Before he knew what he was doing, he slipped a hand into hers, and another jolt ran down his spine. The whispers around him became more like clear thoughts and feelings, their faces sharpening with every moment he held on to Lessia.
And he realized…
They… loved her. These souls… they loved his mate.
It’s your love that flows through this room, son.
Merrick turned his head to the side. He usually prided himself on being composed, having perfected over the years every mask there was to bear.
But those dark eyes…
He caught only a glimpse of a warm smile before the souls disappeared as swiftly as they’d come. Still, those sparks ran up and down his arm, and he could feel the same sense fill Lessia based on how she stepped closer to him, holding on to him to remain steady.
“I do not seek power.” Lessia emphasized the words she’d already stated. “But I will not stand for more of this. The world is changing, whether you want it to or not, and you all better get on board, because if you don’t, we’re doomed.” She captured Iviry’s and Loche’s eyes, the two leaders—to their credit—closing their gaping mouths as they stared back at her. “I will give you the time to discuss with your people which path you wish to go down. We will return later to discuss what to do with the prisoners.”
With that, she tugged on Merrick’s hand, and as one, they turned to the door, Raine, Frelina, Soria, Pellie, Kerym, Ardow, and Amalise following closely behind.
And maybe it wasn’t appropriate, but Merrick lifted Lessia into his arms when he felt a wave of tirednesssweep through her, one that lingered within himself. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he kissed her—and he knew she could feel how fucking in awe he was of her, and how damned proud he was to stand by her side.
Chapter 4
Loche
With his pulse still thundering in his ears, Loche looked out over the crowd of Fae and humans.
They all remained standing in those neat lines the souls had pushed them into, many faces still blanched from fear, even as the door behind Lessia and her friends slammed shut. Finding Zaddock’s eyes where he was perched a few feet from the door, having watched as Amalise slipped through with the rest, Loche jerked his head toward the dark fireplaces, and thankfully, his friend understood.
As Zaddock got to work on getting the little light they could back into this room, Loche’s eyes drifted to Iviry’s blue ones, and the intensity of them rushed over his skin until he looked away.
She was so composed. At least that’s how she looked to Loche, standing straight-backed and with her shoulders lowered as her sharp gaze swept through the room.Her features were relaxed, yet not weak, as she gave one of her men a whispered order.
Loche didn’t doubt she could hear his heart still beating against his rib cage when her eyes trailed over him, and he was about to make a quip about adrenaline being necessary, when he caught himself, swallowing the words she might take the wrong way.
He’d already messed up enough with her the night after the battle…
Loche moved to watch Zaddock work on the second fire, his thoughts refusing to let him escape the memory of Iviry approaching him on the ship after they’d finally captured all the prisoners and tended to injured and frightened soldiers.
The scent of blood was still harsh in the air, and Loche angrily wiped at his face when a tear escaped as he thought of how many of his men he’d lost today—when he thought of the house calls he’d have to make, the hearts he’d have to break when they returned to Asker, where most of their families lived.
Fuck. It had been one day of battle, and he was already sick of it.
He didn’t want this.
He’d fought his way to become regent to make Ellow a better place. Not for this… Not for bloodshed and pain and death.
A presence sidled up to him, and he turned his face away, knowing there would be streaks down his cheeks betraying his weakness and that his eyes would surely tell whoever it was too much—let them know he wasn’t ready for this.
Because that was the truth, wasn’t it?
He wasn’t ready to be regent if this was the cost he’d let his people pay.
He’d allowed too many to die—too many to lose friends and family.
“Empathy isn’t a weakness, regent.”
Loche had no idea how he could recognize Iviry’s voice so quickly, how it resounded within him like a bow quivering after an arrow was released. But he did. It was as if he’d always known it, and he wasn’t sure what to feel about that.
“Empathy might not be, but not being able to protect my people is,” Loche responded, keeping his eyes on the cliff where several of those Faelings sat with their legs dangling.
