A Fate so Dark and Delicate (Compelling Fates Saga #4)

Chapter 1

Lessia

The storm hammered so hard against the window that Lessia wondered for a moment if someone was banging on it. But as she stared out the smudged glass, squinting to make out anything through the fine layer of soot that covered most of it, only heavy rainfall and a blurred empty path met her.

She shook her head at herself.

Since they arrived in Korina yesterday, she’d seen no one but Merrick, Raine, and Frelina, who were also staying in this small half-burned-down cabin with her.

But even during the days before that—the ones where the soldiers of Ellow and the, albeit hesitant, Vastala Fae had joined forces to capture rebels and Oakgards’ Fae alike and decided to bring them to Korina, to neutral ground, until they knew what to do with them—people had stayed away from her.

She’d barely spoken even to her friends—Ardow, Amalise, Kerym, Soria, and Pellie—and when she had, they’d all looked at her differently after what had happened at the end of the battle.

There was a hushed, hurried tone to their words that she didn’t recognize, one that couldn’t be explained by the rush of trying to get prisoners and everyone else safely to Korina.

And even though their smiles were genuine, the feeling of relief that she was alive clear, something haunted flitted across their features every time they believed she wasn’t looking.

She’d seen Loche, as well, cast glances at her whenever they crossed paths, and although they hadn’t had time to speak—he was still regent of Ellow and their world was in turmoil, after all—she’d seen the worry, not for himself but for her, in his eyes.

The humans and Fae she didn’t know would barely look at her, walking in wide circles, even on the ships, to avoid her path.

Even if she’d received a few fast, muttered thanks here and there in passing, they were often accompanied by an apprehensive glance and then rushing off to talk about her with someone else.

Casting her head back and glaring at the blackened beams lining the ceiling—the fires Korina had endured during the last war had painted them dark and murky—Lessia sighed.

She didn’t know what was worse: being shunned because she was half-Fae, ignored and cast aside, or being avoided because people were afraid of her.

Lessia didn’t even know what had happened. As soon as she’d jumped to her feet back on that ship, the thousands upon thousands of souls bowing to her had disappeared. Just evaporated as if they’d never even been there at all.

But they had. Even now, even here in this cabin, she could feel them.

She didn’t know how, but there was something—something different, something old—that had been awakened within her and made her pulse thrum a little faster, her heart beat a little harder.

If she was entirely truthful, it was something a little too close to the power that she’d felt race through her veins when she’d held the wyverns’ souls in her hands.

She couldn’t shake it. Day and night, that sense was there—the foreign feeling sometimes consuming her, especially when the others avoided her and she had nothing to keep herself distracted.

Even her dreams were haunted by the feeling—whispered sounds of “Queen” and a sense of urgency waking her up drenched in sweat.

She’d awoken several times from exhausted sleep, and she’d asked Merrick—who refused to let her sleep anywhere but in his arms—whether it was a dream, a nightmare?

Every time he’d look at her for a moment, and she knew somehow he wished he could say yes, but then he shook his head and pulled her closer.

At least people avoided him as well. She’d seen the looks he received—not just from the Fae and humans and shifters they didn’t know, but from their friends.

Merrick had risked everyone for her, and she knew she should be angry with him. Livid really. But each time those dark eyes found hers—which was most of the time, since people left them alone—she couldn’t. Because she would have done the same for him, wouldn’t she?

That darkness that had driven her uncle to his power-hungry ways wasn’t mirrored in her.

Not exactly. But there was another, selfish part of her that she let whisper to her only in the night, which knew that if she’d been in Merrick’s position, she would have compelled the damned gods to get him back.

After just a taste of a world without him, she knew now that for him, she would have gladly ripped to shreds the realm that she was trying to save.

Lessia glanced out the window again, watching the dark clouds swirl around the equally dark island, casting shadows over the grimy soot covering every stone, every dead tree, and every narrow path winding outside.

Merrick should be back any minute now. He’d left earlier to check on Kerym, who’d barely spoken a word to anyone since Thissian’s death, making sure he’d join the meeting happening in an hour or so.

