Page 42 of A Promise so Bold and Broken (Compelling Fates Saga #2)

Chapter Forty-Two

T he ship rocked back and forth as one of Loche’s guards—the only one he’d decided to bring—steered it between the narrow dark cliffs on the outskirts of Asker, and Lessia clasped the railing harder, savoring the cool drops peppering her face from the wind whipping around the ship.

They hadn’t dared take one of the larger ships in the harbor—not with Loche and her traveling together, at the risk of people seeing them—so they’d taken one of the older warships that Loche kept for missions he needed to undertake without the townsfolk’s knowledge, one he kept hidden an hour’s ride from the capital.

But Lessia didn’t mind.

While old, it was beautiful, carved from the oaks that used to stand proud on every isle in Ellow but which now had only started to regrow, as so many of the trees had been destroyed in the latest war.

The sail was plain buff, not the usual Ellow sails—the white with an embroidered crest, either that of the large circle and the thousand smaller ones around it, the symbol of Ellow, or the crest of one of the noble families, as they typically funded the creation of the ships to protect their islands.

Should someone spot them, they’d probably assume it was a merchant ship, as that’s what most of the old warships were used as nowadays.

As long as they didn’t travel too close, that was, of course.

The Fae warriors hadn’t bothered with their glamours out here at sea.

Lessia tried not to wonder whether those ships would soon have to be put to their old use, forced to brave the storming seas where waves would once again be tainted red from the blood spilled on either side.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t get to that.

Hopefully, they could quell the rebellion and come up with a plan to stop the Oakgards’ Fae invasion.

Hopefully, no more innocent blood would be spilled.

After all, the curse had mentioned a new world.

A world she’d dreamed of.

A world she’d wept for.

A world she’d fought for.

Lessia looked down at the wild sea.

It would be worth it.

Even if she wouldn’t be there to see it, it would be worth it.

Unsheathing her daggers, she crossed them over the railing like they’d been crossed in the book, her eyes resting on the glittering gemstones adorning each hilt.

Surrendering it all, they will choose to perish with them.

That’s what the scribbles had stated.

She almost scoffed.

Choice…

As if she had one.

As if the gods had ever given her one.

The sound of swords clinking against each other mingled with the rushing waters beneath her, and the eerie melody rattled her bones.

Fate.

She knew she should be grateful for it.

It had brought her Merrick, after all.

Had offered her a soulmate.

But like all the others on this ship, his and her fate was cruel.

Twisted.

Devastating.

But…

Perhaps perish didn’t have to mean death.

Although… from what she knew of the wicked gods, it surely did.

Her teeth slammed together.

Fuck fate.

That’s what she’d said when Meyah kidnapped Frelina.

Wrath traveled over her skin.

She was so damned tired of being controlled.

If it wasn’t the leaders of the realm, it was the gods.

Lessia let out a trembling breath when she sensed Merrick somewhere behind her.

Blinking rapidly, she pushed the rage and dread deep down inside her, grateful for the practice she’d had over the years of doing the same whenever thoughts of her sister or parents—or her time in Vastala, for that matter—decided to surface.

A forced smile lifted her lips when she glanced up at the Fae as he took a spot beside her, but it quickly slipped when Merrick’s brows quirked, his eyes catching the slight wobble of her bottom lip before she could get ahold of it.

“I know you’re keeping something locked up within you, and I won’t push you… but Lessia, I’m here. I’m with you. I’m always with you.” Merrick’s gaze drifted out toward the sea, and as she followed it, she realized they were facing east, the way Amalise and the others would hopefully soon come.

Loche had informed their friends of what was happening—at least as much as he could in writing—and when Raine had sent his eagle to the area surrounding the cave, it had reported activity, a ship being boarded by several people.

They’d left early, driven by the hope that they’d be able to strategize with the group before Rioner’s arrival.

It would be quite helpful to have the backup should this go sideways…

Especially since the Fae warriors and her magic had yet to return.

“Do you think they’ll arrive in time?” Her eyes returned to her daggers, remaining slightly averted, as she didn’t trust the tears that stung her eyes.

The heat of Merrick’s gaze told her his eyes followed her own, and she didn’t pull away when he moved to stand behind her, leaning his chin on her shoulder and caging her in with his arms. “I don’t know.”

She nodded.

Others might be annoyed with Merrick for his unforgiving truthfulness.

But she loved him for it.

He wasn’t one to offer false hope, so when he told her she was strong enough or pushed her to train harder, she knew it was because he believed in her.

Believed she could do what she’d set out to do.

Lessia’s grip on the daggers tightened.

“We stick to the plan either way.” Merrick’s voice lowered, his stubble scraping against her cheek as he spoke. “Rioner doesn’t know about you, and you know how to put on an act. I watched you all those years… No one could tell the weight you carried so bravely.”

“But what… what if I fail?” She kept her eyes forward, hating herself for the quiver that worked its way into her question.

But what if she did?

It wasn’t just her sister and father on the line…

It was all Ellow.

Perhaps even all Havlands.

“Then we fight.” Merrick clasped her closer to his chest. “You can handle yourself, and besides… I will not leave your side.”

