Chapter 34 Loche
Loche
The wedding was short. No frills. Just Loche and Iviry with Dedrick Reinsdor leading a small ceremony where the two leaders didn’t swear fealty just to each other but to each nation, for the first time in Havlands’ history, making Ellow, Vastala, and Korina one.
They’d stood on the deck of the ship they now shared with others, with humans and Fae and shifters on the vessels around them watching silently, and when it was over, there were no claps or cheers.
There was no feast. No celebration. No dresses or formal clothing.
A heavy cloud of duty clung to Loche, Iviry, and everyone around them as their council announced the new rules:
No more borders would separate the three nations—all people would be able to settle wherever they wanted, and all people were obligated to protect each other, regardless of whether they were Fae, human, shifter, or a mixture of any of them.
There would be no discrimination tolerated, something all soldiers had been informed of, and when such cases arose—which Loche knew they would—he and Iviry would personally oversee the inquiry and the punishment.
In the makeshift study Loche and Iviry had created, they’d also discussed setting up programs for integration—the hard gray eyes of a young Faeling who’d scolded him seemed to have taken a permanent position within Loche’s mind—but those would have to wait until after the war.
The council had made clear, though, there was one enemy, and that was the threat of the Oakgards’ Fae.
After making sure there were no objections, and once they’d confirmed with their soldiers everyone had accepted their roles for the coming days—whether that was preparing food, keeping people in check, guarding, or steering the ships—and no fights had broken out, Iviry had slipped away.
Loche hadn’t missed the tears filling her eyes, though, as soon as she turned her back on what was now their people.
He’d had the urge to follow her immediately, but when the memory of his first night as regent came into his mind—the loneliness that had settled into his every bone as he finally got away from the disapproving eyes of the nobles, and how he hadn’t been able to stop his back hunching from the responsibility he now carried—he decided to take a quick lap around the ship.
Zaddock had been the one to save Loche from crumbling like a child that night.
His friend had taken him to the apartment Loche had once shown Lessia, and they’d sat on the glass balcony there, drinking and laughing about the nobles’ clothing and the snotty things they cared about, and somehow the cold dread lathering across Loche’s skin had eased.
Loche had thought that if he had only one person—one friend—that would be enough.
For years, that had been true. Until…
Until Lessia stormed into his life and showed him that there were others out there like him—different but burning for the same things he did.
A sad smile spread across Loche’s face as he nodded to a few soldiers.
While they were occupied with saluting him as the new regent of Havlands, he swept up the bottle of golden liquor one of them must have tried to stuff under the railing and hid it behind his back as he started to make his way down to the small room he and Iviry would now share.
His smile widened as he remembered Lessia’s suspicion when he’d offered her a similar drink in that horrid cabin. He’d been impressed that she was the only one who thought there might be a possibility that he’d poison them all…
It was something he might have considered, after all.
Especially that fucking Craven…
Sending her a toast, hoping that wherever she and Merrick were, it was far from Havlands by now, Loche took a swig directly from the bottle as he readied himself to knock on the door in the dark corridor.
Zaddock had been his savior those first few years—had shown Loche what true loyalty was. But Lessia… Lessia was the one to open his eyes—to his people, yes—but also to something he’d been missing all along.
Love.
Not just in the romantic sense. The love he’d refused to let himself feel for his people, for his friends… for anyone. He’d thought he knew it all before he met her, but he’d been a smug idiot.
Yes, it was lonely at the top.
Yes, he had to sacrifice for his people.
But he loved this. He loved being regent. He loved that he could make a difference. He loved it all. And now… now there was a possibility for love behind the damp wooden door before him—with someone who cared for this nation, this duty, and the sacrifices as much as he did.
It might not be love yet.
It might never be love. But if he didn’t give it a chance?
A low laugh left him as he heard Lessia scold him in his mind.
Love means being brave enough to risk it all.
Loche had seen it in her when she let Merrick in.
He’d seen it in the silver-haired Fae warrior as he fought for his life to do what was right for Lessia, and Lessia only.
He’d seen it in Raine when he looked at Frelina—when the warrior had finally given in to the light he didn’t believe he deserved.
