Page 57 of The Dark Mage
She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak.How could she convey that she felt the same for him in everyway?
“Rest now,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear, so gently she could shatter into a thousand pieces.“Rest here, where you’resafe.”
He pulled her into his arms, leaning back on the bed and tucking her legs up next to him.Covering them with a blanket, he left the fire burning to chase away the shadows of the morning.Ren’wyn tucked her head under his chin, smelling stone and smoke, and despite yearning for more, she fell fast asleep.
16
Fael began teaching Ren’wyn how to control her panic the next morning.They left town and traveled into the countryside, where a dark wall of forest loomed on the horizon.When they reached a secluded section of road, they wandered over a hill, the sun bright but not toohot.
Cushioned by the cool, soft grass, Fael showed Ren’wyn a breathing technique to use during panic attacks.There was no room for embarrassment—he explained how battle-hardened soldiers used the same method and how he’d trained fighters coping with trauma, anxiety, and nightmares.She absorbed his instructions, learning to ground herself by pressing her feet into the earth to feel anchored.Afterward, he reviewed the self-defense techniques she’d learned at Spyre, helping her brush up on skills involving her hands, feet, and a small dagger.They practiced six maneuvers as he pretended to attack from all directions.
Five more nights passed outdoors as they traveled and trained, practicing grounding and combat together twice a day.Ren’wyn couldn’t let Fael out of her sight without panicking, though each day it grew a little easier.Fael challenged her by making her stay at camp while he went to fetch water or firewood, asking her to practice grounding and breathing.The first few times, she was shaking and drenched in sweat when he returned, but he held her hands as they breathed and calmed down together.
At night, Fael held her close.He never repeated his words from the inn, but they lingered between them like lightning waiting to strike.His gentle touch never demanded more than simple comfort, and Ren’wyn’s fear melted like ice beneath the warmth of Fael’s presence and her own flourishing inner strength.She longed to thank him, but her emotions tumbled together in her heart and head.She was afraid to burden him with feelings he might not share, so she stayed silent, savoring his embrace at night and his closeness byday.
At the end of the week, they entered a new world, stepping into the outskirts of a vast, unbroken forest.The strange, unfamiliar plants made Ren’wyn feel out of her depth—she hadn’t done any foraging since the attack.
Ren’wyn stopped at the edge of a hill where the canopy broke, revealing Amoya spread out below.It was larger than she’d expected, sprawling between rocky cliffs.They would need to follow a long, switchback road to reach the valley, but from here, Ren’wyn marveled at the view.She’d never seen a city of this size, and she swallowed a nervous giggle.
The money they’d carefully saved was enough for a longer stay at a nice inn.Ren’wyn wanted a bath with hot water.She almost groaned at the thought of soaking, though she secretly enjoyed their dips in streams and ponds.Fael’s tan skin always shone through the brush nearby, never far enough that she couldn’t call out if she neededhim.
“Ready?”Fael asked as they reached the citygate.
It wasn’t a question of whether she could do this—it was confirmation.Fael trusted her more than she trusted herself, and she worked to see herself through his eyes.She smiled in response, straightened her hair and back, and stood taller, rising to the image of the aspiring lady she’d once imagined becoming in the Territories.His smile spread in return, and her cheeks flushed.
Was he flirting with her?She slipped her arm through his companionably, and he placed his hand over hers, sending a prickle across her skin.The day was growing hot, and Ren’wyn forced herself to focus on the thought of a bath and good food to distract from the shiver running down her spine.
They rounded the first block, and a cozy-looking inn appeared ahead.
Red brick steps led to a wooden building flanked by magenta bougainvillea bushes.The front door was painted a cheery shade of blue.Fael pushed it open, his arm still linked with Ren’wyn’s.The clean entry smelled of lemon and sage.Sunlight streamed in through clear windows.A staircase led up to the guest rooms, and beneath the stairs—
Thank whatever goodness there was in the world—beneath the stairs was a dining room.The rich smell of bread and something savory cooking made Ren’wyn’s stomach growl loud enough for Fael and the innkeeper tohear.
Fael introduced them as Mari and Axel, siblings traveling to Riva in search of opportunity and fortune.He wore his swords openly, pairing them with tight pants crossed with leather bindings and a sleeveless embroidered black shirt and red vest.Luremala wasn’t shy about bloodshed, so he could easily pass as a mercenary.Ren’wyn introduced herself as an herbalist—a well-respected trade in the south.
The large inn stood near the edge of the city, catering to travelers.They took two rooms on the upper level, where the bougainvillea brushed against Ren’wyn’s window.Twenty minutes later, when the bath arrived, she relished every moment scrubbing and rinsing before climbing out and braiding herhair.
Her new Luremalan dresses weren’t dresses at all but sets of flowing pants resembling skirts, paired with matching halter tops: flexible, with the modesty of a skirt and the freedom of pants.The maids delivered her clothing while she bathed—two serviceable sets in olive and tan, and one in a shade of aqua that made her gray eyes brighter and her light skin shimmer.She pulled on the aqua set, tucked pink bougainvillea into her braid, and left her dirty clothes for the staff to clean.
At the bottom of the stairs, Fael waited—free in a new way.His sword hung comfortably at his side, and he walked with the confidence of a man in his element.His hazel eyes glittered as they swept over her, and when she reached him, she broke eye contact.
Something was changing.Something had been changing for a long time.Ren’wyn wanted him, but she didn’t know how to begin.Had they already begun?They’d been companions for so long—friends and partners.He’d been different from the moment he grabbed her on the river’s edge months ago, when their powers mixed and he aided her rather than abandonedher.
At the table, bowls held sliced passion fruit, guava, and mango.Chicken and flatbread came on white plates, and Fael poured her a glass of water before serving himself.She glanced up from beneath her lashes and smiled, unable to contain the urge to playcoy.
“Tell me about your favorite plant,” Fael said, breaking the silence.
She paused before answering.“Once during school, my friends and I traveled to a lake for a vacation.We spent our days along the shore, gathering white stones.My friend Esrin used druid magic to carve them: a little flame for Peria, who was always arguing and pushing others toward justice.Apparently, she was also quite fiery inbed.”
Fael chuckled.
“For himself, Esrin carved a beech leaf.He loved the wind and the forest.If he could have, he’d have lived beneath the trees, playing an eternal breeze through their leaves.
“For me, he carved the flowers I found growing behind the first rise of sand.While he and Peria watched water birds and argued politics, I noticed the tiny blossoms sprouting in the damp earth.My favorite was a small purple lobelia, its delicate flowers spiraling up thestem.”
Fael’s head tilted, and something almost possessive flickered across his face.The memory ached deep down, but a quiet contentment dulled the lingering sadness.It was no longer a struggle to silence the old pain—just a scar from a time now past.Perhaps she could finally share that part of herself with Fael, the last secret she still carried.
“Maybe it was the serenity of that place—the quiet and peace under the cloudy skies—but that tiny lobelia in its untouched haven stole my heart.Until…” She hesitated, sipping her water as Fael waited.