Then we fight.

She’d known this day might come.

Where the work Merrick had put into making sure she could protect herself might have to be put to use.

And while she knew she’d gotten better…

She hated it.

Hated the violence.

Hated to know that she might have to kill for the chance to survive.

Hated that that’s what this world—her world—forced her to do.

As her eyes fell on her hands again, she was surprised the fingers clenched around the shafts of the daggers weren’t shaking but… steady.

They weren’t even white from holding on too hard.

Perhaps…

Perhaps she was ready after all.

“I never thanked you enough for giving me this dagger.” The smile she threw Merrick as she spun around to face him came easier. “It’s… it’s beautiful.”

Merrick’s lips curled, a half smile playing across his face as his hand brushed the hilt of his sword. “Like you. That’s why I gave it to you.”

As she stuffed both the daggers into their sheaths, her brows crashed.

“This was a mating gift, wasn’t it?”

The corners of Merrick’s lips lifted higher. “It was.”

“But…”

Merrick wrapped his arms around her again, leaning his hands on the railings as he kissed her, softly this time—with no urgency, as if they had all the time in the world. “No but.”

Well, damn.

She hadn’t given him anything.

“You have given me everything.” Merrick leaned his forehead against her own, his eyes refusing to let hers break away. “Everything, Elessia. If I die tonight, I’ll do so having everything I ever asked for and many things I never thought to.”

Her throat constricted at the raw emotion in Merrick’s eyes, at the slight tremor of his voice as he yet again whispered “You’ve given me everything,” and she was just about to respond when an apologetic voice broke in.

“I am so sorry, but we have a slight issue.” A mixture of amusement and concern filled Raine’s voice as he spoke behind them.

“Damn it, Raine,” Merrick rasped, a sharp edge carving around his words that Lessia couldn’t help but agree with.

Did he always have to interrupt?

As he spun around, he kept an arm around her, and they both stared at the three males approaching them.

Raine kept his eyes everywhere but on Lessia’s.

Kerym grinned at her, and for some reason, she didn’t like the male’s smile at all.

Loche’s expression was even worse.

Walking a few steps behind them, he looked as if he were on his way to his execution, wide eyes fixed on his feet and shoulders slumping.

“What issue?” Lessia asked, the worry tightening the males’ eyes rushing into her own body.

Kerym’s gaze slowly slid over the arm Merrick kept around her waist, his look pointed when she stepped closer to Merrick, wrangling her arm around his back.

“Fuck,” Merrick snarled beside her, and her brows snapped up when he stepped away from her.

Lessia attempted to follow, her brows flying even higher when he held up a hand to stop her, such a thunderous expression on his face it didn’t take much for her to falter.

“What is going on?” Her head whipped back and forth between Merrick and the others until her gaze snagged on Raine’s flared nostrils.

Oh.

Lifting the collar of her jacket to her nose, she breathed in.

Merrick’s scent was so strong that she almost swayed.

Her body reacted instantly, and that heat—that overwhelming heat—licked her veins.

“Your continuing to react like that will also be a problem,” Kerym laughed, and she couldn’t stop the warmth traveling up her neck, spreading across her face like wildfire. “Although I guess we can’t blame you, since it’s barely been a day.”

“Kerym.” Merrick’s warning growl was so cold even Kerym’s smile fell off his face.

“He’s right, though.” Raine approached them, his large body tenser than Lessia had ever seen. “If Rioner gets one whiff of her, he’ll realize what you’ve been up to… And while we might get him to believe Lessia is the one controlling us—emphasis on the might —from what I’ve seen in her mind from their last interaction, he will not believe her to be so wicked that she used magic to compel you to share a bed with her.”

Lessia wished the heat crawling over her skin might melt her into a puddle so she could disappear between the planks beneath her feet.

“He definitely will not.” Loche also drew closer, even though his eyes still wouldn’t meet hers. “And he will also begin to question the assumption that I’m the one to take him down if the… halfling”—Loche appeared to force the word out—“isn’t in love with me anymore.”

“No,” Merrick snarled as he stepped toward the regent. “You won’t go near her.”

“I forgot how possessive you become.” Raine shot her a sorrowful smile. “I’m honestly surprised the regent is still alive.”

“Merrick!” The sound of Kerym slamming into Merrick danced across the sea, and Lessia watched with wide eyes as the former tackled him to the floor, vicious snarls ripping from their throats as they each got hits in.

“M— Fuck!” Kerym panted. “You k-know we…”

“No! He. Won’t. Touch. Her.”

Kerym crashed into the floor as Merrick overpowered him, blood trickling from his nose as he glowered at the feral silver-haired Fae.

“You know we’re right,” he wheezed as Merrick lifted a hand again, his other wrapping around Kerym’s throat.

“You do,” Raine echoed. “It’s for her safety.”

Merrick’s chest heaved, his face a shade darker than she was used to, as his eyes moved from Kerym to Raine and finally to her.

When she felt her face fall, his teeth slammed together, but he finally dropped the fist angled to Kerym’s face.

“Fuck. Fine!” Refusing the hand Raine offered him, Merrick jumped to his feet, and with a flick of his hair, he stalked away.

