Page 151 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile
He’d watched Merrick, Raine, and Ardow riding off on it last time, but seeing Lessia do the same…
He shook his head. It seemed insane.
And dangerous.
Loche squinted against the setting sun, which made the four figures in the bow of Rioner’s ship look like dark shadows staring back at him. Dark shadows who stood shoulder to shoulder, ready to protect each other at any hint of a threat.
The regent didn’t need to cast his gaze around to realize why Lessia and the rest seemed so tense. He could feel the eyes of his people tracking not only the ship approaching them but also him, their regent, always monitoring, shadowing, and evaluating his every movement.
Loche let out a weary breath.
These people weren’t even the worst of them.
His men had struggled to get the noble families to agree to come to this place—to leave the safety of their castles and mansions. In the end, only five had shown up, with the otherssending the people in their employ while they stayed back like the cowards they were.
As if anyone would be safe…
Loche scoffed so loudly that Zaddock and some of his other closest men turned toward him.
Their masks shone like polished leather as the sun reflected on them when Loche jerked his head dismissively, and they turned to face straight ahead again.
He’d told them the masks weren’t needed anymore, but his men had opted for them anyway. And why not? They were terrifying. It was why he had chosen them, after all.
Maybe they’d give their enemies a second’s pause, and a second was all that his men needed to stay alive.
They were long, silent moments before Lessia’s ship finally dropped its sails and Raine steered it around so it sidled up beside his own, facing south—the direction from which they expected both the rebels and Rioner and his Fae to come.
Loche’s men reacted instantly when he raised his hand, and without Loche having to call out orders, they caught the ropes Merrick threw out, tying their ships together with knots that would be easy to undo should the ships need to flee or separate in the fighting to come.
They’d practiced these knots in the navy, but somehow Loche had never expected the need for them to appear.
Yet here they were.
Lessia was the first to step onto their ship, using her hands, which Loche was happy to see seemed healed, to swing herself onto the deck. He watched her eye his men for a moment, something he couldn’t quite read crossing her features, before she turned toward him, a hesitant smile spreading across her face.
Knowing what was expected of him, knowing every soul on the ships around him would scrutinize any and all interactionswith her, Loche didn’t smile back, although he did try to soften his eyes as he met her halfway.
Lessia chewed her lip for a moment, but her eyes darted sideways, noting the thousands of people facing their way, climbing up masts and onto railings to see the regent meet the one who betrayed him—the one who was sent into their elections to spy—and her chin dipped. Only for half a second, but that was enough for Loche to know she understood.
“You came back,” he greeted her, noting his men standing straighter at the cold tone—the one that made them confident Loche had moved past the emotions that had made him bring Lessia to their home, to their haven.
“Of course we did.” Lessia wrung her hands, eyes fighting not to move sideways, and shoulders trying to remain lowered under the heaviness of the gazes on them.
Loche could tell it wasn’t an act. She’d always hated standing before crowds like this, and while some people had had her back during the election, they all knew what she’d done now—knew of her affiliation with the Fae king.
After helping Lessia’s sister—the girl he’d only seen once, on that horrible day when they said goodbye to their father—onto the deck, Merrick and Raine approached as well, and Loche could tell Merrick struggled not to pull Lessia to his side when she continued to shift her weight from foot to foot, as if she was preparing to flee.
But it appeared as if the Fae warrior also knew what was at stake, as he reached out a hand to shake Loche’s, with Raine following as soon as the silver-haired Fae released his firm grip.
“Regent,” Merrick greeted. “It seems you’ve chosen a good spot.”
His dark eyes flickered over the cliffs behind them—the ones where Loche planned to place most of his archers, including the ones with the best aim.
Loche only offered a sharp nod to acknowledge the Fae’s words. “Did you get the wyverns to come?”
Cold danced down his back when Lessia winced, and the Fae kept their features locked in the strange way only Fae could.
That they’d get the wyverns to help was how Loche had convinced most of his people to trust Lessia again. He’d spun a tale of her bravery, of her wish for forgiveness, and how she’d do anything to save Ellow, not to cause more mistrust than already filled the wind caressing the warships.
