Chapter 39 Lessia
Lessia
The sound of drums and ships rushing over water followed them over the sea, and while the wyverns swam swiftly across the waves, the apprehension within Lessia grew with every hour that passed as she and Merrick rode on the back of Auphore, who had taken the lead.
Ydren had been upset at first, but when Auphore snapped his jaws her way and told her he was only offering so that she would be rested when war came, she’d finally ceded and now swam beside them.
Merrick’s arms rested loosely around her waist, and once in a while, Lessia caught the reflection of the two of them in the water, or in Ydren’s shining violet scales.
Gold and silver twined as their hair was blown behind them, and she once again wondered how she’d ever not loved him—how she’d lived a whole life before him.
A sorrow simmered in her chest when she thought about the wedding ceremony they hadn’t had time to perform.
She knew it was dumb—everyone knew they belonged together—but if…
if the worst happened, if they ran out of time, it somehow felt important they’d said what needed to be said—that they’d tied the bonds that needed to be tied.
Still, she couldn’t regret her decision.
Lessia felt—no, knew—it was the right one. A deep tug in her gut, a brush of awareness that she thought might be souls she couldn’t see right now, a sense of pride from the wyverns around her—it all told her that this fight, this war, was where she needed to be.
Her thoughts hadn’t stopped churning since they’d left Aixle’s house, though.
Trista had dreamed of five queens awoken… But what did that mean?
Lessia didn’t feel like a queen of anything. The witch sisters had whispered it that day, but Lessia had no eagerness to rule… She would not take Iviry’s or Loche’s place. She didn’t want to lead a nation, or a people, or even a war.
Perhaps being queen isn’t just about a formal title.
Auphore turned his head back to look at her as he expertly navigated the increasingly tough waters.
Trista stayed to fight for her nation and people even after she was dethroned.
Perhaps… perhaps she knew something more.
Or perhaps there was something she didn’t understand.
Lessia hummed, her mind still refusing to let her escape what Aixle had told them.
Trista had died even being so powerful, even with Melekh as her husband. She’d died doing what Lessia was now attempting—trying to save the people she loved.
But still… Lessia frowned at her reflection in the water, seeing the defiance that she couldn’t quell within her—which echoed that she’d made the right choice. The defiance that was foreign and familiar and…
She narrowed her eyes at herself. There was something she was missing…
Ydren made a low sound deep in her throat, and Lessia knew the wyvern was telling her that Trista hadn’t been bonded to the wyverns—that she didn’t have their protection.
Glancing down at her subtly glowing arm, sensing the bonds around her vibrate in response, Lessia forced a smile as Merrick pulled her closer.
His chin rested on her shoulder as he released a breath.
“You’re right, Ydren,” Lessia said. “Trista didn’t have you all. She didn’t have the bonds that I do.”
While Merrick didn’t say anything, she could tell he’d shot Ydren some kind of grateful look because the wyvern seemed quite pleased with herself, pride making her neck stretch farther toward the gray sky above them.
The bonds did help. Lessia had felt it as soon as she’d made her way onto Auphore’s back. She’d become stronger somehow, not just within herself but within her mind, muscles, and body. Her conviction that she was on the right path had also firmed.
As her hand landed on Auphore’s scales and the soul stone living within her flickered to life, she hadn’t looked back at Vastala once.
She knew it was the same for Merrick—their mating bond allowing her to sense his strength building the longer they were at sea.
Even seeing the enemy ships they had now outswum had not deterred them.
“Will you go with us?” Lessia blurted out. “After… after this war, after this battle, will you go with us?”
She held her breath as Auphore moved his head back once more, his golden eyes dipping to her arm, then back up to her before he nodded—only once, but it was enough.
We will go wherever you and the Guardian of Death will go. You may not be queen of Havlands, Elessia, but the wyverns have accepted you as a Queen of the Sea.
Answering screeches echoed over the water, the wyverns calling not to war but for protection, for love and fierce loyalty. Both Lessia and Merrick sat straighter as the bonds now tethering not only the two of them but all the wyverns around them made the same feelings flow through their veins.