Lessia was certain he’d go somewhere—anywhere else on the ship—not to have to watch, so when he stopped after only a few feet, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the railing, apprehension layered over her like a shadow.

She didn’t want to put him through this again.

Every nerve within her began firing, wanting to argue, to run, to do anything else.

But as she glanced at the horizon, noting how the sun had already begun its descent, its pink-and-orange light mingling with the blue of the sea, she realized there wasn’t time to come up with another solution.

It felt as if a cloud drew in when she sought Merrick’s eyes again, as if every feature of his face darkened when pain sparked to life in his gaze, and despite the jacket she wore, she shuddered as if the chill wind brushed bare skin.

“I’ll go first,” Raine muttered.

“I’m sorry.” Lessia continued to hold Merrick’s gaze as Raine approached her.

Merrick shook his head, but when he tried to pull his eyes away, she wouldn’t let him.

You and me.

They were the only words allowed in her thoughts when Raine wrapped his arms around her—as unwillingly as she felt—and rubbed his hands down her arms.

You and me.

Moving them to her face, Raine hissed, “Should have had another damned drink first,” and she couldn’t help but snort when he dragged his fingers down her cheeks.

Merrick’s mouth quirked—as if it needed to mirror hers.

She had to admit… it was the tiniest bit funny how disgusted Raine looked when he pulled her into a hug, his cheek sliding against hers as he fought a recoil.

“Done,” Raine exclaimed, moving away from her so swiftly she might have been offended had the situation been different.

“My turn, Golden Eyes.” Kerym wiggled his brows, ignoring the rumble in Merrick’s chest as he swept her off her feet, cradling her like a babe and nuzzling his nose against her neck.

“Whew, you really smell like Merrick.” Kerym winked at her. “Must have been some trip to your house.”

“Kerym,” she hissed between her teeth. “Set me down.”

“Or what?” Kerym spun around with her still in his arms, his face coming so close she wondered if she’d have to slap him.

“Don’t worry.” He grinned at her, a wild, reckless edge to the smile. “Merrick would throw me off the boat if I kissed you.”

She wrinkled her nose when he breathed onto her skin instead of kissing her, the hot air layering like a gentle mist across her neck.

Kerym chuckled darkly once he finally set her down. “You know females usually react very well to me being close to them.”

“I’m sure,” Lessia muttered, her muscles locking, knowing what was next.

Slow footsteps reached her ears, and this time, when she tried to find Merrick’s eyes, she couldn’t.

His face was bent down, the lines so hard she hoped he wouldn’t chip one of those sharp canines, pressing his jaw together.

She had to look away.

Seeing him like this was too much.

Too similar to those months during the election.

Too painful now that she knew the hatred tugging at his features wasn’t because of her…

But because he couldn’t be with her.

“Please know this brings me no joy.” Loche’s low voice reached her ears as she sensed him hovering behind her.

“I know.” Lessia nodded as she made herself turn around.

With her hands clenched by her sides, she stepped into Loche’s already open arms, swallowing when his familiar scent wrapped around her.

She couldn’t stop her heart from leaping when he crushed her against his chest—not because of the memories of when he’d last held her like this but because of the shuddered sigh leaving him, the slight twitch of his chest and the ember of sorrow lacing his wintery smell.

And when his chest jerked again, her arms snaked around his waist, and she hugged him back—holding him as he fought the shakes racking his body and closing her eyes when a near-silent sob, one that even the Fae around them wouldn’t pick up, escaped his lips.

They clung to each other as the words they hadn’t had time to speak, that might never leave their lips but were thought all the same—the sorrow, the guilt, the grief, the friendship, the understanding—the bond they’d always share softening until the sharp edges that had jabbed at them rounded.

Until Loche’s back straightened and the pit in her gut sewed itself together.

When they pulled back, Lessia didn’t fear meeting his eyes.

She was right.

The grays burned with the same sharpness they always did, but the smirk on his face wasn’t that of protection—of masking the emotions he harbored inside—but of challenge, of playfulness.

Loche raised his brows as he gently nudged her into a hard chest that she, without looking back, knew belonged to Merrick. “Looks like Rioner is early as well.”

Lessia peeked over his shoulder, and sure enough, a large ship had just emerged from the depths of the ocean from one of the tunnels she’d heard Rioner could conjure—allowing the ship he sailed on to travel in hours what took other ships weeks.

Loche’s smirk broadened when her eyes flicked back to his. “Get that mask of yours ready, little liar.”

Lessia bowed her head as she gave him a final look.

Then she turned to Merrick, and she wished she could freeze time just then because the love that shone in the Death Whisperer’s eyes knocked every sense out of her.

Brushing her fingers against his, she molded her features into the disguise she needed to wear tonight.

A smug smirk curling her lips.

Hard eyes staring unseeing out over the wild sea.

A lifted chin and lowered shoulders with a back so straight a soldier would have been envious.

A ruthless leader seeking only power.

A mirror version of the uncle standing in the bow of the ship opposite them, his elaborately decorated cloak billowing behind him and that crown she’d once snorted at glittering atop his head.