Page 175 of A Promise so Bold and Broken

“Kerym,” she hissed between her teeth. “Set me down.”

“Or what?” Kerym spun around with her still in his arms, his face coming so close she wondered if she’d have to slap him.

“Don’t worry.” He grinned at her, a wild, reckless edge to the smile. “Merrick would throw me off the boat if I kissed you.”

She wrinkled her nose when he breathed onto her skin instead of kissing her, the hot air layering like a gentle mist across her neck.

Kerym chuckled darkly once he finally set her down. “You know females usually react very well to me being close to them.”

“I’m sure,” Lessia muttered, her muscles locking, knowing what was next.

Slow footsteps reached her ears, and this time, when she tried to find Merrick’s eyes, she couldn’t.

His face was bent down, the lines so hard she hoped he wouldn’t chip one of those sharp canines, pressing his jaw together.

She had to look away.

Seeing him like this was too much.

Too similar to those months during the election.

Too painful now that she knew the hatred tugging at his features wasn’t because of her…

But because he couldn’t be with her.

“Please know this brings me no joy.” Loche’s low voice reached her ears as she sensed him hovering behind her.

“I know.” Lessia nodded as she made herself turn around.

With her hands clenched by her sides, she stepped into Loche’s already open arms, swallowing when his familiar scent wrapped around her.

She couldn’t stop her heart from leaping when he crushed her against his chest—not because of the memories of when he’d last held her like this but because of the shuddered sigh leaving him, the slight twitch of his chest and the ember of sorrow lacing his wintery smell.

And when his chest jerked again, her arms snaked around his waist, and she hugged him back—holding him as he fought the shakes racking his body and closing her eyes when a near-silent sob, one that even the Fae around them wouldn’t pick up, escaped his lips.

They clung to each other as the words they hadn’t had time to speak, that might never leave their lips but were thought all the same—the sorrow, the guilt, the grief, the friendship, the understanding—the bond they’d always share softening until the sharp edges that had jabbed at them rounded.

Until Loche’s back straightened and the pit in her gut sewed itself together.

When they pulled back, Lessia didn’t fear meeting his eyes.

She was right.

The grays burned with the same sharpness they always did, but the smirk on his face wasn’t that of protection—of masking the emotions he harbored inside—but of challenge, of playfulness.

Loche raised his brows as he gently nudged her into a hard chest that she, without looking back, knew belonged to Merrick. “Looks like Rioner is early as well.”

Lessia peeked over his shoulder, and sure enough, a large ship had just emerged from the depths of the ocean from one of the tunnels she’d heard Rioner could conjure—allowing the ship he sailed on to travel in hours what took other ships weeks.

Loche’s smirk broadened when her eyes flicked back to his. “Get that mask of yours ready, little liar.”

Lessia bowed her head as she gave him a final look.

Then she turned to Merrick, and she wished she could freeze time just then because the love that shone in the Death Whisperer’s eyes knocked every sense out of her.

Brushing her fingers against his, she molded her features into the disguise she needed to wear tonight.

A smug smirk curling her lips.

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