A Fate so Dark and Delicate
Book 0:
Compelling Fates Saga
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Synopsis
The king is dead, but Havlands is still in turmoil, plagued by distrust amongst the conquered rebels, shifters, Fae, and humans.
With the impending threat of the invading Oakgards’ Fae, Elessia and her friends find themselves in a race to unite their fractured realm. But as Elessia grapples with the deadly implications of her newfound powers, she and Merrick discover a devastating truth: the price of her new gifts may force them to leave Havlands and their friends behind to face the looming war alone.
As Elessia and Merrick journey to Vastala in desperate search of answers, their friends must survive the brutal politics of a collapsing realm on their own. Bonds are tested, loyalties shift, and the lines between ally and enemy blur. And with fate at the door, they each must decide whether answering the call of destiny is worth facing the shadows that haunt them—all before it’s too late.
Release date: December 17, 2025
Publisher: Kensington Books
Print pages: 476
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A Fate so Dark and Delicate
Sophia St. Germain
The storm hammered so hard against the window that Lessia wondered for a moment if someone was banging on it. But as she stared out the smudged glass, squinting to make out anything through the fine layer of soot that covered most of it, only heavy rainfall and a blurred empty path met her.
She shook her head at herself.
Since they arrived in Korina yesterday, she’d seen no one but Merrick, Raine, and Frelina, who were also staying in this small half-burned-down cabin with her. But even during the days before that—the ones where the soldiers of Ellow and the, albeit hesitant, Vastala Fae had joined forces to capture rebels and Oakgards’ Fae alike and decided to bring them to Korina, to neutral ground, until they knew what to do with them—people had stayed away from her.
She’d barely spoken even to her friends—Ardow, Amalise, Kerym, Soria, and Pellie—and when she had, they’d all looked at her differently after what had happened at the end of the battle.
There was a hushed, hurried tone to their words that she didn’t recognize, one that couldn’t be explained by the rush of trying to get prisoners and everyone else safely to Korina.
And even though their smiles were genuine, the feeling of relief that she was alive clear, something haunted flitted across their features every time they believed she wasn’t looking.
She’d seen Loche, as well, cast glances at her whenever they crossed paths, and although they hadn’t had time to speak—he was still regent of Ellow and their world was in turmoil, after all—she’d seen the worry, not for himself but for her, in his eyes.
The humans and Fae she didn’t know would barely look at her, walking in wide circles, even on the ships, to avoid her path. Even if she’d received a few fast, muttered thanks here and there in passing, they were often accompanied by an apprehensive glance and then rushing off to talk about her with someone else.
Casting her head back and glaring at the blackened beams lining the ceiling—the fires Korina had endured during the last war had painted them dark and murky—Lessia sighed.
She didn’t know what was worse: being shunned because she was half-Fae, ignored and cast aside, or being avoided because people were afraid of her.
Lessia didn’t even know what had happened. As soon as she’d jumped to her feet back on that ship, the thousands upon thousands of souls bowing to her had disappeared. Just evaporated as if they’d never even been there at all.
But they had. Even now, even here in this cabin, she could feel them.
She didn’t know how, but there was something—something different, something old—that had been awakened within her and made her pulse thrum a little faster, her heart beat a little harder. If she was entirely truthful, it was something a little too close to the power that she’d felt race through her veins when she’d held the wyverns’ souls in her hands.
She couldn’t shake it. Day and night, that sense was there—the foreign feeling sometimes consuming her, especially when the others avoided her and she had nothing to keep herself distracted. Even her dreams were haunted by the feeling—whispered sounds of “Queen” and a sense of urgency waking her up drenched in sweat.
She’d awoken several times from exhausted sleep, and she’d asked Merrick—who refused to let her sleep anywhere but in his arms—whether it was a dream, a nightmare? Every time he’d look at her for a moment, and she knew somehow he wished he could say yes, but then he shook his head and pulled her closer.
At least people avoided him as well. She’d seen the looks he received—not just from the Fae and humans and shifters they didn’t know, but from their friends.
Merrick had risked everyone for her, and she knew she should be angry with him. Livid really. But each time those dark eyes found hers—which was most of the time, since people left them alone—she couldn’t. Because she would have done the same for him, wouldn’t she?
