Page 68 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile (Compelling Fates Saga #3)

Loche

S omething had happened.

Loche couldn’t describe it, but it was as if the world around him stilled, and he looked up from his mother’s scowling face to find Merrick by himself at the stern of the ship.

The Fae didn’t seem injured, but something was off…

Lessia wasn’t beside him.

Loche’s head snapped from side to side, finding the witch sisters watching over Kerym as he screamed out his sorrow over his brother, finding Zaddock gently setting Amalise on her feet, seeing Raine and Frelina holding on to each other as if they were the only ones left in the world, but…

No Lessia.

Even before he lifted his blurred vision to the scene that didn’t just break his heart but snapped his entire soul in two, he knew.

Somehow, he could feel it in his bones.

Sure enough, a violet reflection with a smaller golden one atop it—stark against the light blue horizon—raced toward the wave and the ship behind it.

As if in a trance, Loche stumbled across the deck, his eyes never leaving the wyvern and the woman riding on it, watching as they swam closer and closer to the armada—led by the gilded ship, where they could now make out Rioner standing in the bow, his dark green cape flowing behind him and hands raised above his head.

Loche didn’t know what to say as he took the spot beside Merrick.

The Fae whose skin usually glowed subtly golden looked like a wraith, those dark eyes that intimidated even Loche at his worst moments so empty and full at the same time, as if he didn’t know what to feel.

“She told me to let her go,” Merrick said in a monotone.

Loche’s stomach turned at the torment darkening the Death Whisperer’s face.

“Where is she?” It appeared as if the rest of them noticed the world was no longer the same, because the silence that followed Frelina’s scream… it had Loche swerve, and he pretended that he placed a hand on Merrick’s shoulder to comfort him, but really, he needed it as much himself.

“Where?” Lessia’s sister cried. “Where is she?”

No one responded, but Loche heard the group behind them approach, and he’d never felt anything like it when they silently took the places around them: Zaddock, Amalise, and Iviry by Loche’s side.

Kerym and the sisters by Merrick. Ardow and Venko holding on to each other as they sidled up by Zaddock.

And finally, Frelina sprinted up to the railing, her scream echoing across the bay. “No! Elessia! No!”

The redheaded Fae came up behind her, and he didn’t react as Frelina fought the arms he placed around her waist, holding her back from diving into the sea.

As if she’d be able to catch up with her sister, who was now mere moments from reaching the ship.

“No, no, no,” Frelina cried, her fists slamming against the railing. “Please! We have to do something!”

“Little…” Raine winced as he caught Loche’s eyes after watching Merrick, who appeared to lose all hope beside him. “Frelina… there is nothing we can do to stop her.”

“What is she doing?” Zaddock breathed when they saw something red glint in the air by Lessia’s hand as she used the wyvern’s spikes to climb higher, almost settling herself by the creature’s head.

“She is killing the king.” Merrick had begun rocking back and forth, and the movement shifted Loche as well as he kept his hold on the Fae’s shoulder. “She is killing him. And she is killing herself.”

Kerym had stopped his wailing, but a low cry began building again in the Fae warrior’s chest—one that didn’t belong there—one that Loche knew he’d have nightmares about for the rest of his life.

The sisters joined in, hums of sorrow whirring in their bodies.

Then Amalise started sobbing, her tears running freely.

Then Ardow broke apart, falling to the deck as Venko tried to hold him together.

Iviry was quiet beside him, but Loche felt the fear rolling off the Fae, and he didn’t recoil when her hand brushed his.

Still, Loche didn’t know what terrified him the most.

Merrick’s face—the rage and fury and sorrow and love and pride that didn’t seem to be able to decide which emotion was strongest—or how small Lessia looked as she repositioned herself on that wyvern.

The world around them quieted, almost as if the entire realm held its breath.

And… perhaps it did.

The strange Fae above them stopped throwing their rocks, only watching the lone half-Fae and her wyvern rushing toward one hundred Fae ships.

The people on the vessels around them stopped their fleeing—the humans and rebels unable to tear their eyes away from the golden-brown-haired woman with the most beautiful amber eyes who carried all their fates as she rushed toward an entire army.

While the Reinsdor ships still sailed to get away from the towering water, Loche could see how the Fae on them turned backward, not to watch the water but to follow Lessia’s wild ride.

Even in the bay, even with the wave still coming for them, people were watching.

Waiting.

Wondering what that one woman could do.

His damned mother had quieted as well.

