Chapter 15
Loche
It had only been a day on the ship, but to Loche it felt like an eternity.
He and Iviry had been forced to travel alone, apart from the captain and a few guards stationed around every curve and bend of his ship to ensure that they had protection should they be ambushed, and she’d barely spared him a look during the meals—which was the only time he saw her—only whispering to the pair of guards that followed her like two towering shadows.
Loche scratched his chin as he ventured alone up to the deck where the new council was about to meet at the request of Dedrick Reinsdor, leaving the room that was interconnected with Iviry’s. The unlocked door could have been fortified with ice for how likely it was to open.
His other fingers brushed the damp wood as he ascended the stairs, lingering on the beautiful carvings of sea creatures and stories the previous king of Ellow had requested when he had this ship built.
He’d hoped he’d be able to catch Iviry alone before this meeting—that they could agree on some rules for how this engagement would go—but she must have found one, or several, of the hiding places on this old ship, perhaps even ones he hadn’t yet found himself.
Loche wasn’t sure which monarch had this particular ship built, but it was one of the most spectacular in Ellow, even if the woodwork paled in comparison to a few of the Fae ships sailing behind them—their white wood stark against the dark sea and evening sky.
But Iviry had refused to take Rioner’s ship—the one Lessia and the others had come to the last fight with—and Loche hadn’t argued.
He still remembered the moment he’d thought Lessia was gone. And the one after… when the world felt like it was breaking apart as Merrick’s magic enveloped them. When Loche had held on to Iviry, feeling as if she were the only thing left in a shattered world.
As Loche opened the creaking door to the deck, where midnight shadows danced over the people like the souls Lessia and Merrick called forth, Iviry’s scent and presence pierced his chest so hard he struggled to breathe for a moment.
Almost fifteen people were standing in the bow—a few soldiers, a mixture of his and Iviry’s, like they’d agreed to keep on all ships—the council, including Iviry’s massive Fae guard, Dedrick Reinsdor, and Venko, Zaddock, and the other human representatives.
But Loche’s eyes refused to leave Iviry. While she kept her back to his, he knew she could feel him coming, could tell from the way her shoulders tensed, her body shifting ever so slightly before she caught herself.
Her hair shone like burnt gold in the moonlight.
Even though the air was filled with the salty tang of the sea, the smoke from fires where people on the ships around them cooked, and the leather and metal from the weapons everyone kept ready, Iviry’s gentle scent twined around him, lengthening his steps until he was right behind her.
She didn’t turn around, but a shiver went through her when his eyes remained on her straight back, and he could tell her hand moved of its own accord, jerking to sweep some of her hair to cover the spot of skin between her clothing and her neck that he’d been unable to stop looking at.
Loche knew the others were staring at the two of them. Some with confusion, like Venko and a few of the Fae. Some with pity, like Zaddock and Iviry’s two closest guards. And some with disapproval, like Dedrick.
But he didn’t care. He needed to speak to her. Alone.
He knew he’d hurt her with the way he’d spoken about Lessia, but he needed her to know Lessia wasn’t part of… whatever his relationship with Iviry was. That Lessia was a friend. Someone he’d always love, but… someone he’d realized wasn’t meant for him.
And he needed to ensure that Iviry was truly all right with what was going on. He’d never forced a woman’s hand, and he was not going to start with the one expected to be his damn wife.
Loche was about to wrap a hand around her arm and drag her away when Dedrick shook his head. “You two need to be a lot more convincing.”
Finally, Iviry turned, but a low scoff escaped Loche at the fake smile on her face as she sidled up beside him, slipping an arm into his and leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Is this better, Reinsdor?” she cooed, the tone so false it cut into Loche’s mind, and he had to make himself stay by her side, not step away to rid himself of the unease that fell from the female beside him in waves.
“A little,” the Fae muttered. “But there have been several incidents today. Fae, humans, and shifters who’ve gotten into fights.
They need to see you together. They need hope.
They need unity. They need to see that you two are serious about bringing our worlds together against the threats they face. ”
“Is all this necessary?” Loche snapped when Iviry and her fake smile beamed up at him, wrenching something sharp into his heart.
He hated this part of being a leader.
The games. The charades. The masks they all had to wear.
And now he’d have to continue them in his private life too?
The one he’d so fiercely protected to stay sane amidst judging nobles, people watching his every move, all the fake shit that flew from his mouth to protect his people…
the one he’d given Lessia a glimpse into because she’d seen him—had seen Loche, not the harsh regent everyone expected.
The warmth from Iviry’s being so close was replaced with cold dread.
He’d not been able to quash the hope that he and Iviry could find that.
Loche could see it in her, too—the shield she wrapped around herself whenever people were around—the one forged with smiles and winks and touches, and that didn’t fool him one bit.
But she seemed determined to keep that defense up with him as well.
“Loche!”
He shook his head when Zaddock called his name, and his friend must have noticed that he hadn’t been listening because he sighed before he spoke again.
“Dedrick is right. People are scared, Loche. There is a restlessness that will turn dangerous—that will make them turn on each other—before we even have time to try to face the Oakgards’ Fae.
They… People may not be on this ship, but they hear things… They know what happens on this one.”
There was real fear in Zaddock’s eyes—the kind he usually reserved for the blonde Amalise, but that now seemed to have taken permanent residence within his blue gaze.
“People don’t believe you… yet,” Venko added, his voice lowering. “They’re… they’re saying you couldn’t even convince your mother, regent, so why should they believe you’ll be the one to unite Havlands?”
Iviry’s fingers dug into his arm, and Loche shifted so that he could face her, but it seemed as if she realized what she was doing because she quickly released him, stepping back and offering the group a sharp nod.
