Page 71 of The Dark Mage
“L issea?” Ren’wyn asked quietly, careful not to let her words carry. “Who is that?”
Dark shadows clung to Fael and Zev’s f aces.
Esrin hissed, “She’s a damned war queen, that’s what she is, Ren’wyn.
She captures people with magic and plays with them.
I use that word loosely because what she actually does is subject them to whatever her dark heart fancies.
The emperor, at least, offers execution—a swift death.
Lissea likes to make things last. Or she turns her captives, securing their powers for her own use. ”
Zev continued as Ren’wyn’s eyes widened. “Lissea is dangerous, Ren’wyn, and those she turns are the ones who bring her new victims. She’s a despicable human being with no allegiance but to herself and her own des ires.”
Ren’wyn’s breath caught in her th roat.
“She’s in Riva? Why?” she a sked.
“My intel didn’t say,” Zev admitted, “but I suspect she visits to enjoy the lawlessness of the city. She probably has a number of profitable holdings here—pirate bands, smugglers, ban dits.”
“So what the hell do we do now?” Esrin demanded. His face had gone pale. Ren’wyn had never seen him look this distressed. “We’re the perfect target, and her informants are likely all over the city.”
Zev leaned back and drained his tumbler of whiskey. “We get out as fast as we can. We leave for Anduan at the break of day.”
“Letting our friends know was wise, Zev,” Fael remarked. “We should pack and try to stay out of sight for the eve ning.”
Esrin threw back his whiskey, while Fael stared into his mug of beer. Ren’wyn wished she had more wine. She wished she had three more gla sses.
Fael glanced at her, catching the tension in her face, and offered a small, worried smile before snagging the next passing bar maid.
“Could you bring a bottle of white?” he asked, his voice smooth as sunlight breaking through storm cl ouds.
Ren’wyn felt a ridiculous twinge of jeal ousy.
“Course, m’lord,” the barmaid stammered, clearly stri cken.
Zev smirked. “ Nice.”
Fael seemed pleased with himself, and Ren’wyn crossed her arms.
Fael met her eyes and winked. When her frown deepened, he leaned across the table, his expression lazy, smug, devastatingly char ming .
“Come now, Ren,” he murmured. “I saw you looking longingly at that empty wine glass.” A noise rumbled deep in his chest, sending a thrill down her spine. “I wish I was the white wine right about now.”
Then, he leaned back, exuding satisfaction as she sucked in a slow, audible breath. The other two were pointedly not looking at them.
Fael chuckled shamele ssly.
The barmaid returned with a bottle, and Fael thanked her without breaking his gaze from Ren’wyn. She shivered at the intensity o f it.
Zev cleared his throat, though his attention was fixed on the door.
Fael looked away then, chewing his bottom lip in thought. He passed the bottle to Ren ’wyn.
“Are you ready to head upstairs?” Fael a sked.
“Sure,” she said with a smile. “I’m going to rearrange my bags for the morning. Good night, gentl emen.”
She stood and wiggled her fingers at Fael, wanting to hold hands—to chase away the unease curling in her c hest.
“Just a minute,” he said. “I’m going to grab a couple of things before I head up. I’ll be right t here.”
He kissed the back of her hand and smiled, and she headed upst airs.
Fael didn’t ge t up.
He looked pointedly at the other two. “This is far worse than any of us let Ren’wyn know.”
They all looked gu ilty.
“Lissea is most likely already aware we’re here,” Fael continued, lowering his voice. “And we’ll be lucky to escape.” He leaned toward Esrin. “Tell me what you’re thin king.”
Esrin exhaled sharply. “Lissea is the worst thing I can imagine next to the emperor, and I will not have Ren’wyn taken.” He met Fael’s gaze, one eyebrow raised in silent chall enge.
“I wouldn’t either,” Fael asserted, spreading his hands on the t able.
Esrin shook his head. “I know. But what if we’re found? What if we’re stopped before we get to the boat? Ren’wyn is unbelievably important to all of us—to all of this. And Lissea won’t hand her over to the emperor. I’m afraid she might do w orse.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken f ears.
Then, Fael s poke.
“I know Lissea better than most,” he said caref ully.
Zev and Esrin glanced at him sha rply.
“She and I had a relation ship.”
Esrin recoiled, disgu sted.
Zev went utterly still, watc hing.
“If she finds us, she’ll know me. It’s possible she already knows I’m here,” Fael continued, dropping his head into his hands. Shame thickened his voice. “If so, I’m increasing our chances of discovery and putting us at greater risk.”
“You had a relationship with her?” Esrin asked, his disdain evident. “Fael, how ?”
