Page 37 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile (Compelling Fates Saga #3)

“She can’t hurt me,” Loche growled when Kerym continued to argue and Soria’s hand on his arm tightened its grip. “I don’t care what you call me or how much you hate me. I only want to understand why you are spearheading this damned rebellion and how I can get you to stop.”

“Such impatience… I’d heard as much about you. But it all ties together, you see.” Meyah tsked. “You were such a disappointment, I had no choice but to set you on this path.”

“On. What. Path,” Loche gritted between clenched teeth.

He was losing his patience, and despite what he hoped he displayed outwardly, Meyah’s words were finding a way through the thick armor he thought he had built around his heart.

Like needles, they weaseled their way through his skin, pricking him where it hurt the most, accompanied by his mother’s voice, which loved to echo in his thoughts whenever he doubted himself.

Another woman who doesn’t love you.

Because you’re worthless.

Loche set his jaw harder at the voice in his mind.

“Remember who you are, regent.” Soria’s voice was so low that Meyah couldn’t hear her.

Moving his eyes to her blue ones, Loche drew a breath.

Then another, until his chest moved rhythmically again and he could focus his eyes on his mother once more.

Meyah opened her mouth as if no time had passed, as if she hadn’t noticed how Loche had nearly lost it, and his forehead creased for a moment.

But he didn’t have time to ponder it before Meyah spoke again. “You must have wondered by now why you’re not a shifter?”

He had, but he remained quiet.

“So useless, even from birth.” An exasperated rush of air left the shifter, and the Fae behind her moved for the first time as she began walking back and forth.

Like shadows the half-Fae followed her every step, even as the one with long hair kept his gaze on Kerym and Thissian, who in turn watched Loche with expressions that turned more horrified for every vile word leaving Meyah’s mouth.

Zaddock, however, didn’t throw Loche any pitying looks—perhaps because he knew him too well, or because he was too preoccupied with tracing every movement of the pale Fae.

“I at least hoped you’d help grow our people when I found out I was having you.

But no… you’re a halfling without any powers.

You’re rare, you know? Most half-shifters can at least shift into one other form.

But not you. No, I tried everything. Throwing you off the roof to see if you’d sprout wings like the birds nesting outside our house.

Nothing. Casting you into the water to see if you’d develop gills to breathe.

No, I had to get you out, as you only sank and stopped breathing.

” The expression on the shifter’s face was so disgusted that Loche couldn’t stop himself from staggering back.

He fucking hated himself for it.

He was used to this, he reminded himself. People despised him, and that was all right. That was how he’d convinced himself he’d be all right when he forced Lessia away; he’d not known warmth before her, and he believed he could just return to that.

But he’d been so wrong.

“When I realized you were no shifter, I had to devise another use for you.” Meyah halted so abruptly that the Fae walking a half step behind her nearly stormed into her.

“Did you not think it strange that Geyia took you in that first time she saw you? A shifter shunned by everyone? I was the one who convinced her to—although she never truly knew why, of course. She’s not strong enough either.

Not like me. But she would care for you—she’s strange like that—and I knew we needed to get you into the best possible position for our cause, and what better than by ensuring you had some empathy for our kind?

And look what we did!” Meyah threw out her hands.

“You’re the regent! I knew you’d do well in the navy—you at least gained the strength and the build of a shifter—and as soon as we started feeding you all that information?

You have a bit of my cunning in you. I didn’t think you had enough spine to stand up against us, though.

Not after Geyia’s weakness and mushiness…

But I guess it worked out in the end anyway.

Because here you are—begging for me and my people to stand down.

Begging for my mercy when you should fight beside us. ”

Loche only stared at her, unable to meet the gazes of the others, which he felt locked on his face.

His entire life… was a lie.

He hadn’t done anything.

Geyia… The information…

“You killed my friends,” Loche said in a monotone as the consequences of refusing the rebels’ wishes flickered in his mind—the friends they’d attacked and killed because of Loche.

“They were holding you back.” Meyah seemed to study him as well, probably reveling in the fucking pain shooting from every nerve inside him.

Everything was a fucking lie… and the worst part?

There was only one person he wanted to speak to about it. One person who would understand—who would know what he needed. But she wasn’t his to need anymore.

His eyes drifted southwest, to where she should be right now, and unfortunately, his mother’s gaze followed.

“You miss her?” Meyah asked, her voice mockingly sweet. “Miss the other little halfling who appears as weak as you are. I guess it makes sense why you fell for each other.”

Low growls echoed behind him from the Fae twins, and this time even Zaddock halted, his face twisting into the expression that meant he was about to lose control.

“Fuck you,” Loche said quietly.

“What did you say?” Meyah’s voice remained in that sickly sweet tone.

“I said fuck you,” Loche snarled. “Get off my ship before I kill you.”

“Oh, but son, I thought we were here to negotiate?” His mother rounded her eyes innocently. “I thought you would give me what I wanted?”

His hand twitched toward his sword.

He wanted nothing more than to tell her to fuck off again, but the fear for his people still whirled within him. He’d already let them down once…

“What do you want, then?” he demanded, his words strained.

Meyah wiggled her brows. “Kneel.”

“No!”

Loche first thought he was the one who’d snarled it, but it was Zaddock who took a step forward.

“He will not kneel to you.”

Kerym and Thissian made low concurring sounds, and Soria squeezed his arm as if to say Don’t do it.

After shooting his friends a quick look, confirming what he’d inferred, Loche shook his head sharply. “I will not kneel to you. Ellow will not kneel to you.”

Meyah shot him another slow, oily smile. “You asked me what I wanted, and all I want is for you to kneel to me and make me the regent of Ellow.”

He had always hated his mother. Always. But now?

Hate wasn’t a good enough word for the emotions that coursed within him.

Loche only shook his head.

“No?” Meyah laughed again—a laugh that should have been rippling over the wind but that just made his stomach turn—while she shot one of the Fae behind her a look, and when he dropped his gaze…

The air flickered with magic until Lessia stood in his mother’s place.

Her golden-brown hair was long and clean, lying in soft waves over her lowered shoulders—the first time in a while he’d seen it like that. Her innocent amber eyes tracked him when he took a stupid, stumbling step toward her.

Then those full lips shot up, her cheeks rounding and pink tinting them…

He had to press his eyes shut.

“Will you not kneel for me?”

Even her voice was spot on.

“Loche,” Lessia pleaded. “Look at me, darling.”

He could fucking smell her on the wind.

“Loche.” Another female voice reached his ears. “Remember who you are.”

His eyes flew open.

He was the regent of Ellow.

And this wasn’t Lessia. This was his damned mother. The rebel leader. The one who had killed people he loved. Who now planned to kill even more people he cared for.

Loche glared right into the amber eyes before him. “I will never bow to you.”

The mirror of Lessia flicked her hair, but the irritable expression on her face betrayed Meyah. Lessia would never twist her lips like that, narrow her eyes in disgust, or drag her gaze across his friends with that vicious hint to it.

“Suit yourself.”

The world before his eyes went dark.