his shirt and pants, sprawling beside her.

“Sleep well, Ren’wyn,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to her eyelids and forehead, rubbing slow circles on her back until she drifted into the embrace of s leep.