Page 8 of A Promise so Bold and Broken (Compelling Fates Saga #2)

Chapter Eight

L essia stared up at the ceiling of her small bedroom.

The moon cast silvery shadows that danced across the thin wooden beams, tangling with the firelight that reflected from the small lantern she’d placed on the floor.

The group had finished their drinks in silence after the decision to reach out to her father, and the liquor must have been strong because Venko first, then Ardow, fell asleep on the couch, their snores echoing through the living room.

A trail of drool twisted down Ardow’s chin by the time Lessia quietly bid Merrick and Raine goodnight, and she’d hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should try to help him to bed.

Then she’d thought better of it.

Perhaps waking up stiff from the uncomfortable sleeping position and with what she expected to be a violent liquor sickness would shake some sense into him.

She couldn’t understand why he wanted to return to the rebels so badly.

Ardow had never been violent.

From the moment she’d met him, she’d trusted him because of his gentle nature.

Even being part-Fae, he didn’t have the temper she sometimes struggled so hard to rein in herself.

Dragging her hands down her face, she groaned.

She should have accepted the cup Raine had offered her.

There was no way she’d be able to sleep.

Not with all the thoughts that vied for dominance in her mind.

How her father would react when he found out.

How they’d get back to Ellow.

How they’d get Loche to see their side.

How she’d get the children to safety once more.

She held back another groan, wishing she could drag the worries from her mind as easily as she could pull at the blanket lying across her legs.

Lessia listened to the quiet house, and when no voices floated over the soft breathing and the wind tapping the windows, she sat up and pushed the cover off.

After picking up the lantern, she tiptoed to the door and eased it open.

The house was dim, and only the moon shone on Venko and Ardow, who still half sat and half lay on the couch.

But to the left, soft light flickered out of a cracked door.

Making her way over, she made sure her steps remained silent, having no energy to deal with the two men she could barely look at without rage fluttering inside her.

Not that she had the energy to deal with the other two males either.

Raine was nothing like she’d expected.

She wasn’t sure what she’d hoped for when Merrick suggested they go here, but a barely functioning drunkard wasn’t it.

And Merrick infuriated her to no end.

The grumpiness she’d gotten used to…

But she couldn’t read him.

Didn’t understand why he pushed her, then growled at her, his moods shifting within seconds.

Damned broody males.

A frustrated sigh escaped her as she slipped into the lit room.

It appeared to be some type of office.

A large wooden desk stood before a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, with a square window to the right and more shelves lining the wall to the left.

Lessia shook her head at the half-empty bottles littering the racks as her bare feet sunk into a plush carpet.

She was no stranger to heartbreak.

She hadn’t even been sure whether she had any pieces left to shatter after everything.

After her sister.

After the years in the king’s cellar.

After having to keep it together for the broken souls she’d brought over from Vastala.

But after that last day with Loche…

A choked sound traveled up her throat as the memories invaded her mind.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to push his betrayed face back into the dark abyss where she preferred to keep painful experiences locked up.

But it was pointless.

Her shoulders hunched at the shame that tore through her as she thought of what she’d done to him.

To them.

“He doesn’t deserve your guilt.”

Heart flying into her throat, she spun around.

Raine leaned against the windowsill, his eyes still dimmed but his back surprisingly straight as he sized her up.

“Get out of my head,” she hissed.

“I’m not in your head.” A corner of Raine’s mouth lifted. “Right now.”

She gritted her teeth as she turned back toward the shelf, eyeing the objects lying there so as not to have to look at the Fae behind her.

A beautiful dagger, curved and jagged in the same way Raine’s swords were, lay in an intricately decorated mount, and she trailed her finger over the sharp edge.

“That was my mating gift to Solana.”

She winced at the grief that laced every word of Raine’s quiet declaration.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

Turning around again, she leaned against the shelf, careful not to shift any other strange artifacts—a few crystals, shells, and other things of which she had no idea what they were.

“I heard she died. I’m sorry,” Lessia said softly.

Raine’s eyes snapped to the floor, his shoulders tensing. “She was killed.”

