Page 43 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile
Fighting against everything wanting to shut down within her, Lessia pried her eyes open.
She was surprised she could take in the scene before her—that there wasn’t a blindfold in place—but the feeling didn’t last long when Frelina’s distraught face came into view, the tracks down her cheeks betraying the tears that had broken through the layer of dust clinging to them all.
Sitting against the wall between Kerym and Thissian, who looked almost equally distressed as they stared back at Lessia, Frelina let out a small hiccup, her tear-stricken face seeming so young, so lost, as she met Lessia’s eyes.
“I’m glad you’re alive.” Kerym tried for a lopsided smile, but it didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes. “That cut on your head didn’t look too good.”
Frowning, Lessia tried to reach up to touch her hair, but although she was no longer tethered to the wall, her hands were bound behind her back, and she could do little more than bend her elbows.
She didn’t need her hands when she pushed up to sit from the floor. Her head pulsated, and the warm trickle down her still-bare back confirmed that she must be bleeding.
But why was she bleeding?
She found Frelina’s eyes once more as she racked her jumbled mind.
She remembered Torkher carving something into her skin, and with a quick glance, she could confirm Merrick’s name was etched all over the parts of her body her eyes could reach, dirt and what must be coal dust already settling within the healing wounds.
She remembered the king.
Water.
Her father…
Lessia whipped her head around, icy terror seeping through her veins.
As soon as her gaze snagged on the limp body on the floor, on the dark stain spread out beneath it, she slammed her eyes shut.
It had to be a dream.
A nightmare.
Not real.
Her shoulders lowered.
Of course. It was Torkher using his magic again. He’d done this to her before.
Every person she’d loved had lain on the floor of this ship at some point.
Even Merrick, who wasn’t anywhere near this cabin, had taken her father’s place.
Opening her eyes again, Lessia shook her head.
She was too weak to use her magic, her body completely drained, so Torkher must have physically tortured her to get her mental walls down.
That wasn’t new, either, and it would explain the deep wound in the back of her head.
A humorless laugh bubbled up her throat, and she threw her stare around the room, knowing already she wouldn’t find the Fae guard.
He never showed his face in these visions…
“You can stop now, Torkher! I already figured it out. You can’t hurt me with this anymore! I know you’re making me see it!”
She was getting better at realizing when he used his magic, even when it seemed as real as this vision did.
“Lessia,” Kerym called softly. “It’s not Torkher.”
She laughed again as she met his blue eyes. “You have to say that, you know. You always say these things.”
