Page 44 of A Promise so Bold and Broken (Compelling Fates Saga #2)
Chapter Forty-Four
E ach beat of her heart slowed as she stared at her uncle.
The king didn’t seem to notice as he waved toward a guard, whispering something in his ear that had the guard slam his heels together before retreating into the ship’s hull.
“What do you require as proof?” Lessia silently cursed herself when her voice wavered, rising a little too much at the end of her question.
Rioner waved his fingers, and her eyes snapped to her father.
Pulled by the water, he moved forward until he stood beside Rioner at the railing, his eyes desperate as they met hers.
“Alarin, I have use for your special skills.” Rioner flashed his teeth when her father snarled at him. “Now, now. I have the younger one downstairs, and I won’t harm her as long as you… cooperate.”
Lessia huffed a sharp breath. “Careful, uncle. My friends back here are under instructions to show you no mercy should you do something to my family.”
“What a waste of a temper and skill on a halfling,” Rioner mumbled. “You would have done well in my court.”
Lessia was about to respond that he was the one who made the decision to freeze out the half-Fae, but she pressed her lips closed when Rioner continued.
“However, betraying someone when he doesn’t love you anymore is easy. When he’s forced those feelings away… I wonder what happens when he can’t anymore.”
Lessia froze.
And the low gasps behind her, mingling with a low hum from Merrick’s chest, told her the males were as surprised as she was.
They’d thought Rioner might try to test her.
But they’d bet on him forcing one of the Fae to hurt the other. Or perhaps hurt themselves.
But this?
Chuckling, Rioner waved for her father again. “I see this shocks you. But if you’re truly like me, Elessia, then the human’s feelings shouldn’t matter. As I was saying. Alarin, be so kind and give the regent his memories and feelings back, would you?”
Her father threw her a helpless look, and magic tinged the salty air when she only stared back at him.
Lessia couldn’t stop her body from turning around, watching Loche’s eyes glaze—this effect was the one thing her father’s magic and her own had in common—before they returned to shiny dark gray, but filled with…
Pain.
Agony.
Sorrow.
Heartbreak.
That’s what marred the regent’s sharp eyes as they snapped to hers.
And when they traveled to Merrick…
“I will not change my mind.” Lessia spun around, praying that Rioner’s gaze would follow her, not the telling sign of Loche’s grief as he beheld her mate. “He rejected me. He can feel the same—worse—for all I care.”
“Lessia…”
She braced herself when Loche’s uncertain voice drifted her way, and without allowing herself to look at him, keeping her voice as cold as the king’s before her, she ordered, “You know your place, Loche. I am your master now, so… Be. Quiet.”
She nearly winced when her father’s eyes widened, his face blanching as he stared at her.
But if even he believed her…
It was working.
“You have your proof.” Lessia continued in a harsh tone. “Now, where is my sister?”
Rioner dragged a finger over the water rushing around her father, pulling a drop from it and eyeing it before letting it back into the ocean beneath the ships.
“All in good time, Elessia.” His cloak flew out behind him as he began pacing back and forth, the thud of his boots against the wood thrumming through her blood.
“Kerym.” Rioner’s eyes moved behind her. “It’s been a while, friend.”
“We were never friends.”
Lessia stiffened when Kerym spoke, but his composure remained relaxed, his face not betraying the anger she knew simmered beneath the thick leathers he wore.
“I guess you’re right.” The king shrugged. “It was your brother who was always more loyal.”
“Keep Thissian out of this,” Kerym snarled. “I was the one stupid enough to fall into the halfling’s claws. He has nothing to do with this.”
“Oh, and here I thought you liked me,” Lessia made herself purr, even as bile rose in her throat. “Wanted me to warm your bed and all.”
Rioner’s eyes flashed when they darted her way before he caught himself, and she could tell the grin spreading across his face wasn’t forced.
“I’m sure the Death Whisperer loved that.” Rioner laughed darkly. “Seems you also inherited my fondness of sweet torture, niece.”
She couldn’t help it.
