Page 102 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile

They weren’t questions.

“You should be able to see them.”

Glancing up at him, she realized he didn’t mean toactuallysee them, not with her eyes.

She’d been able to compel Raine and Kerym in her mind when they tied their own to it, so if the wyvern’s souls were bound to hers and they could hear what she was thinking like the mind-reading Fae… that meant their minds were linked, didn’t it?

It was at least worth a try.

“Hold on to me?” She didn’t mean for it to come out so soft, but those voices—how they tried to mimic her loved ones—unsettled her.

“Always.” Merrick held her gaze until she couldn’t bear it, until she realized there was no way he’d live on and live the dreams she’d hoped might convince him.

Closing her eyes, she focused her gaze inward until the sounds around her muted. Until she didn’t feel the wind or the occasional splash of salt water brought by the sea. Until Merrick’s arm around her waist was the only thing she could feel.

Her mind was dark, but it wasn’t the darkness of Rioner’s cellars.

It didn’t have the desperation to it.

It was sadness. It was sorrow. It was grief.

It was… her emotions.

But as she looked around, truly made herself look at every dark swirl, she noticed things within the darkness.

A bright light shone ahead, and it looked like the stone Loche had pressed into her hand—the one that now lived within her—and she almost took a step toward it when she realized.

It wasn’t the wyvern’s light. This one… It belonged to another.

A silver-haired, feared Fae warrior. One who lit fires and lanterns and set her own body and mind alight, driving away even the most unfathomable darkness.

She could taste the love wafting from the sparkling ball.

His and hers combined. Wildness and kindness and loyalty and passion and acceptance. Lessia couldn’t help but smile as it sparked brighter when she stayed in that feeling for a moment.

Gods, she loved him so much.

More light poured out of the ball.

I love you too,it seemed to say.

She wished she could stay there—stay in all that warmth and love and pain-free space—but there wasn’t time. Tearing her eyes away, which was much harder than she liked to admit, Lessia scanned the rest of the space.

There was another light. One that was filled with many, almost like a bundle of threads of different colors with a more muted glow. One in particular stood out—a violet thread shining brighter than the others—one that was part of them, but also wasn’t. One that was more part of herself.

“Ydren,” she whispered, and was rewarded with a slow roll of the thread, almost as if the wyvern heard her.

Another thread also caught her eye. It was golden, thicker than the others, and also appeared to be connected to them all, even Ydren.

After hesitantly walking up to it, Lessia hovered her hand over the bundle.

It purred, almost like a feline, the threads vibrating against each other, and that strange feeling whirled around her—the tangle of emotions so intense she couldn’t pick out just one.

“I guess this is it.” Lessia aimed for the golden thread, letting her fingers wrap around it.

Her body jerked upright immediately.

Golden eyes set in a large face covered by golden scales—the color reminding her of old honey, a bit darker than her own molten eyes reflected in them—met hers.