Page 116 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile
The silence that followed was worse than the sword that ripped into Loche’s arm at that second, worse than the fire rushing through the wound, worse than the horrible truths his mother had told him.
Fuck, fighting blind wasn’t any fun. Loche groaned as he tried to parry the blows, listening for the rush of wind that should betray them, but it never came.
More slashes did, though, coming from different directions—ones he could never anticipate.
Loche cursed again as he realized whoever he was fighting was playing with him.
“Coward,” he hissed as another slice dragged across his side, ripping his skin apart.
It didn’t cut deep, only fucking teased him.
“That’s no way to speak to your mother,” Meyah purred.
“You…” Loche felt Soria press against him, and he pushed back, refusing to let her get into harm’s way. “You seem to have many names. Meyah. Mother. Whore. Eliana… wasn’t that what you… you told me your name was?” He panted as another of his mother’s strikes bit into his skin, this time in his shoulder and deeper than the others.
Maybe she took offense at being called Eliana.
Or perhaps it wasMotherthat was the problem…
Loche laughed when she struck him again.
A hollow, brittle, stupid laugh.
He’d fucking die here.
Blind. Helpless. Useless.
By his mother’s hand, like he’d always feared growing up, when she’d been bigger than him.
When she’d been stronger—meaner.
When her punches left him with broken cheekbones and ribs.
When she let him starve until stars flickered before his eyes.
He laughed again as a sword slashed across his chest and hot blood trickled down inside his jacket.
“We… we’ve truly come full… full circle,” Loche got out as he refused to let his hand move to his chest—to press against the wound that must be deeper than the rest, based on how quicklyit drained his energy. “I… I just don’t get why you didn’t kill me back then. Why… why wait until now?”
“This is more fun, isn’t it?” his mother chirped, amusement curving every letter.
The arm holding up his sword slackened at the sound.
She wasenjoyingthis. Would enjoy killing him. Would surely brag about it after.
How she’d steered his entire life—the regent of fucking Ellow—only to kill him on a ship in the Eiatis Sea.
“No,” Soria hissed against his back when it curved. “You do not get to give up, regent. You do not.”
He could tell she was out of breath even if her words were sharp, and he wanted to ask her what the fucking point was.
Why couldn’t he give up?
The rebels wouldn’t back down. His people would suffer. Die.
So would his friends.
Lessia wouldn’t survive this.
