Page 32 of A Promise so Bold and Broken (Compelling Fates Saga #2)

Chapter Thirty-Two

L essia didn’t fight the guards when they tied the blindfold back in place before they released her from the chair and secured her hands in front of her body with thick iron that pressed on the raw wound winding down to her wrist.

She didn’t fully understand why they did it—they’d already subdued her again by blowing Vincere into her face, which made her bound arms twitch painfully as they shoved her out of the room.

Perhaps they were being extra cautious.

She could sense Merrick’s presence somewhere beside her, his scent layering over her like a warm blanket in winter, and Lessia drew a shaky breath.

It would be all right.

For some reason, she believed it.

Merrick made her believe it.

He made her… believe in herself.

And for some reason, Loche wasn’t out to kill them.

At least not yet…

They’d convince him.

She’d convince him.

She would.

That much she dared promise herself.

“Oh, are we too early?” A voice cut through the silence, the soft purr of it perking Lessia’s ears.

Her brows furrowed.

She knew that voice.

“Who are you?” Theon, the guard with a tight grip on Lessia’s arm, demanded.

“Vali sent us. He thought you might need some company after being out here all alone for so long,” a more melodic voice chirped.

Another voice Lessia recognized, and she had to force her expression to remain neutral, her gait not to falter as shock jolted her.

The voices belonged to Soria and Pellie.

“Vali?” Something clapped to her right, and if Lessia had to bet, she guessed one of the guards just slapped the other on the back. “What a good man. We only need to return these two to their cell, and then we’ll have some fun. You may wait upstairs.”

“Oh!” Pellie exclaimed. “Are they Fae? I’ve never met a Fae before. What did they do?”

“Bad things. That’s why we’re taking them back to their cells. Head on up now.” Theon’s grip on her arm tightened as he pushed her until she stumbled forward.

“Move faster,” he hissed into her ear, drops of spit landing on her cheek. “I’m going to enjoy myself today. More than I’ve already done.”

“No, you’re not.” The seductive purr in Soria’s voice vanished, and Lessia barely had time to react before air rushed, and a sickening thud of something hitting flesh filled her ears.

A moan sounded somewhere beside her, and her ears picked up two bodies slumping to the ground, one likely Theon, as the hand around her arm released its grip.

Gentle fingers touched her face, and Pellie urged, “One second,” as she worked on the knot at the back of Lessia’s head.

Once the fabric fell to the stone beneath their feet, Pellie’s arms wrapped around her neck, and Lessia’s face was crushed into her copper hair.

“Lessia! We missed you so much,” she said with a sob. “We thought you were dead.”

“My turn.” Soria grinned as she dragged her sister away, pulling Lessia into a softer version of the hug—and without suffocating her with hair, as she kept her own copper hair cropped short.

“We did miss you,” she whispered as she pulled back, her blue eyes glossy in the light from the chandeliers dangling from the arched ceiling.

“I… m-missed you too,” Lessia stuttered as she stepped toward Merrick, her eyes flying across his tall body, making sure he wasn’t injured.

Well… more injured.

Once he’d rolled his eyes at her, she turned back toward the auburn-haired sisters.

Lessia’s confusion must have been evident because they both grinned back at her, and Soria threw out her hands. “Liar. You have probably barely spared us a thought.”

Rubbing her neck, Lessia flicked her eyes to Merrick, but the Fae was of no help as he only shrugged back.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

They were right.

She had barely thought of them since she joined the election.

But they had never truly been friends…

She and Ardow had saved them a few years ago, but it hadn’t only been out of the goodness of their hearts.

They’d needed distractions as they began bringing the children over, and Soria and Pellie were perfect.

Both beautiful, strong, and deprived of a life young women craved.

Pellie shook her head. “We’re teasing you.”

Licking her lips, Soria nodded. “She’s right. We heard whispers in the taverns that traitors had been captured on Asker, and we thought…”

“Must be Lessia, mustn’t it? And we owe you.” Pellie put an arm around her sister.

“We do. You saved us.”

“And we don’t like to owe anyone.”

“We don’t,” Soria confirmed. “And now we’re hopefully even?”

“Especially since we saved that scary Fae male of yours.” Pellie gestured toward Merrick, who’d been watching the sisters talk with his mouth hanging slightly open.

Lessia held back a smile.

They were a lot.

Always talking, always playing, always up to do something fun.

But she’d never imagined they’d risk their lives for her this way.

“Well, shall we get going?” Soria pointed up the spiral stairs behind her. “It’s still a day’s walk to the capital from here.”

The rattling of chains reached Lessia’s ears, but for once, it didn’t immobilize her.

“Soon. We need to save two more.” Lessia dropped down onto her knees by the knocked-out guards.

