Page 122 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile

The gods could take it or leave it.

A laugh trilled through him—the feeling almost similar to Raine’s liquor’s first warming licks—and Merrick shook his body, forcing out a sharp breath not to let it affect him.

She must die, Merrick. It’s what’s been prophesied. It’s what must happen.

“No!” He didn’t care that he screamed like a damned teenager who hadn’t learned to control his temper. He wouldn’t accept it.

“How can I save her?” Merrick snarled, his voice reverberating around him, almost mocking him when the echo only picked up the last two words.

Save her.

Save her.

I wouldn’t advise trying that, either, Guardian of Death.

Guardian of… Merrick ignored the name when he realized the gods might not have answered his question exactly, but had given him an answer all the same.

“So there is a way?” Merrick began pacing back and forth, his mind racing through different scenarios.

I wouldn’t advise it.

His feet moved faster.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

“Answer me. Yes or no?”

It was quiet for a while, his harsh breaths mingling with the thuds of his feet hitting the mirrored ground the only things breaking it. But then…

Yes.

But there will be consequences. Severe consequences that you’ll most certainly regret. Consequences that will harm both you and her, Guardian of Death.

“I don’t care!” Merrick growled. “As long as she is alive, that’s all that matters! As long as she’s breathing and fucking living, I don’t care about anything else.”

Really?

Something stilled in the air. Anticipation, maybe, he thought, as his muscles stiffened in response.

Then the wall before him melted, and when Merrick caught a glimpse of Lessia’s golden-brown hair, he sprinted toward it.

But there must still have been a barrier between them, as he slammed into something solid—something that had his nose crunching as it forced him to a stop.

Even as hot blood flooded his face, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Lessia.

It wasn’t the Lessia he’d sailed here with. This one was clean—her hair longer and sparkling in what seemed like summer sun shining down on her.

Her skin had a shimmering hint to it, and she was clad in a dress, a golden one that reminded him too much of the one Loche had once given her.

It was as if he had conjured the regent.

Merrick could only watch as Lessia noticed the dark-haired man, and when a wide smile spread across her face, a mirroring one softened Loche’s features.

A shaky huff left Merrick when Loche opened his arms and Lessia ran right into them, winding her tan arms around his neck, and despite that it shouldn’t have been possible for him to hear them, all the loving words Loche whispered into her ear, the promises of a future, of a throne, of a position by his side, ruling Havlands together with kindness instead of fear, pierced Merrick’s heart like an arrow.