Page 47 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile (Compelling Fates Saga #3)

Loche

G eyia stood by the stove in the cramped cabin, and while they had brought little food with them in their haste to leave to find Lessia, his friend must have managed to whip something up, from the mouthwatering smells filling the small room.

Loche apparently wasn’t the only one starving, as almost every inch of the room was filled with people. Around the same table he sat at, Zaddock and Amalise were seated beside each other, the former still staring at her while she ignored him.

The copper-haired sisters had taken the seats beside Loche, while Kerym had slipped onto the chair beside Pellie, his blue eyes—which were still eerily strong in color, apparently from siphoning almost all the pale Fae’s energy—wandering over the small woman, something like curiosity on his face.

Thissian, who’d been stabbed in the gut, suffering a wound so deep no human would have survived, sat against a wall, his face still blanched but eyes sharp as they took in the room the same way Loche did.

Ardow and Venko sat beside him, the former offering to get Thissian something but being rewarded only with a dismissive wave of the Fae’s hand.

Around them, the Faelings had spread out, making themselves at home on Loche’s ship after abandoning the smaller one they’d come on, although they kept huddled together, throwing somewhat suspicious looks at the Siphon Twins.

He’d decided with Geyia and Steiner that it would be best if they remained together, not just because they might need that magic he’d only caught a glimpse of when the Faelings saved them from Meyah, but because they were running out of time.

Geyia and the others had told him they’d raced away from several strange ships when they left Ellow’s water, and that the whispers in Ellow confirmed they only had days until the rebels attacked.

Thankfully, they’d also seen his soldiers follow the orders he’d borrowed Raine’s eagle to deliver.

His men—following the orders he’d sent—were rounding up all the men and women in Ellow who were willing to fight, putting them on the ships they had left from the last war, and sending all those too old or young or sick to the caves for safety.

Some of them might be rebels, as Loche had refused to cause mistrust and chaos already before the fight began, but he harbored a small hope that if they saw their friends and neighbors fall at the rebels’ swords, they might reconsider.

It was a fragile hope, of course, but if Lessia of all people could keep a small flame burning after everything… so could he.

Loche’s eyes stayed on some of the younger Faelings. There was a boy there who looked only twelve or thirteen, his body lanky in the way Loche’s had been when he finally grew at eleven, and his raven hair messy in a way that told him the child didn’t care what it looked like.

It was almost too much when gray eyes met his. Even if they were darker than his own, they carried the same suspicion Loche hadn’t been able to erase after his own years on the streets.

From what Lessia had told him, these Faelings hadn’t had it easy.

Still, they were here. They were fighting. For this fucking wretched world. For Ellow—a nation that hadn’t been kind to them either.

Those gray eyes continued to bore into his own, and Loche found himself struggling to look away, something stirring in him when more eyes turned his way, sizing him up.

A white-haired woman, one who seemed to be the leader of the Faelings, found his eyes briefly before she winced—actually winced at him—and turned away, backing up a few steps.

One by one, the half-Fae focused on Geyia again, their eyes lighting up when she threw quips their way, exactly like she’d done with Loche when they got to know each other to make him comfortable with her—every pair but the gray ones that had captured Loche’s eyes first.

They narrowed as they swept over Loche’s dark clothing—the simple but expensive cut of his trousers and shirt—and a feeling of unease crept up on the regent when he realized what ill-fitting clothing they were all clad in.

Loche cleared his throat, and before he realized what he was doing, he addressed the Faelings, silencing the soft smattering of plates and hushed conversations in the room.

“I promise you, if we win the war, things will be different. Ellow will be different.” He nodded once as he sought the young boy’s eyes before meeting each pair around him. “You will not need to hide anymore. Not from anyone.”

It was quiet for a second, and the mistrust tensing in the air was palpable as the gray-eyed young boy spoke up.

“That’s not why we’re here.” One of his arms shot out, sweeping across the group. “Lessia fought for us when no one else would. We will fight for her until our last breath if that’s what it takes.”

His eyes held a wisdom that was too old for his age as he continued.

“You might be regent, but you didn’t do anything for us.

Even if you must have known what it was like.

And from what I’ve now heard, you’re a halfling yourself.

” He spat out the vile word as if it was hard for him to even let his lips touch it.

“Ledger!” Geyia’s wide eyes flew to Loche before she stepped toward the boy. “That’s no?—”

Loche lifted a hand, rising from his chair. “It’s fine, Geyia.”

Pushing his chair in, he looked around the room. At his friends. At the Fae warriors. At the Faelings, shying away from Ledger, who still kept his chin raised, although Loche could tell his small hands shook even if he tried to hide them behind his back.

“He’s right.” Loche forced himself not to swallow in the silence.

“Ledger here is right. I didn’t do anything for you.

It wasn’t until Lessia opened my eyes that I understood what was happening right under my nose.

” He rested his hands on the back of the chair.

“I’ve made many, many mistakes in the past years.

With my people… with my friends. With those I love. ”

Loche paused for a second, making sure he was certain of what he was planning to say next.