She sighed when unease whirled in her gut.

Today was the day the Fae and humans would get together to decide what to do next.

What Havlands would become.

Who would lead each nation.

What they’d do with the rebels, with the Fae who still sided with Rioner, with the Oakgards’ Fae—the hundred or so people they’d locked into the still-standing prison on Korina.

Lessia wasn’t particularly looking forward to it.

Not only because she’d been asked to be part of each nation’s discussions, taking a leadership role in the cross-Ellow-and-Vastala council Loche aimed to build—as if she had any experience in what it took to lead a people—but because she disagreed with how the prisoners were being treated.

Sure, they might have all risked Havlands’ destruction…

But they’d done it out of desperation—out of belief that they were fighting for their own people, exactly like she and her friends were.

Throwing them into cellars like all the leaders before would have done?

No. It wasn’t what Lessia had hoped for.

She’d said as much when one of Loche’s men delivered a note asking for her participation in this council, and the soldier had returned only an hour later, informing her that Loche would ensure the people listened to her opinions during the meeting he’d organized.

She’d have to speak up about this today, and though she’d practiced with Merrick…

Lessia was terrified. She remembered the debates on Ellow—especially the horrible one with the nobles—and today?

Today would be packed with nobles, both human and Fae.

And not just them… but every person who’d stared at her when they thought she wasn’t looking, whispering their worries and fears to whoever was beside them.

That strange feeling roiled within her again—a mixture of cold and warmth whispering over her skin, raising the hairs on her arms—and she swallowed when something within her tugged, almost as if at her soul.

You can do whatever you want now. You’re stronger than anyone here.

It wasn’t a voice. Not really. But it was a feeling—the same way she felt Ydren and Auphore. The way she knew what they were thinking.

The wyverns…

Lessia shot a quick thought to Ydren—something she’d learned she could do when they were on the ships and Ydren showed up every time Lessia became too anxious—letting her know she was coming down the cliffs later, after the meetings.

For some reason, the wyverns had stayed after the battle, after what had happened to Lessia.

She wouldn’t have blamed them for leaving, and she could tell there was some apprehension in Auphore when he’d spoken to her the evening she died and came back.

But he’d only asked her what she wanted them to do, and Lessia had asked that they remain in Havlands.

The Oakgards’ Fae imprisoned in those cells were less than a hundred, and from what she’d understood, an entire army—a whole people—was on their way here to claim some land for themselves.

And while there hadn’t been more fighting… well, at least physical altercations, there was a lot of mistrust between the Fae and humans. Right now, Lessia struggled to envision a world where they could collaborate, even against a common enemy.

If they couldn’t get to that point before those ships arrived… the wyverns would be needed to keep those Lessia loved safe in the next battle.

An awareness, but not the uncomfortable one she’d recently been introduced to from whatever those souls were, pricked her skin, and despite everything going on, Lessia smiled.

Merrick.

She didn’t bother looking out the window as she rose from the dusty chair she’d been sitting on and sprinted to the door, slamming it open right as a wet Merrick reached for the handle.

His lips twisted to the side, but that didn’t stop the smile he tried to bite down as she threw herself into his arms, burrowing her face into his damp neck and whispering, “I missed you.”

Lifting her off the ground so she had to wrap her legs around his waist, Merrick claimed her lips, then moved to kiss her chin and her neck. After tugging at her earlobe, he rasped, “I missed you too.”

It was silly, but she had really missed him. It might have only been an hour, but after having felt what a world without him was like…

Merrick must have sensed where her thoughts went because his kisses became more urgent, more passionate, more heated as he carried her inside.

When she responded with a feverish passion of her own, Merrick groaned.

His lips didn’t leave her neck as he said, “Let’s skip the meeting.

You already saved them once. Let them save themselves this time. ”

A giggle stuck in her throat, interrupted by Merrick’s hands exploring her body as he pressed her against the wall beside the door, but she forced herself to respond. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” Merrick found her lips again, nipping at her bottom one before he continued. “Raine is with Kerym, and your sister is spending time with those witches. We’re finally alone.”