Page 5 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile (Compelling Fates Saga #3)

Lessia

Y ou’re strong enough.

Lessia jerked as she awoke, trying not to panic at the rattling chains and the damp blindfold Rioner’s guards had tied around her head, which irritated her skin.

Merrick’s voice still echoed in her mind from the dream, and she could almost hear him tell her Only you and me, could almost taste his soft lips against hers, could almost smell his familiar wild scent fold around her.

She couldn’t stop the sob that left her lips.

“Lessia, are you in pain?” Her father’s voice sounded somewhere to her right.

She hesitated for a moment, listening to the metallic rustles and Kerym’s whispered words to his brother, who still hadn’t responded in the hours they’d been here; to her sister’s soft breathing; and to her father’s repeated “Lessia?”

Was she in pain?

Not physically.

Although she still had a strange aching sensation traveling up her right arm…

Not even mentally.

She didn’t know how, but… the tears that fell from her eyes as she thought of Merrick weren’t of sorrow.

They were of resolve, of what she knew she must do.

She’d made a vow back on Raine’s island: to fight back—to do whatever it took.

It was time now.

It was really time.

Before it all ran out. Before something happened on this ship that she couldn’t control. Before her family or friends were harmed because of her.

Lessia had already suspected back on Ellow that Rioner would somehow figure out she was the one the curse was about.

The king wasn’t dumb.

But she hadn’t told anyone her suspicions because she knew she needed to be close to him if she was to fulfill the gods’ prophecy—if she was to kill him.

So she’d let them all believe she’d trusted their plan to confront the king, all the while knowing it was quite likely Rioner would take her away.

If her friends had suspected what she expected to happen, even Merrick might have locked her up in one of Loche’s cellars to keep her away from King Rioner.

Especially if he’d known the entire prophecy…

But now… she was only a few feet beneath Rioner if, as she suspected, some of the thumping footsteps above them belonged to the Fae king.

Lessia had prayed that her father and Frelina might be out of the king’s claws when she had to do this—that they wouldn’t be put in harm’s way.

But that wasn’t her reality now.

So she would need to act quickly.

Alone.

Ensure no one, not even the people in this room, knew her plan.

It wasn’t the best one.

Perhaps it was only a plan , as Raine had once so rudely stated.

But she knew the king underestimated her.

He still believed she was the broken Faeling he’d dragged out of his cellars, and she’d make sure that was precisely what he continued to think.

That Elessia was only a broken, weak halfling that the king could drive to the brink of absolute despair—that he could break and shatter and snap.

Because if she didn’t convince him of that, Rioner would ensure she truly broke. He’d kill or perhaps even trick her into killing one of the people in this room.

There was no more time to lose.

So when her father demanded “Lessia, please answer me,” she forced the guilt out of her mind and began screaming.

Given everything, it wasn’t too difficult to make her body shake, each scream that left her more heart wrenching than the next as she thought of her mother, as she made herself think of never seeing Merrick again, as she thought of the risk to the rest of her family.

“Lessia. You’re all right! You’re not there.”

She ignored Kerym’s urgent whisper, ignored her sister’s small hand trying to lace with her own, ignored her father’s panicked question, “What’s happening?” and she definitely ignored Kerym’s answer: “She believes she’s back in Rioner’s cellars.”

“Fuck!” Kerym swore as she heard what must be his chains clinking. “Didn’t think I’d miss Merrick so quickly. Lessia! You’ll make all the guards on this ship come down here.”

That’s exactly what she hoped for.

Lessia continued wailing, shaking off all loving touches, and even when a creaking door opened and heavy footsteps moved the planks they sat upon, she let her cries reverberate around the ship.

“Stop that!” someone ordered.

Lessia screamed louder.

“Enough, halfling!” Hands grasped her shoulders, shaking her.

She filled her lungs and put every pent-up emotion behind the next scream.

“What is this ruckus?”

Lessia fought a relieved grin and cried out again when the king’s voice drifted toward her.

“Stop her right now!” the king demanded. “She’s so fucking loud, any ships within a mile will hear her.”

She almost nodded to herself as she let out another harsh shout.

She’d known the king wouldn’t want to be found. Not with her father chained up beside her. Not with the Siphon Twins—the twins still considered heroes amongst the Fae—shackled beside him.

The sound of her scream died in her throat when her head flew to the side, and sharp pain exploded behind her eyes as whoever had slapped her used far more strength than her sister had done that one time.

Still, she forced out another shriek.

“Enough!”

The fist that connected with her nose was entirely unforgiving, and hot blood flooded her mouth when her bone crunched.

Head-splitting pain burst through her face as she tried to scream again, but it was muffled when whoever hit her stuffed something foul-smelling into her mouth, hindering her ability to breathe.

The moan that followed was a real one as Lessia had to draw a breath through the nose she expected was shattered, and when her body twitched to curl into itself as the air stilled, she let it.

The next strike still rang true.

Her head slammed so hard into the wall behind her that she must have lost consciousness for a second, because when she came to, her father was screaming at Rioner.

“—enough! She’s a child, Rioner! My child! Your niece!”

Lessia shook her head, realizing the blindfold had slipped off somewhat from the beating, and by squinting, she could make out Torkher grinning coldly where he squatted before her, the king standing behind him with four guards on either side.