“It was part of my assignment with my regiment,” Fael replied, his tone distant, as if shrugging off the poisonous memories. “I was supposed to make her an imperial ally—by whatever means necessary. She trades in sex and power, and I knew what t o do.”
He said it like a simple fact, but his voice held an edge of something da rker.
“I did it without complaint or hesitation,” he added, lifting his head. “So don’t pit y me.”
Esrin and Zev waited patiently as Fael forced himself to continue. Both men were silent, their faces marked by equal sadness and ho rror.
“If she comes for us—if she tries to stop us—I will go with her,” Fael croaked bitterly. “By whatever means necessary, you get Ren’wyn away. You get her to Anduan. You keep her safe. Do you understand me, E srin?”
Esrin nodded sole mnly.
Zev, however, looked disapproving—the first strong emotion he had shown all eve ning.
“I think she deserves to know,” he asserted. “I think she’s strong enough to know, Fael. You shouldn’t keep this from her.”
Fael chewed his bottom lip. “Maybe,” he began, looking past Zev’s shoulder. “She dese rves…”
His expression hardened, shuttering whatever vulnerability had surf aced.
“I meant what I said, Esrin. Whatever means necessary—if it comes to it—get Ren out of here. I can keep Lissea distra cted.”
“Fael, she will hate you if you abandon her,” Esrin warned, shaking his head.
“Good night,” was Fael’s only resp onse.
He stood and headed upst airs.
No one took notice of the small, swarthy man who drained his tumbler of whiskey, pulled up his hood, and slipped into the n ight.
“I thought you might have gotten lost,” Ren’wyn laughed as she rearranged her pack.
She had tucked all her essential supplies for the journey inside, sending the larger trunk—containing extra dresses, herbs, and tools—with the other baggage. It was hard to part with those things, but it didn’t make sense to travel with so much.
Fael didn’t laugh back.
She turned, frowning, and found him rubbing his fore head.
“What’s bothering you?” she a sked.
“I don’t like this, Ren’wyn,” he said, closing the distance between them. “The rush, the presence of Lissea—it’s dangerous, and I’m wor ried.”
She rose, planting a hand on her hip. “And?”
“You know me too well,” he huffed. “Sit down wit h me?”
Ren’wyn sat on the edge of the bed while Fael filled two glasses with wine. He handed one to her, sitting close so their knees tou ched.
“You might want to drink,” he said, motioning to her glass. “This is important—and diffi cult.”
She took a long sip, concern pinching her face. She didn’t press him, waiting instead for Fael to b egin.
“I know Lissea more than I let on downstairs,” he said after a moment, taking a drink of his own. “She and I were… lovers for a time.”
Ren’wyn’s breath ca ught.
Her jaw tightened as shock and jealousy rippled through her.
“I’ll explain as best I can,” he continued, his voice heavy with regret. “But first, I need you to know that I was a different man then. I’m not proud of this part of my story, and I’ll be atoning for it for the rest of my life.
“I was sent to Lissea by my—” he hesitated “—by the leader of my regiment. The empire wanted her as an ally, and because I was both powered and a trained soldier, I was deemed the perfect choice to turn her. I traveled south into her territory a lone.
“I told her the emperor wanted an alliance and that I was her gift. I showed her my magic, and she was snared.” His fingers tightened around his glass. “We slept together. She wanted my power, so I worked for her. Over time, I brought her six druids, three berserkers, and two wi ghts.
“The wights turned for her.” His voice cracked. “The other nine…”
He swallowed hard.
“I watched her torture them to death to see how their magic responded to pain.”
Ren’wyn inhaled sha rply.
Fael stared down at the deep red wine in his glass, his hands trembling. Sweat beaded along his hair line.
“I still remember each one—their names, their ages, their final scr eams.”
Ren’wyn reached out, touching his arm ge ntly.
“Take a drink, Fael,” she urged so ftly.
He obeyed, taking a deep breath before contin uing.
“I didn’t do the torturing myself, but I might as well have—I delivered them to her.” His voice was hoarse. “In the end, I gave myself to her completely, but she refused an alliance. She enjoyed her games too much. We parted on good terms, and I promised to return to entertain her.
“Ren’wyn, I was a devoted imperial soldier.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “Those weren’t the only lives I took while serving the empire. Thinking about it now makes me sick.
“I will never be free of what I’ve done, and I don’t deserve you or your love.” He exhaled shakily. “If you want a different room for the night—or if you can’t bear to stay with me—I’ll unders tand.”
By the end, his voice was strained, thick with ang uish.
Ren’wyn sipped her wine, gaze steady as Fael struggled to calm his breat hing.
“I don’t think now—and I have never thought—you were evil, Fael,” she said at last, her tone sure. “Everything I’ve known about you while we’ve been together has been honorable and just. Has any of that been a lie?”