Page 140 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile
Pushing his chair in, he looked around the room. At his friends. At the Fae warriors. At the Faelings, shying away from Ledger, who still kept his chin raised, although Loche could tell his small hands shook even if he tried to hide them behind his back.
“He’s right.” Loche forced himself not to swallow in the silence. “Ledger here is right. I didn’t do anything for you. It wasn’t until Lessia opened my eyes that I understood what was happening right under my nose.” He rested his hands on the back of the chair. “I’ve made many, many mistakes in the past years. With my people… with my friends. With those I love.”
Loche paused for a second, making sure he was certain of what he was planning to say next.
There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation within him.
“That’s why I will step down as regent after this war. Ellow needs to heal. Our people need to heal. And we need a fresh start for that. I claimed this seat unjustly, and… I risked everything… I…”
“Loche,” Zaddock pleaded. “This isn’t necessary. We need you. Ellow needs you.”
“But it is.” Loche couldn’t not swallow then, his throat itching for some reason. “I love Ellow. So much. But that’s why I need to do this.”
“No,” Pellie broke in, a serene smile softening her features. “But the fact that you’re willing to do it proves that you’re what Ellow needs.”
Loche began shaking his head, but Pellie continued, her long hair swishing over her shoulder as she turned more toward him. “We all make mistakes, regent. It’s what we do after that counts.”
Pellie shot a quick look at her sister before finding Loche’s eyes once more. “We’ve seen you hurt for Lessia, but you still stand behind her, broken heart and all. We’ve seen you being lied to, deceived, and tricked, but you still believe in a different world. We’ve seen you care—care more than we think the cold, lethal Loche ever wanted anyone to know he could—for your people, your friends, even the Fae. That’s why your people will need you more than ever when this is over.” Her smile grew wider. “That’s why we believe in you.”
Loche just stared at her; then a rough voice broke in.
“Who are you, woman?” Kerym seemed almost mesmerized, his blues shining when Pellie turned back toward him.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Pellie teased, her hand touching his cheek briefly. “When it’s time.”
The Fae warrior blushed. Crimson bloomed across his sharp cheekbones, his eyes widening as they followed the hand Pellie placed back in her lap, and Loche realized he wasn’t the only one who was openly gawking when a raspy laugh rang behind him.
“I don’t care who or what you are, but the fact that you made my crude brother blush…” Thissian had to gasp for air. “That… I’ll always love you for.”
Thissian’s laughter broke the suffocating tension, and conversations began around the room again, plates being handed out by Geyia and Steiner, and even those gray eyes that had been locked on him left to focus on the bowls of soup being pressed into the Faelings’ hands.
Loche accidentally met Thissian’s eyes as he waved Geyia away, wanting her to give the others food first, and he couldn’t help but notice how the blue eyes were so similar to his brother’s but darker, harder, as if they carried so much more pain.
He almost missed it when the Fae inclined his head.
“She’s right, you know.” Thissian’s legs shook when he used the wall to get up from his seated position and started toward the door.
Loche found himself following him, and in a comfortable silence, they ascended the stairs to the deck, where a cool breeze had Loche grateful for the jacket he wore. They crossed the deck until Thissian folded his legs over the railing and sat on it, letting his feet dangle over the frothing sea beneath.
Mirroring his position, Loche swung his own legs over, letting the sense of his gut churning wash across the lingering sorrow he hadn’t been able to shake after the meeting with his mother.
“Sheisright,” Thissian said again. “You are a good man, regent.”
Loche scoffed, his eyes on the darkening horizon where only a few orange flames licked the sea.
“You might not believe it, but everyone else does.” Thissian sighed, the rush of air sounding similar to the wind ripping into Loche’s jacket.
“I feel your pain, you know. I might not be an empath like the white-haired Faeling girl, but even I can taste it. Kerym can too.”
Loche sneaked a look at the Fae, but his eyes were forward, almost unseeingly staring out into the evening light.
“I’m fine,” Loche muttered when Thissian said nothing else.
“I’m sure you are. But it’s also all right not to be,” the warrior responded. “You’re lucky humans don’t have mates. It would be worse. Much worse.”
Loche filled his lungs with salty air. “Was it… was it hard for him?” he asked.
Thissian turned his way, and Loche met his eyes as a sad smile curved the Fae’s mouth.
