“He’s going to be crushed,” Amalise said, her head finding Zaddock’s shoulder.
They all knew who she meant, and the world quieted for a second in sorrow for the fierce Fae warrior who would have done anything—killed everyone here—if that was what would keep Elessia alive, if that was what would make her happy.
“No.” Iviry shook her head. “He won’t be. He asked something of me before they left…” She turned to Loche. “How much time do we have?”
“They’ll be here this time tomorrow,” Loche replied, the confusion apparent in his deep voice.
“Then there is no time to waste. Ladies!” Iviry jerked her head toward Amalise, Frelina, Kalia, Pellie, and Soria. “You’re with me. And you idiots.” She bore her eyes into Raine and Kerym first, then the rest of the poor males scattered around the ship. “Come to my and Loche’s room in an hour. I’ll have tasks for all of you.”
Chapter 39
Lessia
The sound of drums and ships rushing over water followed them over the sea, and while the wyverns swam swiftly across the waves, the apprehension within Lessia grew with every hour that passed as she and Merrick rode on the back of Auphore, who had taken the lead.
Ydren had been upset at first, but when Auphore snapped his jaws her way and told her he was only offering so that she would be rested when war came, she’d finally ceded and now swam beside them.
Merrick’s arms rested loosely around her waist, and once in a while, Lessia caught the reflection of the two of them in the water, or in Ydren’s shining violet scales. Gold and silver twined as their hair was blown behind them, and she once again wondered how she’d ever not loved him—how she’d lived a whole life before him.
A sorrow simmered in her chest when she thought about the wedding ceremony they hadn’t had time to perform. She knew it was dumb—everyone knew theybelonged together—but if… if the worst happened, if they ran out of time, it somehow felt important they’d said what needed to be said—that they’d tied the bonds that needed to be tied.
Still, she couldn’t regret her decision.
Lessia felt—no, knew—it was the right one. A deep tug in her gut, a brush of awareness that she thought might be souls she couldn’t see right now, a sense of pride from the wyverns around her—it all told her that this fight, this war, was where she needed to be.
Her thoughts hadn’t stopped churning since they’d left Aixle’s house, though.
Trista had dreamed of five queens awoken… But what did that mean?
Lessia didn’t feel like a queen of anything. The witch sisters had whispered it that day, but Lessia had no eagerness to rule… She would not take Iviry’s or Loche’s place. She didn’t want to lead a nation, or a people, or even a war.
Perhaps being queen isn’t just about a formal title.Auphore turned his head back to look at her as he expertly navigated the increasingly tough waters.Trista stayed to fight for her nation and people even after she was dethroned. Perhaps… perhaps she knew something more. Or perhaps there was something she didn’t understand.
Lessia hummed, her mind still refusing to let her escape what Aixle had told them.
Trista had died even being so powerful, even with Melekh as her husband. She’d died doing what Lessia was now attempting—trying to save the people she loved.
But still… Lessia frowned at her reflection in the water, seeing the defiance that she couldn’tquell within her—which echoed that she’d made the right choice. The defiance that was foreign and familiar and…
She narrowed her eyes at herself. There was something she was missing…
Ydren made a low sound deep in her throat, and Lessia knew the wyvern was telling her that Trista hadn’t been bonded to the wyverns—that she didn’t have their protection. Glancing down at her subtly glowing arm, sensing the bonds around her vibrate in response, Lessia forced a smile as Merrick pulled her closer. His chin rested on her shoulder as he released a breath.
“You’re right, Ydren,” Lessia said. “Trista didn’t have you all. She didn’t have the bonds that I do.”
While Merrick didn’t say anything, she could tell he’d shot Ydren some kind of grateful look because the wyvern seemed quite pleased with herself, pride making her neck stretch farther toward the gray sky above them.
The bonds did help. Lessia had felt it as soon as she’d made her way onto Auphore’s back. She’d become stronger somehow, not just within herself but within her mind, muscles, and body. Her conviction that she was on the right path had also firmed.
As her hand landed on Auphore’s scales and the soul stone living within her flickered to life, she hadn’t looked back at Vastala once. She knew it was the same for Merrick—their mating bond allowing her to sense his strength building the longer they were at sea. Even seeing the enemy ships they had now outswum had not deterred them.
“Will you go with us?” Lessia blurted out. “After… after this war, after this battle, will you go with us?”
She held her breath as Auphore moved his head backonce more, his golden eyes dipping to her arm, then back up to her before he nodded—only once, but it was enough.
We will go wherever you and the Guardian of Death will go. You may not be queen of Havlands, Elessia, but the wyverns have accepted you as a Queen of the Sea.
Answering screeches echoed over the water, the wyverns calling not to war but for protection, for love and fierce loyalty. Both Lessia and Merrick sat straighter as the bonds now tethering not only the two of them but all the wyverns around them made the same feelings flow through their veins.
