“And with that, we seem to have forgotten our manners.” His father gave his mother a teasing smile before settling his own almost black eyes on Lessia. “Elessia, my name is Sandir Morshold, and this is my mate and wife, Ewiline Morshold. We died when Merrick was barely a year old, so he’s never known us, only what we look like.”
“It… it’s nice to meet you,” Lessia said when it had been silent for a few seconds. Her eyes were still so wide Merrick would have laughed if the situation were different.
“And you, my daughter,” Ewiline said, her smile returning as she blinked away the tears. “You’ve made him so happy. It is everything we’ve ever wanted.”
Another twist of his gut had Merrick grip Lessia sohard her eyes flew to his, and she quickly slipped her arm around his waist, a weak smile tugging at one side of her mouth.
A smile that should have resounded within him but was replaced with worry when Lessia’s eyes seemed to focus and unfocus.
Fuck. As the adrenaline from seeing his parents faded, that tiredness from earlier crashed into his chest like one of Raine’s blows, and when Auphore let out a demanding screech, Ydren’s soft whimper following, Merrick managed to dip his chin.
“It’s…” Fuck, what did you tell the parents you’d never talked to before? The ones you’d dreamed of and wished for, but never believed you’d actually meet?
“We know.” His mother reached out a hand, and while Merrick didn’t feel it as it stopped by his cheek, the sense of love brightening her eyes built across his chest, fighting with the fatigue already taking hold. “You need to let go.”
Concurring murmurs rose around them, and when Merrick lifted his gaze for a moment, he saw several of the souls nod, and when he found bright blue eyes in a tilted, smiling face, a huff left him.
He knew he hadn’t imagined it when Lessia breathed, “Thissian!”
“We’ll have to be fast,” his father interrupted. “Son, there is so much we need to tell you, but there isn’t time. You shouldn’t try this again. Not now, not yet, not until it’s safe. You need to find the one that clings to life. It’s your balance, as the ones who rose from death. We don’t know exactly what it means, so don’t waste time asking.”
His father threw him an apologetic look when Merrick opened his mouth, so he closed it again whenhis mother rushed out, “The living have forgotten, Merrick, but the gods got too strong—too power hungry—and nature fought back. We were losing—the gods killed us and many who stand with us today—erasing the knowledge of how they abused their power. But then a threat awoke somewhere, one whose memory had faded in this realm but now has awoken again. One that balanced the gods’ power, as everything should be balanced.”
“Lessia,” Merrick said, wishing with everything in him it didn’t seem so clear to him.
“Both of you,” his father responded as his figure began to flicker—whether it was real or caused by the black spots now dancing before Merrick’s eyes, he didn’t know—and his voice started going in and out. “You’re the soulbinder, Merrick—you’re the reason we all could stay—to hopefully fight that evil once more—to continue helping this world. And Lessia is one of the keys. But you cannot do it alone—there always, always needs to be balance to your powers, and right now…” Sandir winced. “Bring the witches to Vastala, and search the old books. You need to find the one who clings to life.”
Lessia started swaying beside him, and that was enough fucking pushing it.
Merrick didn’t even bother to nod as he shoved the magic away from them, doing everything in his power to keep his legs straight as the shadows evaporated, the wind picking up again, rushing around them as if the storm had just waited a beat and now decided to try to sweep them off the cliff.
“Behind you,” Auphore ordered, his harsh voicebarely carrying over the howling. “Go into the cave, and we’ll guard you from here.”
Neither Lessia nor Merrick could talk as he half dragged, half pushed Lessia through a rounded opening.
Merrick didn’t need to touch his nose or ears to know blood trickled out of them like it did for Lessia, as he managed to place her in the driest spot, settling himself between her and the roaring weather outside.
Chapter 9
Loche
Loche sipped from his fourth or fifth cup—he honestly wasn’t sure which one it was—as his eyes sliced across the room, lingering by Kerym and Pellie now sitting on the couch, the latter’s face still tinted pink, then moving to brush across Ardow, then Venko and Amalise at the table, his best friend hovering right behind Amalise’s chair, and finally landing on Raine and Frelina, who appeared to be on as good terms as he was with Iviry, based on Lessia’s sister’s crossed arms and defiant expression as she leaned back in a chair with a cup of her own.
How strange that this group of people was the one he felt most at home with right now, when everything in his life felt as if it was spinning out of control. But perhaps it made sense… No one in this cold cabin had set out on this path—they’d all been thrown into it without a choice, and all were dealing with the aftermath.
Ripping his gaze to the window, where rain still smattered like it had done the past week, Loche emptiedthe glass, but the stinging liquor did little to soothe the roiling emotions within him.
Married. His aftermath was that he was getting married. He’d never even really considered it, might have only touched on the idea when he and Lessia?—
Loche pushed the thought away.
There was no him and Lessia anymore, and he was fine with that.
He really was. Every nerve and muscle and bone within him had accepted it.
He’d always cherish whatever had been between them, the companionship and love and acceptance, but it was so clear they weren’t meant to be. Even if Merrick hadn’t come along, with his tall frame and grumblings and possessiveness, Loche knew there would have been no future for him and the girl with the golden eyes.
His duty was to his people, to the oath he’d sworn, and to the land he loved.