That darkness that had driven her uncle to his power-hungry ways wasn’t mirrored in her. Not exactly. But there was another, selfish part of her that she let whisper to her only in the night, which knew that if she’d been in Merrick’s position, she would have compelled the damned gods to get him back. After just a taste of a world without him, she knew now that for him, she would have gladly ripped to shreds the realm that she was trying to save.
Lessia glanced out the window again, watching the dark clouds swirl around the equally dark island, casting shadows over the grimy soot covering every stone, every dead tree, and every narrow path winding outside.
Merrick should be back any minute now. He’d left earlier to check on Kerym, who’d barely spoken a word to anyone since Thissian’s death, making sure he’d join the meeting happening in an hour or so.
She sighed when unease whirled in her gut.
Today was the day the Fae and humans would get together to decide what to do next.
What Havlands would become.
Who would lead each nation.
What they’d do with the rebels, with the Fae who still sided with Rioner, with the Oakgards’ Fae—the hundred or so people they’d locked into the still-standing prison on Korina.
Lessia wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. Not only because she’d been asked to be part of each nation’s discussions, taking a leadership role in the cross-Ellow-and-Vastala council Loche aimed to build—as if she had any experience in what it took to lead a people—but because she disagreed with how the prisoners were being treated.
Sure, they might have all risked Havlands’ destruction…
But they’d done it out of desperation—out of belief that they were fighting for their own people, exactly like she and her friends were.
Throwing them into cellars like all the leaders before would have done?
No. It wasn’t what Lessia had hoped for.
She’d said as much when one of Loche’s men delivered a note asking for her participation in this council, and the soldier had returned only an hour later, informing her that Loche would ensure the people listened to her opinions during the meeting he’d organized.
She’d have to speak up about this today, and though she’d practiced with Merrick…
Lessia was terrified. She remembered the debates on Ellow—especially the horrible one with the nobles—and today? Today would be packed with nobles, both human and Fae. And not just them… but every person who’d stared at her when they thought she wasn’t looking, whispering their worries and fears to whoever was beside them.
That strange feeling roiled within her again—a mixture of cold and warmth whispering over her skin, raising the hairs on her arms—and she swallowed when something within her tugged, almost as if at her soul.
You can do whatever you want now. You’re stronger than anyone here.
It wasn’t a voice. Not really. But it was a feeling—the same way she felt Ydren and Auphore. The way she knew what they were thinking.
The wyverns…
Lessia shot a quick thought to Ydren—something she’d learned she could do when they were on the ships and Ydren showed up every time Lessia became too anxious—letting her know she was coming down the cliffs later, after the meetings.
For some reason, the wyverns had stayed after the battle, after what had happened to Lessia. She wouldn’t have blamed them for leaving, and she could tell there was some apprehension in Auphore when he’d spoken to her the evening she died and came back. But he’d only asked her what she wanted them to do, and Lessia had asked that they remain in Havlands.
The Oakgards’ Fae imprisoned in those cells were less than a hundred, and from what she’d understood, an entire army—a whole people—was on their way here to claim some land for themselves.
And while there hadn’t been more fighting… well, at least physical altercations, there was a lot of mistrust between the Fae and humans. Right now, Lessia struggled to envision a world where they could collaborate, even against a common enemy.
If they couldn’t get to that point before those ships arrived… the wyverns would be needed to keep those Lessia loved safe in the next battle.
An awareness, but not the uncomfortable one she’d recently been introduced to from whatever those souls were, pricked her skin, and despite everything going on, Lessia smiled.
Merrick.
She didn’t bother looking out the window as she rose from the dusty chair she’d been sitting on and sprinted to the door, slamming it open right as a wet Merrick reached for the handle.
His lips twisted to the side, but that didn’t stop the smile he tried to bite down as she threw herself into his arms, burrowing her face into his damp neck and whispering, “I missed you.”
Lifting her off the ground so she had to wrap her legs around his waist, Merrick claimed her lips, then moved to kiss her chin and her neck. After tugging at her earlobe, he rasped, “I missed you too.”