She would die for these wyverns, and the harsh breath leaving Merrick told her he’d do the same. They were united now—she’d earned their respect, and so had Merrick, refusing to give up even when she took her last breath.
Lessia held on to that feeling for the last hours they traveled across the sea.
While it might have been wishful thinking—her imagination—she felt stronger for each wave that Auphore escaped, felt stronger for each mile they swam toward the border.
As if the bond had truly cured her—as if the wyverns’ acceptance healed her.
Merrick had been quiet most of the trip, but when the armada of their own ships—flags of Vastala and Ellow and even a few from Korina swaying proudly in the wind—finally appeared ahead, he whispered into her hair.
“You know I love you no matter what you decide, right? That no matter where this life takes us, I will be by your side?”
Her brows pulled as she turned to look at him, trying to ignore Auphore’s sound of protest as she moved over his scales. “Of course I do… but—”
Merrick’s eyes were fierce as they burned into hers, and like the first time she’d seen them, that sense of falling had her grip his arm as he asked, “And you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you,” Lessia replied, and her confusion must have caused the wrinkle between her brows to deepen because Merrick leaned forward to kiss it.
“Good,” he rasped. “Please don’t stop doing so when we get on the ship.”
She continued to frown at him, but she didn’t have time to ask what he was talking about before music floated toward them.
Not the drums that had followed them on the ride here, but soft trickling music—flutes, horns, harps, and lyres accompanied soft singing—and Lessia looked around in wonder at the people milling about on the ships in the front line.
There was food on every ship.
Cups and goblets in people’s hands.
Fae, humans, and shifters mingling—some even dancing.
What—
Enjoy the wedding celebrations. Auphore didn’t give them a warning as he rose from the water, towering over a ship in the middle. Lessia would have squeaked as she almost fell backward if she hadn’t recognized every smiling face greeting them on the deck.
Her sister and Raine, their hands clasped and faces full of light.
Kerym with his arms around both the witch sisters.
Ardow and Venko and Amalise and Zaddock smiling more widely than she’d ever seen them do.
Kalia and Cedar, and all the children waving to them.
Loche and Iviry in beautiful formal gowns—something that must have been made on the ships here because the black and green clothing was a mixture of Vastala’s and Ellow’s styles.
Perfect for a united pair of leaders.
She shot Merrick a smile over her shoulder. “We made it in time for the wedding!”
His returning smile was blinding. “I couldn’t have it another way.”
Giving him a quick peck, Lessia jumped off the wyvern first, and she didn’t know how many hands helped steady her as she stumbled on the first step, but she didn’t care.
They were all here.
Lessia threw her arms around Frelina and Raine first, sensing the difference between them even before she saw the mating mark on Frelina’s neck.
Then Kerym lifted her off her feet, whispering, “I missed you, Golden Eyes.”
The witch sisters, Amalise, and Ardow hugged her at the same time, and Lessia playfully smacked at them when they cut off her air supply.
Loche and Iviry stepped up next, and while the tension between the two was palpable even as they hovered a few feet apart, Lessia pulled them both into a hug, ignoring that it was perhaps a strange thing to do with someone whom she’d once loved and his future wife.
“I’m so glad we got here in time,” Lessia exclaimed when she pulled back, and her eyes wandered over happy, relieved faces—she guessed they’d thought she would be in much worse shape. “I hope you didn’t have to wait for us?”
“No,” Iviry responded. “You came at the perfect moment. But you both need to change so that we can finally get started!”
Lessia tried to catch Merrick, but Amalise and Frelina got a firm grip on her arms. She didn’t have time to turn around before her sister and friends dragged her down into a room where she recognized a few of Loche’s weapons, and a rack with beautiful dresses stood on the opposite side of the space.
Lessia tried to get the women to speak—especially as she noticed the scratches and bruises on Frelina’s arms—but her sister only hushed her and said they needed to hurry if she’d look somewhat decent for the ceremony.
As Lessia took in the others, she realized they were probably right.
Iviry looked stunning in a floor-length gown of deep green, with black accents that Lessia was sure Loche loved marking her chest and waist. It was perfect to offset her hair, which looked like a wildfire, while her eyes were like a vast sea in summer.
The Fae looked every bit the queen she would be with Loche.