Page 70 of The Dark Mage
His skin was bronze from their travels in the sun, his brown hair curling in soft waves. The matching facial hair was neatly trimmed, and she liked that he had grown it out.
The strong planes of his face, the masculine angles of his features—Ren’wyn loved every inch. She traced his thick, dark brows, strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and angular nose. But it was his eyes that arrested her.
That hazel color—warm brown mixed with notes of honey and emerald—told her everything she wanted to know. On the dance floor, they sparked with fiery orange near his pupils, and her core tight ened.
“I know what that look means,” he said devilishly as the music sl owed.
Fael pulled her against him, one hand on her hip as they swayed to a softer tune.
A girl sang in a clear soprano, her voice carrying a song of two lovers—both sad and beautiful. Ren’wyn sighed and laid her head on his c hest.
And when her heart, fair broken deep
Laid claim to her and beckoned s leep
He found her there within the Veil
Their hearts entwined in death and dark
And though their love burned bright at last
Their graves did lay both still and s tark
Tears burned Ren’wyn’s eyes as the song e nded.
“Take me to bed?” she whispered to Fael.
In their room, he held her in his arms, kissing her slowly as the breeze blew through the open wi ndow.
“What’s going to happen to us, Fael?” she a sked.
He was silent for a long time.
“I don’t know,” he finally responded. “But I love you today, right here and now, and I’m trying to make that enough. It’s hard not to agonize about the future—the dreams and hopes and plans. It’s hard not to want more and more. But I’m working to focus on this moment, with you.”
Then, he danced with her again beneath the sheets, summoning frost and fire before they drifted off to the wind sighing through the trees and the last of autumn’s crickets singing of p eace.
On the day they entered Riva, Fael checked over their belongings, making sure they had money for taxes. He looked concerned and determined, and he urged her to strap a dagger to her hip over her black leggings as well as braid her hair off her neck for the eventual humi dity.
Fael, too, wore black leggings and a white, loose shirt. He strapped on three swords and tied on his leather arm gre aves.
He was a sight to behold, and Ren’wyn watched him in a way that made Fael chu ckle.
“Later, my dear,” he laughed, pressing a kiss to her pink ch eeks.
“You have to promise to wear the gauntlets,” Ren’wyn said, grabbing his shirt. His hands ran lazily over her back side.
“Promise,” he grinned, and they headed out to face the day.
The road was barely visible through the heavy fog. Fael had shown her the map of their final path before they left, so she had an idea of the distance they would travel. Maps had never been her favorite subject, though. She was glad Fael liked them.
“Are you looking forward to Anduan?” he a sked.
The road had become paved with bricks, bustling with people heading to Riva. The familiar scent of Fael and Patina comforted her in the crowd, and Fael’s large hand rested heavily on her hip.
“I am,” she admitted. “I’m hoping to see Peria and looking forward to another adventure. I’ve never sailed, though, and the thought of the sea makes me ner vous.”
A little shiver coursed down her spine. All ships ever made her think of was a watery g rave.
“Sailing isn’t so bad,” Fael offered. “It’s not my favorite way to travel, but the sea is beautiful and wild. Maybe we’ll see whales or dolphins from the boat.”
That was a better picture than drowning, and she latched ont o it.
“I imagine Zev and Esrin will be adept at sailing. Wights have a strange predilection for the water, and Esrin is from Ishvaen, which is known for its shipbuilding,” Fael expla ined.
“And Ren’wyn will vomit her guts up over the railing,” she mutt ered.
Fael chuc kled.
“I’ll be there to hold your hair back and wipe your brow,” he said, squeezing her hip.
The sun finally burned away the fog, and a distant glint caught Ren’wyn’s eye—the Serath Sea. It was a tiny sliver far, far away, but she had never seen the ocean be fore.
“Fael,” she squealed. “The sea!”
She squirmed in excitement, and Fael bit back a tight, rough l augh.
“Don’t do that,” he rasped, breath hot against her ear.
Ren’wyn grinned and squirmed a gain.
Fael grabbed her hip with rough sensuality. “Ren’wyn,” he groaned, “too many people can see.”
His strained tone made her laugh, and she leaned back against his solid chest, staring in wonder at the distant silver gli mmer.
They reached the city wall half an hour later, stone and mortar stretching forty feet high.
Ren’wyn stared in amazement as Fael paid two burly men a small fee to enter.
Both had large brands on their necks in the shape of a seven-pointed star, and anyone entering the gate received that same symbol inked onto the back of their hand.
Fael took a moment to pull half his hair back into a leather strap, clearing his periphery as he scanned the streets for da nger.
His description of the city had been accurate. Inside the walls, the houses were small and cramped, with stunted flowers struggling to grow in patchy window boxes. A rush of foul stench hit her, and Ren’wyn wrinkled her nose.
Fael passed Patina off to a stable boy, then curved his arm possessively around her as he led them through the grimy str eets.
The following similar, smaller stone walls divided the territories of the criminal families from one another. Fael kept her close, his physical proximity calming the agitation bubbling low within him—evidenced by the sharp glimmer in his hazel eyes through the haze.