It was silly, but she had really missed him. It might have only been an hour, but after having felt what a world without him was like…
Merrick must have sensed where her thoughts went because his kisses became more urgent, more passionate, more heated as he carried her inside. When she responded with a feverish passion of her own, Merrick groaned. His lips didn’t leave her neck as he said, “Let’s skip the meeting. You already saved them once. Let them save themselves this time.”
A giggle stuck in her throat, interrupted by Merrick’s hands exploring her body as he pressed her against the wall beside the door, but she forced herself to respond. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” Merrick found her lips again, nipping at her bottom one before he continued. “Raine is with Kerym, and your sister is spending time with those witches. We’re finally alone.”
“Because”—Lessia sucked in a breath when Merrick found his way under her shirt, his thumb brushing her nipple until it hardened—“we can’t do that to Loche, or Iviry for that matter. They need us there.”
Iviry had been appointed interim ruler of Vastala the evening of Rioner’s death, her status as a respected commander untainted by the years she’d spent in hiding from the soldiers of Vastala who had accompanied Rioner.
Still, if the people of Ellow were conflicted based on the news they’d found out about Loche—that he was the son of the rebel leader, a halfling, as well as the news of what had happened between him and Lessia—the Vastala Fae were in uproar.
Their king had been murdered, and not just by anyone, but by his halfling niece. The same halfling niece who somehow had been ripped from death’s claws by the Death Whisperer and then proceeded to summon thousands of dead souls.
Or something like that…
Lessia didn’t exactly know what had happened, and she knew Merrick hadn’t brought it up because he’d sensed she wasn’t ready.
She didn’t blame the ones who called for her execution, but she had to give it to Iviry—the female knew how to gain respect. Iviry had beaten up a male who’d gone after Lessia one day on the ships, reacting at the same time as Merrick but hissing at him that this was her fight.
Then the fiery female had promptly thrown the attacker into the cellars with the other Fae who appeared too loyal to Rioner. She’d proceeded to send out several males with notes to Vastala to inform Rioner’s council and any other high-standing Fae what had happened, about Iviry’s interim leadership and plans to keep Vastala from being attacked, including how Lessia was off limits.
The one thing Lessia had going for her was that she’d saved the Reinsdors and their allies who’d been trapped behind that wave. Given the power the Reinsdors held in Vastala, they’d called for absolving Lessia of all blame, and while she knew many disagreed, they’d listened to Dedrick Reinsdor, the head of their family.
No one else had come after her after that.
Merrick’s teeth rasped against her collarbone, and she shook her head as she opened her eyes to his, her body again finding itself under his spell. Offering her one of his lethal smiles, Merrick pressed himself against her until she moaned at his hardness.
“You thinking of Loche when I’m doing this to you is making me a little jealous.” His teeth emphasized the statement, alternating sucking and biting on the sensitive skin at the base of her neck, and his hands became more possessive, one hand squeezing her breast until she squirmed and the other keeping a firm grip on her ass.
“I—” She took a deep breath when heat exploded within her core, shooting out in every limb. “I am not thinking…”
It was impossible to continue speaking, or even continue her train of thought, when Merrick’s hand left her breast, slid down her stomach, and with a grace she knew she could never mimic, slipped into her trousers and cupped her already wet pussy.
“Good,” he rasped into her ear. “I don’t want you thinking when I have my hands on you. I want you so fucking pleasured that even your thoughts melt.”
“Mm.” Lessia tangled her hands into his hair as two of his fingers slipped between her wet folds, then drove so deep into her she cried out at the pleasure. “I…”
Merrick crashed his lips against hers. “Don’t speak, my little fighter. I’ve told you before. With me, you don’t have to fight. Not for the world. Not for your orgasms. Not for anything.”
Lessia couldn’t even nod as he let his fingers slide almost all the way out, then slowly drove them into her again, stretching her so perfectly her cries mixed with moans.
“Fuck,” he drawled. “You’re already so wet.”
“I need you,” she whimpered, her pussy clenching around his skilled fingers. There was a desperation to her tone, one both she and Merrick knew came from her need to be distracted, and he didn’t disappoint when she added, “Please.”
“I told you, no begging,” Merrick growled. “I’m sorry I left you so long. Had I known you were this needy, I would have told them all to go fuck themselves.”