Lessia remained quiet when Raine’s mouth opened and closed a few times, her chest aching at the agony playing across his features.

Loche hadn’t even been her mate, and she could barely hear his name without wanting to fall into a heap on the floor.

She couldn’t imagine the excruciating pain Raine must be in.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again when the silence became too loaded, the air so thick from sorrow she struggled to draw it into her lungs.

“She’d have liked you, I think.” Raine walked up to the chair, sat down, and poured himself another glass. “She always fought for what she believed was right too.”

Lessia’s eyes trailed his hand as it shakily set down the flask on the desk, where stains, probably from the contents of the many bottles in the room, marred the beautifully carved wood.

“I saw what he did to you.”

Her eyes flew to Raine’s, and she couldn’t stop herself from flinching, her arms wrapping around herself to keep whatever pieces were left together.

Raine shook his head as he observed her.

“So broken,” he whispered before swallowing more of the liquid, a drop trickling down into his unkempt stubble. “You won’t always be, though. Not like me…”

Lessia frowned as she hugged herself tighter.

She wasn’t so sure of that.

Every breath she’d drawn since that last night in Ellow felt as if it might be her last.

Not just because of Loche.

While what happened between them had nearly killed her, there were so many others she needed to do right by.

So much damn guilt to live with.

Rubbing his eyes, Raine continued. “When Solana died, so did I. I’m merely a wraith in Fae form at this point. But you kept moving—kept walking. I saw how you saved Merrick and your friends. You didn’t give up. You haven’t given up.”

“I had no choice,” Lessia responded quietly.

Raine’s head jerked up. “Of course you had a choice. Everything you’ve done in your young life has been the result of a choice, whether you believe it or not. I can see you think all things merely happened to you, but each heartbreak, every moment of pain, of happiness, of love, happened because of the paths you chose.”

Tears burned behind her eyes. “I guess I chose all the wrong ones, then.”

Raine slammed a hand against the desk. “There are no wrong paths! Dark ones, sure. I nearly drove myself mad thinking about the choices that led to Solana’s death. But if I hadn’t chosen them, I wouldn’t have met her in the first place.”

“Was it worth it? Meeting her just to lose her?”

When Raine remained quiet, Lessia wondered if she’d gone too far, but then he cleared his throat, tears glistening in his own eyes. “I will never regret meeting her. Not for all the pain in the world.”

Lessia nodded, her eyes fixed on the carpet.

His words sounded so similar to the ones Amalise once had spoken about her lost love, pain emphasizing every letter.

She heard Raine lift the bottle yet again, the splash of more liquor hitting the glass.

“I wanted to thank you.”

She whipped her head up at Raine’s words.

Her forehead creased. “For what?”

“For saving Merrick.” Raine took another sip. “I wasn’t strong enough. Not after Solana.”

Shrugging, she kept Raine’s gaze. “He saved me too. Several times.”

A sad smile pulled at Raine’s lips. “Sounds like Merrick. Ever the martyr.”

“What do you mean?”

Raine leaned back in the chair, the low scrape of the legs dragging against wood reverberating through the room. “He swore that blood oath because of me. Well, me, Thissian, and Kerym.”

Her brows knitted. “They are the other two in your brotherhood?”

A raspy laugh left Raine. “Brotherhood?”

He shook his head before she could respond. “I guess you can call it that. And yes. We fought together for centuries. Grew up together. Bastards all of us, so we were raised in a soldiers’ camp. Probably for the best—we all harbored so much anger and resentment, so letting it out on the battlefield helped.”

“I didn’t know,” Lessia mumbled, her aching chest hollowing further when she thought of a young Merrick, the one with the face she’d seen when he’d slept after the attack.

He’d seemed so peaceful then.

But hearing this, she wondered if he’d ever seen peace.

She at least had years of a loving family, a warm home and bed, and as much safety as her father could muster while trying to keep them out of Rioner’s claws.

“I’m not surprised,” Raine said. “Merrick isn’t one for small talk.”

