Page 74 of The Dark Mage
“Do you want to talk about it?”he asked softly.
Her voice was a whisper, raw and filled with the pain she had carried for solong.
“I believed he would save me,” she said.“When I told Esrin my father had arranged my marriage to Erst, he promised to save me.We fell in love.He was everything to me.”Her eyes shimmered with tears.“He said he would come.But he never did—and I hated him for it.I hated him and longed for him.When my father finally sent me away, the betrayal broke me.”
She wished her voice wouldn’t waver, but Fael’s warm palms kept her from crumbling.
“And now he’s told me why he didn’t come.He was discovered by the imperial army.They murdered his father.They forced his sister into marriage.They took everything from him.”She blinked, as though trying to clear the memories.“It wasn’t his fault—but it still broke me.”
“And now?”Fael asked, his voice tight with fear andhope.
“I meant what I said in your tent, Fael,” she answered, her gaze steady and true.“You are my truth and my shield.And I am yours.”
Their lives were bound together as surely as the sun rose, as inevitably as the pull of thetide.
Fael’s grip tightened.“I meant what I said too.I’m yours—fully yours.”
Their lips met again, soft and warm.They held each other beneath the trees, and Ren’wyn knew no moment had ever compared with this as she soaked in the peace of Fael’s kiss under dappled sunlight and the scent of leaves and honeysuckle on the warm breeze.
Despite the tension with Esrin, Fael and Ren’wyn found a rhythm in thecamp.
Fael bonded with Leta—they exchanged stories of their tattoos, laughing over how thick their hair had grown.They shared fighting stances and techniques, and Fael was quick to join the other fighters during training.
Ren’wyn felt a quiet pride watching him as he led lessons in basic self-defense.He taught their new companions how to disarm an opponent, throw an effective punch, break a nose—and when torun.
She trained alongside him, calling on what she’d learned at the Academy and the skills she’d honed over the past few months.Her movements had improved, though combat would never be her strength.
One afternoon, Relya accidentally punched Fael square in the nose during a drill.His shocked expression was so comical that Ren’wyn couldn’t hold back her laughter.The sound rippled through the group, and she laughed even harder when Fael—eyes wide and nose bleeding—tried to glare but failed miserably.
She retrieved her medicine bag and returned to him, wiping hereyes.
Before she could start, Sorya pounced.
Sorya, an aspiring herbalist, had minimal training but endless enthusiasm.Ren’wyn applied a poultice to Fael’s bruised nose, explaining the herbs and their mixture ratios.Sorya recited the instructions back to her three times—her preferred method of memorization.
The camp had its own routines, and everyone took on afternoon duties.Ren’wyn offered to organize and catalog the medicinal supplies in the camp’s stores.As she rounded the tents toward the supply cart, an arm slipped around her waist and lifted her off herfeet.
Fael’s breath was hot against her ear as he swung her behind a honeysuckle shrub.
“You laughed when Relya punched me,” he said with mock severity.“Not very sweet.”
She grinned as he pressed her back against a tree.His hands slid up under her top, brushing her bareskin.
When his fingers skimmed the undersides of her breasts, all the air in the world suddenly disappeared.A familiar swirl of desire bloomed in her stomach.
“Damn these undergarments,” he groaned.
She chuckled, low and dark, against his mouth as he kissed her again—hungry, unrestrained.The bark was rough against her exposed back, Fael hard and warm along the length of her body.His hips moved, pressing insistently—but then he broke away, breathinghard.
“You should watch your tongue,” he whispered, voice husky, as he reached for the branches and held them open so she could slippast.
“You should watch your face,” she shot back, grinning over her shoulder.She gave her skirt a lazy swish and winked athim.
His answering chuckle was strained, followed by a heavy exhale.When she glanced back, his eyes were trailing her backside as she swung her favorite skirt back and forth.
After six days, Ren’wyn had opened and identified every pot, jar, and satchel of herbs in the camp.Adding her own stores, she created a detailed catalog of what they had—and what they needed.She knew how quickly illness could spread in a small camp, especially when living outdoors.They were short on fever-reducing herbs but had an excellent supply for treating coughs and stomach ailments.She also noted the absence of ingredients for easing menstrual cramps—something she was sure the women in camp would appreciate.
Some of the herbs had been stored incorrectly, their seals broken.Ren’wyn had to discard several spoiled batches.The hardest was an expensive bottle of feverfew that had changed color—a sure sign it was no longer effective.She poured the contents out and took the empty bottles to the river, scrubbing them clean with scouring rush she’d found along the banks.