Eyeing the wooden makeshift weapon the sisters must have grabbed from the forest, she shook her head and began digging into Theon’s pocket, ignoring the pain shooting up her arm when the chains around her wrist scraped against her new tattoo.

More metal clinking told her she’d found what she was looking for, and as soon as she pulled the keys out of his trousers, she got to her feet again and walked up to Merrick.

The traitor’s mark was stark against his skin as she unlocked the cuffs around his wrists, but she refused to look away from the large black letters.

When Merrick quietly took the key from her to free her wrists, she kept her eyes on the identical tattoos marring their arms, following each swerve of the characters, every drop of dried blood peppering his golden skin and her slightly fairer arm.

Traitor.

Wasn’t it what they were, anyway?

She was a traitor to the crown in Vastala.

To her own flesh and blood.

And she would betray Loche without a doubt if that was needed to save Havlands.

Lessia blinked a few times.

But the thought remained.

She would if it came to that.

One of Merrick’s fingers stroked her cheek, and when it reached her neck, she lifted her gaze to his.

His eyes searched hers, and when they didn’t find what she was sure he was looking for, a half smile lit up his face.

“It’s the same one,” he said softly.

You and me.

That’s what he’d said when she’d panicked.

When only his touch could bring her back from the darkness.

She nodded, and his half smile widened into a full one.

It wasn’t the snake mark—the mark they’d shared with countless others who’d gone against King Rioner…

It was their mark.

And regardless of how ugly it was or what it said about them… it was theirs.

Merrick’s and Lessia’s.

“How long are you going to keep us waiting here?” Raine grumbled through the stone, breaking the loaded silence—the conversation she imagined she’d been holding with Merrick’s eyes.

Rolling her neck, she snatched the keys from Merrick and, after trying a few different ones, managed to unlock the thick stone door.

Raine leaned one of his hands against the wall, his back arched because of the short chains fastened in the ground and his head hanging between his shoulders.

Kerym barely reacted, still sitting on the floor, his dark hair shining in the light from the lanterns bordering the hallway that spilled into the cell.

They looked like Lessia felt—tired, dirty, and very, very hungry.

Approaching Raine first, she undid his restraints as swiftly as she could, then crouched to do the same to Kerym.

He reached out to stabilize her when she wavered, the lightheadedness from earlier returning in full force now that the adrenaline was leaving her blood, and before she had time to react, Merrick’s arms slipped in under her own, guiding her to the spot next to Kerym.

After grabbing the keys from her, he finished what she’d started, and when Kerym rose on shaky legs, she made to do the same, grateful for Merrick’s hand, which shot out to help her when black spots flickered before her eyes.

“ These two are our rescuers?” Kerym leaned against the doorframe as he nodded toward Soria and Pellie, who watched the Fae intently. “We’re truly rusty in the ways of war.”

Soria’s brows crashed, and Pellie let out a disapproving sound, but neither responded as they took a few steps back to allow Raine and Kerym to get out of the cramped room.

Raine tried to double back to help Merrick when the latter bent down to drag the two guards into the cell, but after he hissed, “They’re. Mine,” in the lowest voice Lessia had ever heard him speak, Raine backed up, his hands in the air.

Merrick’s eyes landed on hers as he began to shut the door—keeping himself on the side with the guards—and Lessia knew she should have been afraid of the look in his eyes, the one that told her exactly what he planned to do once the stone door slammed shut.

But she wasn’t.

She gave him a nod, and his features softened for the briefest second before they disappeared behind the closed door.

They all remained quiet, trying not to listen to strange noises coming from within the thick wall—the ones Merrick’s whispers might have been preferable to—and while there wasn’t fear in the sisters’ eyes when they tracked Raine and Kerym as they leaned against the wall, there was something else…

Curiosity, Lessia realized.

They weren’t strangers to death, nor to revenge, based on the vague responses Lessia had been given when she found out their mother had died in strange circumstances, but perhaps they hadn’t lied when they said they hadn’t encountered full Fae before.

It wouldn’t be too surprising, given that their mother had kept them locked up in the attic for most of their lives—too afraid of the sisters leaving her once they realized there was a whole world out there.

The smell of iron joined the wet stone when Merrick finally opened the door, but although blood painted his left arm and chest, it was all his own, Lessia realized as he walked over to her.

For a second her thoughts drifted to the harsh sounds that had bounced against the door, wondering what he’d done to the men, but upon remembering the screams from the rebels Merrick had killed back in Ellow, she pushed it from her mind.

That lethal look still remained in his eyes when Lessia caught them, but it softened with every second they stayed locked with hers, and when she kept her chin raised and shoulders down, his taut posture eased—at least a little bit.