Merrick emphasized the words by mercilessly thrusting his fingers in and out. The wet slapping sounds as her pussy sucked him in and released him echoed through the sooty cabin, and she allowed her head to fall back against the wall when his thumb brushed her swollen clit.
Lessia sucked in air through her teeth, and Merrick laughed darkly before pressing harder on her sensitive bundle, causing her back to arch to allow him to thrust deeper—rub her sensitive spot harder—do anything he wanted to her.
He chuckled again as he added another finger, and his name fell from her lips at the delicious stretch, the warming in her pussy telling her she was getting closer.
The heat mounting in Lessia’s core burned hotter, and she started rolling her hips to meet Merrick’s hand, allowing him to penetrate her further, to curve his fingers, reaching that spot that drove her mad.
He groaned as her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling his face to hers, and she crashed her lips against his when the fire inside her rolled through her, spreading from deep in her gut out to every limb.
“Merrick,” she whimpered against his mouth as the first wave crashed through her body and he flicked her clit, curling his fingers so deep that the next cries that escaped her were only jumbled versions of his name as she came undone.
“Look at me,” he demanded, and her eyes flew open as she reached the climax of the orgasm, the sense of falling into his depths somehow making it more powerful as her walls closed around his fingers, strangling them until she saw stars.
She loved him so much.
She wouldn’t have believed anyone if they’d told her a love like this was possible.
It was endless.
Utterly and completely boundless.
“I love you, too, Elessia.” Merrick leaned his forehead against hers as she came down, his thick cock pressing against her thigh. “I love you so damn much, and that’s the only reason I am not ripping your clothes to shreds and fucking you against this wall right now.”
She smiled at him as he reluctantly set her down, a part of her wishing for the same thing—to just stay here and let the others deal with the aftermath of what had happened a week ago.
But they’d done that the past days, and now thudding footsteps sounded outside the cabin. So Lessia squared her shoulders and righted her clothing when first Raine and Kerym, then her sister and the witch sisters, approached the door to come get them for the meeting.
It was time to change Havlands into what she’d dreamed of.
The damned rain was relentless.
Raine wiped the back of his hand over his forehead, but it helped little against the heavy wetness weighing down his hair and seeping through his clothes until the leather stuck to his skin, making squeaking sounds for every step he took up the hill to the larger house they were gathering in.
Once again, he wished for a drink, probably for the thousandth time today… and it was only early afternoon. But he hadn’t taken a sip since that day in the Lakes of Mirrors.
He hadn’t been able to, not when the gods had shown him just how much Solana disapproved of it—how she felt him slip away every time he drank himself into oblivion.
Raine focused his gaze on the sooty stones scattered across the path, making sure they didn’t trip him as her beautiful face flashed before his eyes.
He’d let her down over the past years.
He’d known it, of course. While Solana wouldn’t say no to a drink here and there… she would never have let him continue doing what he was doing. Like Frelina, she would have confronted him—screamed at him to get it together.
More guilt crawled across his skin, the feeling almost as sticky as the leather scratching against it.
He’d promised Frelina not to pull away, but after that day… after the battle…
He’d thought he lost her, and it had damn near killed him. Raine had heard her desperate goodbye in his mind, the one where she asked him to apologize to her sister for slapping her that one time, and the one where she’d told him she was grateful for the time they’d had together, and for the experiences he’d given her.
As if he’d given her anything.
Fuck, he was such a bastard, and she didn’t even realize it because, like her sister, she was too kind. A bright light in the dark, he’d once heard Merrick think of Elessia as, and that was precisely what Frelina was. A shining fucking sun in a world where darkness reigned.
And Raine? Raine had just taken that light from her—used her to dull the pain he knew would never disappear. He’d fucked her—her first time!—after telling her he couldn’t give her anything more than that, that he couldn’t offer her love or even warmth and kindness in return.
Frelina had not just accepted it, she’d shown him she welcomed it. That she didn’t mind that he was broken beyond repair, and that she only wanted the same thing he did.
Company. Distraction. Someone to hold her during lonely nights.
For a few days, he’d been able to pretend that’s just what it was. Friends who fucked sometimes.
