Page 147 of A Promise so Bold and Broken

“Loche.” Lessia leaned forward and touched his wrist, her eyes widening when he flinched.

Actually flinched at her touch.

She started lifting her hand, apologizing, when his landed atop hers.

“Don’t,” he whispered, eyes filling with that confusion again as they met hers.

That heartbreaking confusion the lethal ruler of Ellow, the feared and respected and loved leader, shouldn’t have.

So she didn’t.

Even when Merrick’s hand left her leg and an emptiness like a vast abyss opened within her, she tried to let some of the conviction she had left within her flow into Loche.

When she dared to glance at Merrick, his eyes appeared unseeing as they lay on the hand resting over her own, and the urge to pull away, to crawl into his lap to get that starry darkness back—perhaps even draw another smile from him—nearly overwhelmed her.

But she couldn’t bear it when Loche opened his mouth to speak again.

“I am not scared of death. I knew I wasn’t destined to grow old, not in the business I’m in and the way I got here.” Loche’s eyes bore into hers, and it was as if they were the only two in the room when he continued.

“But I don’t want to see my people bleed. We’ve barely healed from the last war, and I’m afraid this one might be the end. We do not have enough ships to protect Asker, the castle,andthe isles, so there will be no fleet—no soldiers here when they come. I refuse to be like the leaders before me—like the council—and take the fleet to protect myself. I will fight. And when I die… it will be for the people who elected me—for the world I promised them. If the decisions I made caused me to fail… then death seems like a fitting punishment.”

The decisions he made…

The decision to save Lessia over the land he loved.

She squeezed the hand not holding on to Loche’s arm so hard it began shaking.

It was her fault this was happening.

If Loche died…

No.

She had promised herself never to be responsible for another soul’s death again.

And his was tied to too many.

Hers was not.

“We need to speak to Rioner.” Lessia’s voice didn’t waver as she met the eyes of each male around the room. “I will not be responsible for a whole people perishing.”

Merrick let out a hissed breath, and she turned to him, her eyes burning at the emotions crossing his face. “I can’t. I can’t put my life over thousands. You must understand that?”

Merrick only shook his head, his jaw twitching as he broke their stare to share a look with Raine and Kerym, who avoided her gaze when she tried to find understanding in their eyes.

Loche’s hand tightened over her own, and her head whipped back to his. “He will kill you, Lessia. But that doesn’t mean this will end. The rebels are not under his command. And the Oakgards’ Fae coming here still need a place to live. The curse is merely an excuse for Rioner to keep Vastala as he prefers it.”

“He is right,” Merrick gritted, although Lessia could tell it was somewhat grudgingly. “Rioner will not change course now. He will see this through regardless of whether he needs to kill you or the regent.”

“That fucking king.” Kerym shook his head. “We should just kill him and then change the course for him. Lessia’s father is next in line for the throne, since Rioner never had children. Alarin would put a stop to all this.”

It was quiet for a moment, and an idea, a tiny seed of a thought, began to grow in Lessia’s mind.

Killing Rioner was necessary.

And they’d need to be close to him to accomplish that…

Close to many things she needed to accomplish before it was too late.

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