Page 51 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile (Compelling Fates Saga #3)

Lessia

S alt stung her eyes, and she tried to shield her face behind Ydren’s thick neck when another tall wave threatened to rush over them as the wyvern swam through the water.

Ydren didn’t always seem to realize that unlike her, Lessia wasn’t built for water, and while she didn’t mind it—wasn’t afraid of its depths like she’d learned Frelina was—she couldn’t keep being slapped around by the strong waves that had started rolling in as soon as they closed in on Ellow’s borders.

Lessia stared at the familiar landscape taking shape over the islands dotting the dark ocean around them.

Ellow… She didn’t know what to feel anymore for the nation she’d called home for the past five years.

There had been a time when she’d have argued with anyone—even Merrick—that this was where she was meant to be. But now?

Even if there was a chance for her to survive this war, she wasn’t sure she’d choose to stay here anymore. The ship, while being Rioner’s, had felt more like home for the past few days than the house on Asker she no longer missed.

She knew it was because of Merrick and Frelina, and perhaps because she allowed herself to feel every happy emotion they evoked in her, that she reveled in her feelings. Even Raine, who seemed to have perked up today and came armed with his usual crude comments, made her smile.

Merrick was certain something had happened between Raine and Frelina, had apparently seen her sister sneak out of Raine’s room in the middle of the night, but Frelina and the Fae warrior seemed equally happy, so Lessia let it be. If they could find even an ounce of happiness with what was to come…

Her heart swelled as she cast a glance back to the ship, where Merrick watched her as he always did, while Frelina and Raine seemed to be occupied with their endless teasing on the deck above him.

They’d be all right. She had to believe that.

Merrick had been happy when he realized there was still some hope within her, forcing her to continue their journey, keeping her spirits up even when it seemed like he expected her to break apart each night she snuggled into his arms.

He just didn’t realize it wasn’t for herself.

Ydren made a sharp sound, jerking her neck so hard that Lessia almost fell off.

“What did you do that for?” she snapped at the wyvern when the latter turned her lethal head to glare at Lessia.

The soft glow from Lessia’s arm shone bright even in the cold wintery light that had yet to break into full spring in Ellow, and like she had ever since that stone merged with her, she somehow understood what the wyvern was thinking.

“I’m not pitying myself.” Lessia glared back at her. “I am not. I am merely enjoying whatever time I have left.”

The wyvern scoffed, sending streams of water through her nostrils.

“What do you want me to do!” Lessia snarled, unable to keep from showing the beast her teeth, although they had little on Ydren’s razor-sharp, feet-long ones.

“I’m fighting as much as I can. I will fight for them, but I’ll also fight for myself.

I am not planning on rolling over and dying, if that’s what you think! ”

The wyvern hissed at her, the rush of the air splashing more water onto Lessia’s face, and Ydren’s violet eyes flashed as they stared into her own.

“I know you’re strong, Ydren.”

It wasn’t a struggle for Lessia to lower her voice. They’d had this fight every day since they started the journey back to Ellow.

It had started with Lessia refusing to allow Ydren to join the war, telling her that the other wyverns were all staying back.

But the wyvern wasn’t having it. She’d pouted and cried and pleaded with Lessia every day for her to change her position. Had told her repeatedly that if Lessia allowed her to fight, Ydren could protect her, make sure the king didn’t come near her.

But Lessia didn’t want to. Ydren might be older than she was—somewhere around seventy years in the way humans counted—but Auphore had told Lessia enough for her to realize Ydren was barely more than a child still.

Like the Fae, wyverns could live almost forever unless injured, but they didn’t mature as quickly as the Fae did.

Ydren was technically an adolescent. A clever and stubborn one, Lessia thought as Ydren began the soft whimpers that she knew damn well broke Lessia’s heart.

Her heart, but not her resolve, because if she wanted to somehow get all the wyverns to fight willingly, sacrificing one of their own—a near child, at that—was probably not advisable.

A large tear snaked its way down Ydren’s snout, lingering on one of her scales before it fell into the sea beneath them, and the beast’s sad eyes held on to Lessia’s.

“I would miss you too,” Lessia croaked, holding on for her life not to let her shaking hands lose their grip on the spikes lining Ydren’s neck as the wyvern’s sorrow struck her chest like a fist.

“I’d miss all of you,” she continued, throwing another look at the ship and trying to keep the warmth in her chest from being overtaken by the fear of leaving them all behind. “I’d miss you so much.”

