Page 20 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile
She had to believe that Merrick would save the others.
That he’d care for her sister. For her father. For her friends. For Havlands.
Because, despite what the Death Whisperer thought of himself, he was good.
A cough ripped her from her thoughts, and Lessia leaned to her right, trying to get closer to her father, whose breathing appeared as labored as Lessia’s.
“Father,” she whispered, wanting to say something more, wanting to tell them all that it would be all right, that she would get them out of here, that Merrick would come for them.
But the thickness in her throat choked her words.
Lessia tried to tell herself it wasn’t her fault, but when another clipped breath rushed past her father’s lips and a low, pained moan escaped someone else as they shifted on the floor, guilt knifed its way through her chest.
It felt like itwasher fault they were being hurt.
The guards were doing it to break Lessia, and she hadn’t convinced them they’d succeeded yet.
“It’snotyour fault,” her father rasped as he moved closer at the involuntary sound leaving her, his arm aligning with her own.
And even though none of them could move much due to the restrictive chains, his mere presence was soothing, and theburning sensation behind her eyes that had started when she heard Frelina’s voice grew hotter.
A silent sob shook her body.
Then another one.
And another.
Another.
They kept coming until her entire frame trembled so hard the chains rattled in sync with the violent shakes.
Both her father and Kerym tensed beside her, and she tried to control her limbs when Kerym urged, “Do not let them win, Lessia. Do not break. He’s coming for you, so hold on for him.”
“W-will he know?” she managed to ask, and while the question was vague, the others knew what she meant—knew that she needed to know if Merrick would feel her die, should it come to that.
“Yes.” The haunted word came from Thissian when the others remained silent.
She wanted to scream.
Either way, someone would hurt.
Merrick if she succeeded. The people in this room if she did not.
“It’s not your fault,” her father said again, his voice stronger now. “Nothing that’s happening is your fault. If it’s anyone’s, it’s mine.”
“Father, no,” Frelina whispered, while Lessia managed to shake her head.
“Lina,” her father pleaded softly. “I kept you both so sheltered because I wanted to protect you, but it seems… it seems all I did was set you up for failure. Lessia would never have left if I had found a way to integrate you into our society—to teach you what being Fae truly meant. And I… I should have listened to you, Frelina. I knew! I knew something was wrong, but I… I was too weak when your mother died. I…”
Her father’s voice broke, and Frelina’s louder sobs joined Lessia’s silent ones.
“I’m so sorry. My beautiful girls. I am so sorry for all the pain my brother, my blood, is causing.” Alarin drew a trembling breath. “I failed to protect you, and for that, I’ll never forgive myself. But Ipromiseyou, I will find a way to get you out of here.”
“Such pretty words, brother.”
Lessia jerked when the king’s voice floated through the room, and she wasn’t feigning the way her body curled into itself, how it tried to become as small as possible when a low laugh that she knew belonged to Torkher followed.
“I wonder how you expect to keep that promise,” Rioner continued, and in the silence following his words, Lessia could hear at least four pairs of feet making their way toward the group.