Even though the dirty piece of fabric still covered some of her vision, Lessia could tell the guards—apart from the damned sadist Torkher—were uneasy.

Their gazes flitted so fast between her father and his brother and then back to each other, she wouldn’t have been able to make it out if she hadn’t been half-Fae.

But this was good.

They were loyal enough to the king that they’d kill her—or at least find a way to break her entirely.

But she didn’t believe they’d let her father die.

Hopefully not even her sister.

Her family was innocent.

She’d bet on that as soon as she’d seen how they stared at her father in that cage on the ship—how they’d hesitated at the king’s orders, mumbled to each other when they followed his demands, and the disapproving jerks of their heads as they led Thissian onto the deck.

Only she would be the one to lose her life.

And Rioner, if she was able to bring him with her.

Blood trickled down her throat as she pulled in another wheezing, painful breath through her nose, but she ignored the agony when the king opened his mouth.

“It’s enough when I say it’s enough, brother.” Rioner’s face remained bored as his eyes flew across the chained group. “She is meant to dethrone me. I will sooner die than let a fucking halfling—one that’s related to me, at that?—”

“Don’t say another word, brother.”

Lessia flinched at her father’s warning—his tone so eerily similar to the cold one of the king’s as he glared up at him.

She twisted so she could see him better, and another jab of pain stabbed at her.

But not from her nose.

No, her father’s raging face was almost identical to his brother’s, standing above them.

Cold.

Calculated.

Furious.

A primal rage born only of Fae blood.

She’d never seen him like this, and she couldn’t help but think she’d brought this on them. On him.

This is bigger than you, she tried to remind herself.

It was bigger than her family.

She was doing this for all Havlands.

Lessia tried to repeat the words to herself, but when her father continued and his voice broke—from pain or anger, she wasn’t sure—that cold, sticky feeling of guilt crawled through her veins.

“She is my daughter , brother. My… my daughter! She’s a Rantzier! Have you no mercy?”

Disgust pulled at the king’s features, twisting his already cruel face into one of nightmares. “It makes me feel sick that you made these two, Alarin. Sick! I should have them killed right now just for tainting the Rantzier name.”

Red painted her vision, and Lessia tried to hiss “Don’t you dare” through the dirty rag stuffed into her mouth when the king glanced at her sister, who sat with a straight back, eyes ahead, not an ounce of fear dancing across her soft features as she shifted the chains lying across her lap.

But when Rioner’s cold gaze moved, landing on Lessia’s tightly bound hands, then moved to follow the blood she was certain trickled over her chest, a chill whispered down her spine.

“So you’re not completely broken yet…” The king cocked his head. “Say, how does it feel being separated from Merrick? From Loche? Did it make you feel good, breaking their hearts?”

She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help the slight grimace twisting her features upon remembering Loche’s eyes turning aware again, and when Merrick’s wide, angry gaze met hers as Loche slammed his lips against her own… she physically recoiled.

Shaking her head, she had to fight not to press farther back into the wooden wall behind her.

Why had Loche done what he did?

Something tickled her consciousness, but it was so hazy, the memory still filled with so much pain, she huffed a sharp breath to battle it.

Rioner chuckled. “I saw the regent kiss you. I doubt he’s alive if the Death Whisperer has any backbone left. Merrick probably unleashed those souls of his as soon as he came up for air. It’s what I would have done…”

“Enough! It’s fucking enough,” her father snarled. “Leave her alone. Or I swear…”

The king whipped around so quickly that another jab of pain struck her when she moved her head to follow.

“You do not give me orders, brother. ” Spit flew from Rioner’s mouth as he snarled at her father. “You are the reason there is a risk to our family’s throne. You gave life to this… this disgusting, vile abomination.”

Chaos erupted as Kerym flew forward as far as his shackles would allow, as Frelina screamed something at the king, as her father growled so loudly some of Rioner’s guards blanched.

Lessia couldn’t help but do the same, managing to spit out the fabric in her mouth.

Fighting for her life, she tried to get to the king, wanting to tell him to tell her that to her face, to look her right in the eye as he called her those names.

But it was useless.

Rioner only laughed at the group, and when he ordered “Make them more agreeable, will you?” before spinning on his heel to leave the room, Lessia cried out again.

A harsh, raspy, agony-filled cry as five guards lingered, each with their eyes on one of them.

She tried to get in front of Frelina—tried to press her sister behind her—but Torkher wouldn’t have it.

With a sharp order to another guard, he slammed another fist into Lessia’s face, and the pain pulsated through her so violently she wondered if she’d be sick before he pulled the blindfold down once more.

Sounds she knew she’d never forget began echoing through the ship’s cabin.

Moans.

Cries.

Huffs.

Crunches of bones.

Harsh sounds of breaking skin.

Her sister’s defiant scream.

Her father’s desperate cry.

Kerym’s swearing and threats.

Thissian’s muffled groans.

But still, Lessia didn’t miss the king’s demand: “Torkher. Break her completely. Not just physically but mentally. Whatever it takes, I want her to jump off this ship willingly.”

The laugh brushing her ear as the Fae guard leaned in was the same one that filled her nightmares.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his wet lips dragging across her cheek and his hands roving across her body. “I’ve learned a thing or two since last time, and… I can’t wait to play.”

The scream that burst through her mouth wasn’t forced this time.