Ydren blinked at her, and Lessia could tell the wyvern was holding back more tears.

“I can’t say it’s all going to be fine.” Lessia smiled through the words she knew were harsh, but she’d appreciated how Merrick never lied to her—never tried to gloss over the truth—and wanted to do the same for her new friend.

“But this is life, Ydren. The life the gods created and we try to navigate. It may not be fair, it may not be fun, but this right here… it’s living.

It’s fighting. It’s loving. It’s… all I can do. ”

Ydren opened her maw in a silent cry, one that Lessia knew could have echoed across the ocean but that the wyvern quelled for the fear of rebels getting to them before they could get to their friends, and Lessia stroked her soft scales, trying to share some of the calm that had settled within her at the Lakes of Mirrors.

The gods had given her time.

She’d realized that when she’d spoken to Evrene.

They’d given her a loving family.

They’d given her friends she couldn’t even dream up.

They’d given her not one but two loves.

One that she hoped would turn into another great friendship before her life was over, and another… another that she pinched herself every day to make sure it was real.

Merrick was…

She couldn’t help the smile breaking out across her face as she thought of the Death Whisperer, the Fae everyone feared, who was grumpy and broody and sharp but who stared at her like she was his sun, his only reason for waking up every day.

The Fae who drove her mad with desire every time his fingers found a bit of her naked skin.

The Fae who whispered his own dreams to her when he thought she was sleeping.

She’d almost thought she’d dreamed it the first time. But the night after, when her breathing had slowed after Merrick had exhausted her with every perfect thrust of his hips and lap of his tongue, he’d held her against his chest and told her their story.

The one where they hosted everyone they knew at a mating ceremony.

The one where he asked for her father’s hand like humans did and dropped to a knee before her, begging her to also marry him when she laughed at him, since it had only been days since their formal mating.

The one where she carried his children while he built them all a home on the island she’d grown up on, making sure they all knew of Alarin, their brave grandfather, who’d died to ensure they could be born.

She’d dreamed of it every night after that.

Of silver-haired children running through the tall grass of her childhood home, exactly like she had done.

Of a sweaty, smiling Merrick coming into a stone cabin for dinner, lifting her and settling her on the table before kissing the life out of her.

Of late nights before a sparkling fire and summer days on the cliffs and winter rides through the forest.

It was what made her keep smiling throughout the day when other thoughts—the ones far more threatening—claimed her mind.

Even if that smile wasn’t exactly her regular one.

It was strange, the happiness of what could have been—a future she could nearly taste but would never realize.

She knew they all saw through her new smile, but the fact that they didn’t call her out on it made her love them even more.

Ydren jerked beneath her, and Lessia snapped her head forward when a low rumble racked the wyvern’s strong body.

Her eyes rounded as she beheld the scene ahead.

Thirty or so of Ellow’s warships stood side by side before an impossibly steep, dark cliff—one that reminded her of those skirting Korina. There were several inlets in the cliff, making this side of the island look almost like a comb, with tall ebony teeth shooting up from the water.

In front, twenty feet or so ahead of the others, Loche’s ship proudly floated, the sail that bore his own symbol, the one he’d apparently only raised the day he was elected six years ago, stark against the dark island.

The mark was fitting, Lessia thought as she nudged Ydren to bring her back to the ship.

Almost the shape of a heart, it had what looked like a bolt of lightning splitting it, tearing the two sides apart. Only a small piece at the bottom sealed them together, fighting to keep each side from tumbling away from the other.

“Stay with the other wyverns when I am not around,” she ordered Ydren as Merrick reached out his arms to help her onto what had once been Rioner’s vessel, which she now claimed as her own. “I doubt the humans will know what to make of you.”

With a hiss that Lessia hoped was agreement, Ydren dove into the dark water just as Lessia jumped, right into Merrick’s arms.

His lips tickled her ear as he held on to her far longer than needed, and she blushed when he whispered, “If you continue to tire yourself from riding her all day, I might begin to get jealous. I’d much prefer to be the one you have those beautiful legs wrapped around.”

She went to peck him, but Merrick captured her lips in a more passionate, deeper kiss than she’d expected, and she was slightly lightheaded when he finally set her down.

Swatting at him when she noted the smirk on his face, she finally turned back to the group of people who had begun gathering in the bows of every ship.

Lessia knew exactly why Merrick kept his hand sliding up and down her back as rows and rows of humans glared at them as they sailed up to the ship where Loche stood in the front, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun setting behind them.