If he didn’t know better, Loche would have thought he saw Rioner’s own men wince, their faces tinged with shame, as they watched Lessia ready herself atop the violet wyvern.

Because she was readying herself.

A glacial chill wove its way down Loche’s back, raising every hair on his body.

The ruby-decorated dagger in her hand was clearly visible now, and Lessia’s bared teeth glinted in the sunlight as Ydren ducked and swerved and dove to escape the waves Rioner tried to send their way. Rioner, who stood straight-backed, smirking in the bow, surrounded by hundreds of his soldiers.

There was no fear in the king’s eyes, and yet… that coldness spread through Loche. He didn’t know how the world around them could be so silent.

But as Lessia and Ydren managed to get within thirty feet of the gilded ship, everything else slowed down.

No one breathed.

No one moved.

Even the wind died down.

The entire sea could hear Lessia’s scream as Ydren flew out of the water, the sun shining through her leathery wings, and the crimson dagger went flying.

“This is for us!”

It was such a simple statement, but somehow it seemed to rush through every person who watched the scene unfolding, and Loche wasn’t the only one who staggered at the sincerity of Lessia’s words.

The us wasn’t just the ones standing on this ship and the ones Loche had funded around them.

The us was the rebels.

The us was the half-Fae and shifters.

The us was humans and Fae who stood with them and against them.

The us was even the Oakgards’ Fae above them.

Loche’s eyes fixed on Lessia’s shining blade whistling through the air. Something else met the dagger halfway, and Loche thought he saw a cross of gold and red, before his wide eyes watched Lessia’s dagger hit true.

It lodged itself right in Rioner’s chest, his surprised expression shifting to one of pain before the king fell backward and the soaring wave splashed into the sea.

It was entirely silent for a second, the only sound the wall of water being swallowed again by the sea.

Then someone cheered.

The cheer was lonely at first, before more of them erupted.

In the bay.

Around them.

Clapping joined the voices.

Rioner’s ships sailed more slowly, and the Fae on the cliffs began mumbling amongst themselves.

The wyverns, who’d until now remained still, approached hesitantly, their colorful scales painting the water in every color Loche could imagine.

It was relief, happiness, confusion, and hope all at once that mounted around them.

The fighting didn’t recommence.

Rebels held on to humans as they watched Rioner’s ship come to a complete halt.

“She saved us.”

“The half-Fae saved us.”

The whispered words filled the air until every rebel and human ship called Lessia’s name.

“Lessia!”

“Lessia!”

“Lessia!”

They yelled her name like a chant, and Loche couldn’t help but let a smile tug at his lips.

Lessia probably hated every second of it.

His eyes went to search for her, for the wyvern who hadn’t yet returned to the sea, when the worst sound he’d ever heard shook the realm.

Merrick’s scream made the chill he’d felt before feel like a warm breeze.

Every muscle in Loche’s body coiled, and he could barely move enough to watch Ydren screech as she whipped her wings, flying straight for their ship.

Something dark dripped into the water beneath them, painting Ydren’s scales on its way down, and Loche didn’t have to smell the air for iron to understand what it was.

The moments it took the beast to reach them were the worst in Loche’s life.

The worst until Ydren’s wings nearly tripped them all as she landed on the deck, breaking apart the railing in her haste.

The sounds leaving Merrick were mirrored in the wyvern, but the Fae didn’t hesitate as he sprinted up to Ydren, pulling something into his arms.

Someone…

Someone who was too still. Too peaceful. Too… injured.

A dagger with beautiful amber stones covering the hilt was embedded deep in Lessia’s chest. But that chest… it moved, and as Loche sank to his knees beside the sitting Merrick and Lessia, who lay halfway across his lap, her eyes were open.

The others came running after him, and falling to the deck, they surrounded the woman he’d loved more than anything, each one, even Iviry, placing a hand on her damp body.

No one said anything, but Loche wasn’t surprised, since the tears that had started watering his cheeks now wetted the faces of everyone around him.

Large tears rushed down the Death Whisperer’s face as he whispered, “I hate… I fucking hate how much I love you. And I hate you for doing that… but… I am so fucking proud of you. Do you hear that?”

Everyone watched as Lessia reached up a hand to cup Merrick’s cheek, and even if the moment should be too vulnerable—too personal—they couldn’t look away as she whispered back, “I know. I know.”

Then she coughed, a bloodied, wet cough that made Frelina’s sobs turn into a shriek.