Her eyes sliced to Merrick.
You and me.
The words struck something within her.
Something she hadn’t seen before.
Or perhaps hadn’t been looking for…
Almost tangible, like a tether, something within her whispered the words back to him.
You and me.
And she could feel it.
Could feel Merrick’s love for her as if it were the air traveling into her lungs.
She had to stop herself from smiling when the warmth bolted up her spine, and from the muscle working in his jaw, she suspected he was doing the same.
But then Kerym growled, and Lessia’s head snapped forward, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at a Fae being dragged toward the railing by the guard Rioner had sent away before.
A Fae who looked like the reflection of the one beside her.
He was identical to Kerym, only…
Bruises painted almost every inch of his face purple and blue, and from the curved back she glimpsed within a water cage like her father’s, she could tell he was in great pain.
So could Kerym.
“Kerym, don’t.” The words spilled out of her mouth, but it didn’t matter.
Kerym flew forward, jumping over the railing onto the black ship.
As snarls burst through the air and Merrick and Raine left their spots behind her, Rioner caught him in a stream of water, angry blisters rippling across every inch of Kerym’s skin as he fought against it.
But it proved useless.
Kerym sank to his knees a few feet from Thissian’s cage, his chest heaving as he called out for his brother—the brother who didn’t react, didn’t even raise his hanging head, as if the pain was too great—as if the shame was too much.
Tearing her eyes from the horrible sight, she stared at the king again, and her stomach sank at the smug expression on his face.
He’d heard her command.
And he’d realized Kerym had ignored it.
“Elessia,” Rioner tsked as she scrambled forward, racking her brain for what to do—how to help. “I had my doubts as soon as I saw these males behind you, but I certainly thought you would put up a bit better of a fight.” He shook his head. “Guess I was right about you halflings all along. Useless, spineless, waste-of-space creatures.”
Her growl was muffled by the snarls escaping Merrick and her father.
Even Raine bared his teeth, his body vibrating from the rumble that racked it.
“Do not speak to her like that,” Merrick snarled, his voice so defiant she was surprised Rioner didn’t take a step back.
“You’re giving me orders now, Death Whisperer?”
She wanted to slam her fist into the king’s smug face.
Wipe that fucking smirk off it, especially when he grinned at her mate.
But Merrick didn’t bother responding.
Instead, he walked backward until he stood beside her, his hand sliding into hers, squeezing it and sending waves of warmth through her.
Determination.
Courage.
Love.
We fight.
To the end, she wanted to tell him.
She’d fight for him to the end.
Water splashed up the ship’s sides as Rioner let out another hollow laugh. “I am going to make you watch, Merrick. My men have missed playing with her since she left my dungeons… I think I shall create a special cell. Where you can see her—hear her screams—but never again reach her.”
“You will not touch her.” Loche walked up to her other side as Merrick snarled viciously, the air around them heating with rage. “It’s time for your rule to end, king. And I shall watch as she climbs your throne and changes Vastala into the great realm it always had the potential to be.”
The world seemed to still when Merrick and Loche stepped up to shield her.
Two males—one Fae and one human—standing shoulder to shoulder to protect her.
“No,” she whispered.
But it was too late.
Rioner’s gaze widened.
“You,” he whispered.
Her eyes snapped to Loche’s rounded ones when he turned his head.
Then to Merrick’s consuming darkness, the never-ending fall that was the night swirling within them.
She barely heard Merrick’s violent curse as Loche spun around and crashed his lips against hers, the kiss so urgent he drew blood as their teeth slammed together.
“Take it,” he urged into her mouth as she felt him press something warm into her hand.
Then chaos erupted.
Her hand was ripped from Merrick’s, her lips from Loche’s.
A blistering pain shot up her arm, and whatever Loche had given her vanished.
Water invaded her lungs as she screamed.
Filling them, the icy gushes stole her breath away until darkness pressed all around her.
Until it swallowed her whole.
Until she slipped into unconsciousness, clinging to the only words she remembered.
You and me.