Walking confidently with a half smirk, Fael looked every bit the rogue Riva demanded. His tight black leggings hugged the defined muscles of his legs, and the deeply cut neckline of his shirt revealed the strong lines of his c hest.
Ren’wyn was glad her hair was off her neck now. It kept her from complete misery in the humidity. As it was, she was sweating, beads rolling down her spine and fore head.
By the time they reached the last district, Ren’wyn thought she might never smell fresh air again—the scent of fish soured the atmosphere. Her hand bore five distinct ink markings after five taxes, and she rolled her shoulders to ease the pent-up anxiety from the checkpo ints.
“Thanks,” Ren’wyn whispered, and Fael raised an eye brow.
“For taking me through the city,” she clarified. “I appreciate that I could do it with you.”
He smiled swe etly.
What Ren’wyn didn’t mention was the guttering sensation in her power, simmering low in her stomach.
It wasn’t from anything she could pinpoint—it was like a clinging humidity on her magic itself.
She kept breathing, letting it settle rather than fighting back.
She’d bring it up once they were somewhere safer. Perhaps at the inn.
They rounded a corner, and Ren’wyn finally glimpsed the bay down a long, hilly road. She halted, frozen, staring at the water covered like a porcupine with masts for quills. Boats sailed through the mouth of the bay, and the humid, hazy air shimmered in the afternoon suns hine.
“It’s darker than I thought,” she breathed as Fael leaned against a lamppost, taking in the view. “The water, I mean. I always pictured teal blue.”
“The sewage and dead fish don’t help,” Fael said with a shrug. “Some places are teal in the shallows, but the Rivan Bay is never anything but murky b rown.”
Ren’wyn wrinkled her nose at the image forming in her mind—dead fish and sewage swirled and pushed by b oats.
They took two more turns into a wide, clean street. Though hazy, Ren’wyn spotted the sign for the Skipper hanging a few hundred feet a head.
Inside, the inn smelled of lemon soap and furniture polish.
The sharp, clean scent was a welcome relief from the fishy, wet smell outside, and Ren’wyn took a long, deep breath.
Ceiling fans drifted lazily above them, moving the air, powered by tidal generators outside the bay—just as Fael had explained.
The gentle breeze cooled her sweaty neck and shoul ders.
“Ren’wyn,” came Esrin’s smiling voice behind her.
Esrin and Zev stood just beyond the dining area. Both had water, and Zev was eating a strange tropical f ruit.
Fael was still paying the innkeeper, so Ren’wyn crossed the room with a broad smile. She grabbed Zev around the middle, hugging him tight and laughing as he jumped, clearly uncomfortable with the con tact.
His broad hand patted her awkwardly. “Hello, little mage,” he chuckled, his voice affectio nate.
She broke the hug and swept Esrin into her arms. He stiffened, pushing her away with an odd s mile.
“Ren,” he greeted, nodding before offering another to Fael across the room.
Fael shook their hands before taking Ren’wyn’s. “I paid for you to use the bathing room,” he told her with a proud smile, handing her the key. “I’m going to have something to drink and wander the streets to reacquaint myself with the dist rict.”
Ren’wyn flew up the stairs, rushing to the tiny bathing chamber in the hall. She enjoyed a long shower, washing her hair twice. The water was perfect—cool but not cold—and her pink Luremalan outfit felt breezy and fresh as she headed back downst airs.
She tossed the key to Fael in the dining area, making a ridiculous face as she pretended to sniff him.
Zev’s mouth twitched. Fael rolled his eyes, patting her backside as he pa ssed.
She sat with Zev, recounting their travels as Fael wandered upstairs.
Esrin returned soon after, and Zev left to connect with some friends in the city.
Spies , Ren’wyn understood. Zev would be speaking to people he had worked with before, exchanging information for their secrets.
It was a dangerous game, but one Zev played with skill.
He had told her previously that he always made slight but noticeable changes to his appearance to prevent cap ture.
Esrin told her how Lia, Ohn, and Avonlee had settled into their new home. He was so clearly proud of them, his voice warm and affectio nate.
“That boy is going to be spoiled,” Esrin said, laug hing.
Ren’wyn warmed at the thought of their small family’s happi ness.
“I hope so,” she said. “I hope they all are, surrounded by each other’s love.”
Fael rejoined them, and the three of them drank and ate supper in the cozy dining hall. They chatted and relaxed until Zev returned an hour l ater.
His anxious energy slid over them, a pulse of his hollow aura making Ren’wyn sh iver.
What had he lea rned?
Zev downed a glass of w ater.
“There is news from one of my friends,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “I’ve made some adjustments and sent our friends back to Lia and Avonlee. We’re leaving before the sun rises, along with the first group of fishing b oats.”
They all te nsed.
These were significant changes made without discussion, which could only mean something serious had happ ened.
Ren’wyn looked curiously at the men, whose expressions grew horrified as Zev fini shed.
“Lissea is in Riva.”