“I’ll do better,” Iviry said. “I… I can see where I’ve erred.”
“We,” Loche added, unsure why his voice sounded so rough as he captured her eyes. “We will do better.”
His fucking mother wasn’t about to cause more trouble to Havlands than she’d already done. He carried no guilt for leaving her to rot with the few rebels who remained loyal and the Oakgards’ Fae who’d refused to side with them. She deserved it. But…
“Tell the people that I left my own mother in that cell because of what I believe in, because of what we will make happen.” Loche’s voice strengthened when Iviry nodded again.
“Iviry and I will begin going to different ships during the day, training with the people on them to show how we will fight as one.”
Dedrick broke in. “That’s good. I think we also need to fuel the people’s hope by giving them something to look forward to each day. Festivities, dinners, singing… Whatever we can do to keep their spirits up will help us in the end.”
Festivities… Loche couldn’t help but roll his eyes. They were going to war!
“We’ll do it,” Iviry said softly, her eyes sliding to his and for once staying there, not flicking away at whatever she saw in his hard ones. “If we need to spend every waking moment together, throwing dinners and parties and showing our people we’re serious… we will.”
Zaddock’s pinched face turned Loche’s way, and Loche threw his head back even before his friend mumbled, “The guards talk. They know you’re not sleeping in the same chambers…”
Even Iviry’s fake smile fell at that, and before anyone could stop her, she walked away with a choked “I’ll go move my things.”
Loche’s teeth slammed together as he spun around as well.
When someone asked, “Where are you going?” he hissed over his shoulder, “To spend time with my betrothed, so can you please get off this damn ship,” before forcing in a hand to stop the door swinging shut behind Iviry and storming through it.
Fuck, the Fae were fast, Loche thought as he reached the cabins beneath deck. Iviry was already throwing clothing and weapons from her room into his own, making a jumbled mess on the floor.
Walking up to the doorframe leading into his room and leaning against it, Loche trailed his eyes over the flying things and Iviry’s erratic movements, trying to make out the soft stream of words leaving her mouth.
When he realized it was every curse word he knew, and quite a few that he didn’t, he chuckled, and the sound had Iviry snap straight.
Her eyes bored into his as she snarled, “What’s so funny?”
Loche’s mouth twitched at the red spots on her cheeks, and despite the situation not being amusing in the slightest, another chuckle forced its way through his throat.
Iviry’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I. Said. What’s so fucking funny?”
He shook his head, the laughter fading when he heard the slight tremble in her voice. “Nothing. I… I just… This isn’t usually how women enter my bedroom.”
That was not the right thing to say, based on the hiss flying through Iviry’s teeth.
“What do you want from me?” She started throwing her stuff again, and Loche had to jump out of the way when a dagger came flying—one he hoped she hadn’t purposely aimed at his heart.
“I don’t usually stay with men who don’t want me there,” she continued, her voice breaking, which only seemed to fuel the rage in which her clothes and other items were being propelled into his room. “Believe it or not, I have no trouble finding men who would do a-anything for me to marry them.”
Something vulnerable wound its way into what he suspected she’d meant to be a sharp retort, and before he could second-guess himself, he walked across his own room into hers.
“What?” she snarled, her face turned away. But he still could tell there was dampness on her cheeks.
“I believe it,” Loche said when she remained bent over a pile of combs and jewelry, her hands clenching and unclenching as her chest strained against her shirt.
“What do you believe?” she snapped.
“That any man would consider himself lucky to marry you.”
The female froze, and Loche would have been worried had he not seen Merrick and some of his brothers do the same thing. Fae could go so still it was difficult to believe any blood pumped through their veins. It was slightly unnerving, but also helpful, since he needed to talk to her.
“Iviry,” he said, his voice soothing, as he took another step into the room.
“It might not be a conventional marriage, but I feel lucky that it’s you.
From what I’ve seen, you’re a great leader who puts your people first. You’re loyal to a fault.
You, like me, will do and say what’s needed to keep our people safe.
I… think we can be good together. We just…
we need to figure out how to balance everything. But we will. And we’ll do it as one.”
She still didn’t say anything, but… her shoulders started shaking, and first Loche thought she was laughing, but then the quietest, faintest sob floated through the room.
Fuck. He’d said the wrong thing again. Loche dragged his hands down his face before he decided to at least try to comfort her.
Walking up to the fiery-haired Fae, he squatted before her downturned face, and when she didn’t run away or say anything for him to step back, he rose and gently shifted her into his arms, using a hand to tilt her face toward him.
She was so fucking pretty, even with tears flooding her eyes and snot running out of her nose, that he almost had to step back not to give in to the strange urge to kiss them away, but then she mumbled something and he couldn’t help but pull her closer.
“What did you say?” Loche whispered, and he thought he could hear the crack in his heart when she sniffed again before responding.
“I-it’s all gone so fast… I was… I was just going to help Raine, and now I’m somehow leading Vastala into a war I am not sure we’ll win…
And I’m with people I don’t know, and who I doubt like me, and—” More sobs choked her words, and Loche swore quietly to himself when that fierce mask she usually carried vanished, revealing a woman with feelings and uncertainties and doubt—the exact feelings always swimming within himself.
“You don’t have to do this,” Loche whispered as she nestled her wet face into his neck. He held on to her as if he could hold the pieces of her that felt like they were breaking. “We don’t have to do this.”
Iviry quieted for a second, before she pulled back and looked at him, her copper brows drawn close. “But don’t we? If not us, then who?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.
Because Iviry was right…
If not them, then who would try to ensure that they all survived the coming weeks?