“Let’s find our weapons and get out of this damned place.” Merrick’s fingers laced with hers before he gently tugged her down the hallway, with Raine and Kerym following closely behind while Soria and Pellie started up the stairs, stating they’d wait for them by the fire.

As Merrick peeked through the doors lining every few feet of the hallway, Lessia found herself watching him instead.

She sighed deeply when she realized he didn’t look much different than he usually did.

His hair was perhaps slightly more disheveled—a little dust dulling its shine—but it definitely wasn’t as dirty as her own, which hung limp around her face, and the skin on his bare torso still had that slight glow that she’d always been envious of, especially in the winter, when her own almost turned gray.

Even the tattoo seemed to complement him—the black letters somehow contrasting beautifully with his tan, making the ugly word almost seem… alluring.

“Why are you pouting?” Raine nudged her as he overtook them, seemingly eager to find the weapons.

Or perhaps the flask their captors had also taken from him.

Then his eyes snagged on her outstretched arm, and when his gaze slowly moved to Merrick’s arm and then back to hers, his face went white.

“I’m sorry,” Raine mumbled as Kerym’s hand clasped her other wrist, fingers gently squeezing.

Lessia shook off the hand, trying for a smile instead of letting the lump threatening to form in her throat take hold.

“I’m pouting because Merrick still looks like the gods themselves just carved him, and I look exactly like I’ve spent a few days in a gross cell,” she joked, trying to get the Fae to shake the horrified expressions on their faces.

Merrick halted so abruptly that she walked right into him.

After glaring at Raine and Kerym, who continued walking, stating something about “continuing to look,” he spun around to face her.

Gripping her face in his hands, he tilted it upward, his eyes traveling slowly over it—as if he was savoring every inch.

His gaze left a warm trail in its wake, and Lessia couldn’t help her cheeks heating in response to his darkening eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he declared quietly. “You’re always beautiful.”

She thought about arguing.

She could smell herself, after all—see the dirt layering over her skin, the golden-brown strands that appeared more brownish now, and the pale, marred skin the guards had carved into.

But something in his gaze had her swallow the retort.

And when he lifted her arm and pressed his lips against the tattoo, kissing the letters one by one with a feathery touch, she released a trembling breath.

Offering her one of those devastating smiles—one of the ones where he seemed to turn into a completely different person—Merrick wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her against his hard frame.

“Found them!” Raine called out, and she let Merrick guide her toward the room Raine and Kerym had slipped into, farther down the corridor.

Lessia snorted when they walked over the threshold, finding Raine deep into a cabinet filled with bottles, his sword carelessly lying on the floor beneath him.

Kerym threw Merrick a leather tunic that had hung on a chair in the corner of the room. As he released her to pull it on, she walked over to the shelf where her ruby dagger glinted, and relief warmed her gut when the one her father had given her lay farther in.

Lessia tucked them into her waistband and picked up Merrick’s heavy sword from where it lay on a shelf above her dagger.

After trailing her fingers over the red gemstones decorating its hilt, she turned around to offer it to Merrick, and she nearly jumped upon finding him right behind her.

“Thank you.” Merrick’s hand brushed hers as he accepted the sword. “It was my father’s. It’s the only thing I have left of him.”

Lessia gave him a weak smile as she pointed to the dagger with the amber stones. “This was my grandmother’s. My father gave it to me when I turned twelve.”

Merrick nodded. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.”

Lessia’s eyes went to his sword again.

Then to the dagger Merrick had given her that day in the woods.

Her eyes widened.

“But if… if this sword was your father’s… what about the dagger?”

Merrick’s eyes sparked. “It was my mother’s.”

Lessia choked on a breath, and her hand flew to the dagger.

“I am so sorry! Here…” She started pulling it from the scabbard attached to her belt.

“Don’t.” Merrick’s hand wrapped around her own.

“Please,” he added. “It was a gift.”

Lessia was still shaking her head when a loud crash sounded above them.

And when a cry followed it, they all started sprinting toward the stairs.

Merrick first, with Lessia on his heels and Raine and Kerym behind her.

“My magic isn’t fully back, but I can see flickers of minds. There’re a lot of soldiers up there,” Raine hissed when they came to a halt beneath the stairs, their heavy breathing echoing between the stone walls. “As in a lot . And…” He hesitated for a moment, stealing a glance at Merrick before continuing. “The regent is there.”

Lessia’s gaze flew up to the ceiling as she took a calming breath, trying to soothe the pulse thundering through her.

She would do this.

She would.

Determination joined the unease roiling in her gut, and when she met Merrick’s eyes as she tilted her head back down, she nodded once.

“Time to burn,” he whispered.