Despite everything, she giggled softly. “You don’t say.”

Raine’s lips curled further. “He doesn’t pity himself, even when he should.”

“What happened to him?” Lessia asked, even though she was still unsure whether she really wanted to know.

Whether she could handle more devastating information.

Raine’s smile fell. “The damned king, of course. We’d fought for Rioner’s father for decades when he realized how strong we were. He started paying more attention to us. At first, we relished it. He made each of us commanders—let us roam as we pleased as long as we came when he called. But then he passed on the crown to his oldest son, and Rioner wasn’t as… trusting.”

Goose bumps peppered her arms when Raine’s eyes darkened.

“He wanted something on us to ensure we’d never go against him. I’d found Solana by then, and Thissian and Kerym had also met their mates. Rioner took them from us. Kept them locked in that castle of his for us to pay off the debt he believed we owned the crown, for ensuring we had a roof over our heads growing up.”

Raine’s teeth slammed together. “We got worse at fighting after that. Nearly died several times because we couldn’t focus when worrying about them. Merrick, being the fucking idiot he is, couldn’t stand it, so he took it upon himself to try to set them free. He swore that damn blood oath right in front of us for Rioner to release them.”

A growl rumbled through the room. “Rioner couldn’t resist having the Death Whisperer at his beck and call. The strongest Fae in Havlands bound to him?”

A bitter scoff escaped Raine. “He kept his promise of setting them free, only to hunt us all down a few days later… He doesn’t take well to anyone turning their back on him. So Solana and Thissian’s and Kerym’s mates paid the ultimate price.”

Tears spilled down Lessia’s cheeks when Raine’s hand pressed against his chest, his eyes fixing on the swirling liquor in the glass in his hand.

Not just for Solana and the others who’d died.

But for Merrick, who’d sacrificed everything.

And for what?

“He blames himself, you know,” Raine got out in a thick voice. “Even though none of us do. He believes he is as evil as the stories about him. That he’s cursed. I think a small part of him was relieved to swear that blood oath—that he had a reason to keep everyone at arm’s length. Live up to the reputation of the Death Whisperer.”

“Wh-why would he ever think that?” Lessia stuttered.

Raine tilted his head. “Do you know what his magic truly is?”

She shook her head.

“While a vile name, the Death Whisperer rings true. Those whispers you hear? It’s your mind opening up to the other side. It’s the souls of those who passed before you speaking while they prepare to bring you over—to claim you as one of their own.”

Lessia’s brows knitted. “B-but that’s not possible.”

“And why is that?”

“Because…”

It couldn’t be possible.

Could it?

“Because he is a mental Fae, is he not? I’ve never heard of such a power.”

A wry twist tugged at Raine’s lips. “Isn’t the world how we perceive it? Isn’t the world how we think and process and imagine? Isn’t it our mind that shapes us, directs us, guides us toward our fates? Why wouldn’t the afterlife be the same?”

Dread chilled her bones—like an icy wind sweeping through the room.

But not for fear of Merrick.

No.

For the fear of what he thought of himself.

She knew what it was like to hate her magic, believe she’d been gifted it because she was inherently evil.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t question mine for a long time. Truth be told, I still question it.

That’s what Merrick had said to her on the ship.

Raine stretched his hands over his head and sighed. “Well, this was a tad heavy for a late-night conversation. I shall try to get my hour of sleep. You should probably do so as well. I heard Merrick muttering something about training in the morning before he went upstairs.”

When Lessia nodded, Raine rose from the chair, and she followed him out of the room.

Venko and Ardow still snored on the couch, and with a final glance at them, she slipped into her brightly lit room.

Her brows snapped together when she glanced around, finding lanterns placed every few feet of the short walls, and two in the windowsill.

She strained her ears, but she couldn’t hear anything besides Raine’s thudding footsteps as he stomped around the room next to hers.

Releasing a deep breath, she slipped into the bed.

He might wield death magic, but Merrick was no Death Whisperer.

He wasn’t evil.

And if he wasn’t…

Perhaps neither was she.