“Why?” he asked, but there was something in his eyes. A pleading that said, show me why I’m worthy.
Marai nearly scoffed out loud. How can he not see?
“Because you’re good, Ruenen. You care.” Marai swallowed as emotion took over. “You have passion and humility. More rulers on this continent should have your genuine kindness. You see people as they could be. In every soul, you see potential.”
He blinked and bit his lower lip, letting her words sink in. “What if we lose? What if I make terrible decisions and thousands of innocent people die as a result?”
“They’ll die without you. Nevandia shrivels away, and one day, Rayghast will butcher them all. Do you want to see Nevandians at the mercy of Rayghast? He’ll torture them, starve them, treat them worse than his own people.” She stepped closer to Ruenen, closing all space between them. “Think of those who sacrificed their lives to make sure you lived, so that you could become king. The monks and Chongan. Ruen, their deaths mean nothing if you waste the gift they gave you.”
Ruenen stood motionless, lost in thought, eyes shimmering. When he spoke, his voice was so soft; a downy feather stroking her cheek. “I don’t know how to do this, Marai.”
“You’ll have a knowledgeable council, people who know the country and the situation well. They’ll guide you, stand firm beside you.” She rested a gentle hand on his arm, and felt the corded muscles beneath his sleeve. “And so will I.”
His eyes widened for a split second, then narrowed to cynical slits. “You’re not going to run away from me again?”
Marai shook her head. It pained her to hear the tightness return to his voice. “No. I’ll stay with you, for as long as you will have me.”
Ruenen raked a hand through his hair again, but then his eyes snapped open as he grasped her hand. “What in the Unholy Underworld happened to your fingers?”
Marai hastily yanked her hand from his and shoved both in her pockets, cursing herself. She’d forgotten. “It’s nothing.”
Ruenen stared at her blankly.
She sighed, remembering how unwise it was to withhold information from those she cared about. “The magic, the day I left you . . . I took it from something else.”
“What do you mean?”
She avoided his scrutinizing gaze. “I took from magic that doesn’t belong to me. In my panic, I pulled magic from a dark place. A place I shouldn’t have, and it left a mark.”
“Lirr’s bones, Marai, it looks like Rayghast’s—”
“Arms? Yes. He has magic, too.”
Ruenen’s jaw dropped as if she’d slapped him. She’d withheld that particular fact from Ruenen after they’d escaped the dungeons. She hadn’t wanted him to worry. Marai had always been good at keeping secrets. I’m no better than Keshel.
“When we were in the dungeon and Rayghast touched me, I could feel his magic writhing beneath the surface of his skin. But his human body shouldn’t have that kind of magic inside. Dark magic is corrupting the drop of fae blood in his veins.”
“Rayghast has faerie blood?” Ruenen took a step back, the realization hitting him. “But he . . . he hates magical folk!”
“It was probably many generations back. I think the percentage of faerie blood in him is miniscule, which is why the magic is too strong for the vessel, and Rayghast doesn’t have the ability to use it properly. He’s entirely human, otherwise, thus why he’s been calling upon dark magic to help him.”
Ruenen let out a long, amazed breath. “Dark magic . . . I’ve never heard of that before.”
“No one is supposed to touch dark magic. It taints you. That’s why Rayghast’s arms are blackened, and it will continue to consume him as long as he pulls from it.”
Ruenen looked sharply at Marai. “So you’re permanently marked this way?”
“Magic isn’t free, and every magical creature has its limits. It was a mistake I won’t make again, especially now that I can control my powers better.”
Ruenen glanced down to where her hands remained in her pockets.
“I’ll put on my gloves if it bothers you.”
His face tightened, eyes flecked with fear. “You resorted to pulling magic from somewhere else just to get away from me.”
Marai’s heart lurched. Her face softened. “Not from you, Ruenen. Never from you.”
Ruenen studied her for a moment, pinning her in place, until he bit his lower lip again, and Marai had to turn away. She placed her focus on a mouse scurrying across the forest floor.
“It’s getting dark. We should camp here for the night,” Ruenen finally said.
They went to work clearing the ground and gathering firewood, as they had so many times before. Ruenen watched her intently as she used magic to light the fire again, but this time, concern was etched into every plane of his face. He glared at her blackened fingertips, and Marai knew he blamed himself.
“Please, think about taking up the throne, Ruen,” she said to him across the fire. “I meant what I said. You’d be a great king.”
Ruenen’s mouth twisted. Flames danced in his eyes. “Go to sleep, Marai.” He lay down in his blankets amongst the leaves, cushiony moss, and grass, turning his back to her.
The atmosphere around their campsite wasn’t hostility . . . instead, Marai felt the gentle pulse of Ruenen’s fear. Fear of becoming king. But more than that, fear for her.
He may not have forgiven her yet. That might take days or weeks, but Marai was resolute to continue trying to earn his forgiveness. She’d given up on him once, and she’d never do it again.
Ruenen was alive, and that mattered more than anything.
Chapter 9
Ruenen
He never expected to see her again.