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation within him.

“That’s why I will step down as regent after this war. Ellow needs to heal. Our people need to heal. And we need a fresh start for that. I claimed this seat unjustly, and… I risked everything… I…”

“Loche,” Zaddock pleaded. “This isn’t necessary. We need you. Ellow needs you.”

“But it is.” Loche couldn’t not swallow then, his throat itching for some reason. “I love Ellow. So much. But that’s why I need to do this.”

“No,” Pellie broke in, a serene smile softening her features. “But the fact that you’re willing to do it proves that you’re what Ellow needs.”

Loche began shaking his head, but Pellie continued, her long hair swishing over her shoulder as she turned more toward him. “We all make mistakes, regent. It’s what we do after that counts.”

Pellie shot a quick look at her sister before finding Loche’s eyes once more.

“We’ve seen you hurt for Lessia, but you still stand behind her, broken heart and all.

We’ve seen you being lied to, deceived, and tricked, but you still believe in a different world.

We’ve seen you care—care more than we think the cold, lethal Loche ever wanted anyone to know he could—for your people, your friends, even the Fae.

That’s why your people will need you more than ever when this is over.

” Her smile grew wider. “That’s why we believe in you. ”

Loche just stared at her; then a rough voice broke in.

“Who are you, woman?” Kerym seemed almost mesmerized, his blues shining when Pellie turned back toward him.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Pellie teased, her hand touching his cheek briefly. “When it’s time.”

The Fae warrior blushed. Crimson bloomed across his sharp cheekbones, his eyes widening as they followed the hand Pellie placed back in her lap, and Loche realized he wasn’t the only one who was openly gawking when a raspy laugh rang behind him.

“I don’t care who or what you are, but the fact that you made my crude brother blush…” Thissian had to gasp for air. “That… I’ll always love you for.”

Thissian’s laughter broke the suffocating tension, and conversations began around the room again, plates being handed out by Geyia and Steiner, and even those gray eyes that had been locked on him left to focus on the bowls of soup being pressed into the Faelings’ hands.

Loche accidentally met Thissian’s eyes as he waved Geyia away, wanting her to give the others food first, and he couldn’t help but notice how the blue eyes were so similar to his brother’s but darker, harder, as if they carried so much more pain.

He almost missed it when the Fae inclined his head.

“She’s right, you know.” Thissian’s legs shook when he used the wall to get up from his seated position and started toward the door.

Loche found himself following him, and in a comfortable silence, they ascended the stairs to the deck, where a cool breeze had Loche grateful for the jacket he wore.

They crossed the deck until Thissian folded his legs over the railing and sat on it, letting his feet dangle over the frothing sea beneath.

Mirroring his position, Loche swung his own legs over, letting the sense of his gut churning wash across the lingering sorrow he hadn’t been able to shake after the meeting with his mother.

“She is right,” Thissian said again. “You are a good man, regent.”

Loche scoffed, his eyes on the darkening horizon where only a few orange flames licked the sea.

“You might not believe it, but everyone else does.” Thissian sighed, the rush of air sounding similar to the wind ripping into Loche’s jacket.

“I feel your pain, you know. I might not be an empath like the white-haired Faeling girl, but even I can taste it. Kerym can too.”

Loche sneaked a look at the Fae, but his eyes were forward, almost unseeingly staring out into the evening light.

“I’m fine,” Loche muttered when Thissian said nothing else.

“I’m sure you are. But it’s also all right not to be,” the warrior responded. “You’re lucky humans don’t have mates. It would be worse. Much worse.”

Loche filled his lungs with salty air. “Was it… was it hard for him?” he asked.

Thissian turned his way, and Loche met his eyes as a sad smile curved the Fae’s mouth.

“It nearly killed him. But he would have let her go. If she’d chosen you, he would have let her go.”

Loche shook his head. Merrick was a better man than he would ever be.

“You’re letting her go too.”

Thissian frowned when Loche scoffed again. “But you are. I saw you comfort her before we left. Merrick saw it too. You took some of her pain away. Some of her guilt.”

“That was nothing.” Loche waved dismissively.

He still hated himself, knowing that if she showed one sign—just one—that she might still want him, he’d fight for his life to win her back.

“It’s never nothing to carry pain because you’re relieving another.”

Loche chewed his lip as he observed Thissian.

He seemed strangely confident of that.

His mind went to Kerym’s bright blue eyes, then to Thissian’s sorrow-muddled ones, and understanding knitted in his stomach.

“You’re taking his pain, aren’t you?” Loche asked.

Thissian was silent for a moment.

“You can never tell him,” the Fae finally offered.

“He was… He loves so hard, my brother. Lessia reminds me of him sometimes. He loves unconditionally, doesn’t care if it’s right or wrong, and doesn’t care if he loves people more than they love him.

When she… when our mates died… he nearly did too. I had to do something.”

Loche took a steadying breath. “Is it worth it?”

Thissian didn’t hesitate. “To see him blush like today? To see him smile and laugh and maybe even feel something again? It’s worth all the damned pain in the world.”