He’d seen it in Zaddock, who’d thrown away his pride to melt Amalise’s walls of ice.
If they could…
If they dared…
Then so would Loche.
And wasn’t it what he and Iviry were asking of their people? Being brave enough to care for a people they might not know—that they might even fear, for their differences—but dare to love without restraint so that they could change the world?
Loche rapped his knuckles against the door before he could second-guess himself.
As the handle twisted—as if Iviry had been right behind the door—he told himself that tonight, though… tonight he’d be a friend. A shoulder for Iviry to lean on. A distraction. An enemy if she needed to get some frustrations out, although he did prefer to keep his sight…
Her blue eyes were puffy when the door flew open, and Loche’s muscles coiled, his arms wanting to pull her against him, but as his hands twitched, she moved backward—just subtly but enough for him to know that wasn’t what she needed.
She didn’t say anything. Her eyes moved slowly over his face, then down to the bottle he still held. His lips drew into a crooked smile as he waved the liquor loosely in the air. “Come on.”
“I don’t—”
“No.” Loche jerked his head. “It’s been a… it’s been a day. I think we deserve to get a little drunk and have some fun. Some non-leader fun. Some throw-our-responsibilities-in-the-ocean fun. Some we’ll-regret-this-tomorrow fun.”
“Loche…” Iviry peeked over his shoulder, but he’d made sure none of their guards had followed him here—had given Zaddock strict orders to keep them occupied so he and Iviry could be alone.
“Iviry,” Loche teased, using the same scolding tone she had.
“I’ll have to drink this all myself if you don’t join me, and while I don’t back down from a challenge, I tend to get quite reckless when I’ve had a few…
so you might end up ruling this realm alone even before the war has begun.
And honestly…” He dragged his gaze from her bare feet, up the leathers she wore, over the dark tunic, and finally across her face.
“You’re far too beautiful to be a grieving widow. ”
A not especially elegant snort had bubbles form at her nostrils, and for reasons unbeknownst to himself, Loche thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. His grin hiked higher, until Iviry finally gave a weak smile in return.
“Come on.” Loche reached out with the hand not holding the bottle. “Let’s go, wife.”
She rolled her eyes at that, just like he had known she would, but after a long sigh she thankfully took his hand. His eyes dropped to her feet—seriously, how were they so damned perfect?—and to not give her any time to back out, Loche kicked off his own boots.
When Iviry frowned at him, he raised his brows. “It’s easier to sneak around without.”
He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, Loche firmed his grip on the beautiful Fae leader and almost dragged her up the stairs and out into the cool night.
When voices sounded around the bend of the ship, he quickly pulled them into a dark alcove, and they remained there, hidden behind a few barrels and the shade of a folded sail until the noise quieted.
Loche was about to get moving again when he noticed how close they were.
He’d placed Iviry by the side of the upper deck, himself pressed against her, and with every move of her chest, his own rose and lowered in rhythm, a slow beat that started a pounding in his blood and a buzzing in his ears.
He wasn’t sure which of them did it, but the hand he’d kept folded around hers moved to lace their fingers together, wrapping around each other’s so perfectly it was as if they were made for one another.
Loche drew a shallow breath as he lifted his eyes to hers, and he’d anticipated the jolt that would follow, but it still shook him from his scalp to his bare feet. The playful smile he’d kept on his face as they sneaked out faded, but he couldn’t stop looking into her eyes.
Gone was the hardness from earlier—the one that made them sparkle as she fought rebels, or addressed their people, or tried to get to her friends.
Instead, there was a vulnerability in them, accentuated by the red lines from when she must have been crying before he came to get her, that made her look so much younger than the centuries he knew she was.
A small wrinkle twisted the skin between her brows, and had his hands not been occupied, Loche would have reached up to smooth it out. He wanted to tell her it would all be okay. That they’d be okay. But no words passed his lips.
“What are you doing?” Iviry whispered when he just continued staring at her.
“Taking you in,” he responded, not bothering to hide the awe in his voice.
“And what’s your conclusion?” Iviry asked softly, the slight widening of her eyes making Loche believe she hadn’t meant to do so out loud.
His mouth twitched. “That I am a very lucky man.”