But during the battle? When her fear had roared in his mind, ripping through every other thought? No, he’d fucking lost it, and not because she was his friend. But because he didn’t want to live without the little angry Rantzier. Because despite what he tried to tell himself… his feelings for her ran deeper than he’d expected.
He hadn’t just been frightened—he’d panicked. Truly panicked when he thought she’d stopped breathing. And… fuck, he couldn’t lose another person he loved. He wasn’t strong enough for that.
Raine felt her eyes on his back right now from where she was walking beside those witch sisters, and it nearly sent him stumbling over a large boulder when he didn’t pick up a single feeling of blame or resentment from her over his avoiding her the past week. Only the kind of understanding that a Faeling who was twenty-four years old shouldn’t have.
Gods, he was four hundred years old, and he still couldn’t figure out how to talk to her. How to tell her that he wanted to be with her, but that he… just couldn’t.
Raine’s hands fisted as he glared at Merrick’s and Elessia’s clasped ones before him.
Frelina had told him she cared more for him—that she wished for more for them—during those final moments of the battle. There hadn’t been an ounce of fear or worry in her when she showed him everything in her mind, and he could fucking feel that she’d accepted it might not be something he wanted.
Another urge to drink dried his throat until he had to clear it.
The worst fucking part? It was reciprocated.
He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He’d fucking fallen for her when she’d started stomping on his feet, stepping into his way, yelling at him when he was a bastard, and keeping him from going mad—all because she was just… kind.
But he didn’t deserve her. What male fell for someone when he’d already met his soulmate? When he’d lost her? When it was his fault a soul much more deserving than himself now didn’t exist in this realm?
A grunt slipped past his lips as he kicked a rock out of the way, and Kerym’s hand landed on his shoulder.
“You all right?” His friend’s blue eyes held that darkness that had shaded them ever since Thissian—
Fuck. Raine’s throat closed as he thought of the friend, the brother, he’d spent centuries with—the one who was also more deserving than Raine. The one who’d carried his brother’s pain for years…
Kerym’s face pinched, and Raine could tell that while he wasn’t a mind reader, he’d seen too much in his expression.
“Sorry,” Raine mumbled, but Kerym shook his head.
“Don’t… Don’t be.” His eyes flew behind his shoulder for a moment, and Raine knew that if his own followed, they’d land on that strange woman—the one with copper hair falling down her back and eyes that never left Kerym’s. “I want to speak of him. I want the world to remember him. I… I need to remember him.”
Throat still clogged, Raine nodded. “As we always shall.”
A pair of amber eyes shot their way—thankfully not the ones that made Raine’s knees weak—and Elessia slowed her steps, Merrick following like the shadow he was.
“He was a good male,” she said softly. “I’ll never be able to repay that debt, but… if there is ever anything I can do for you, Kerym… I will. I swear it.”
Merrick seemed to be debating whether to kiss her or scold her for promising favors like that—even if they were for his friend—but Raine was grateful when he settled on pulling her closer and nodding. “He was one of the great ones, Kerym.”
The dark-haired Siphon Twin bowed his head. “Better than me, that’s for sure.”
Raine had to squash the urge to laugh that crept up on him.
Guilt. There was so much guilt in this sad group of people.
Everywhere he looked, guilt created creases between eyebrows, pulled lips downward, and made shoulders rise toward ears.
“Gods, we’re a miserable bunch, aren’t we?” he blurted out.
It was quiet for a second, and he winced at himself, ready to start another silent scolding or perhaps get another slap from the little Rantzier, when Elessia giggled.
Then Frelina’s beautiful laugh followed.
Merrick, who apparently couldn’t fucking help himself whenever Elessia smiled, turned his face away as a chuckle escaped him. Then the witches laughed softly, which somehow managed to make Kerym grin.
It was a ghost of a smile, but it was there. It was real.
Despite their wet surroundings, everything they’d faced and everything they would face, something small, barely a spark, flared in Raine’s chest, and he wondered for a second if he’d lost his mind—perhaps become entirely crazy.
Raine didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when a small hand touched his left arm, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking down. A jolt shook him when Frelina’s eyes locked with his.
Why not both? We really are a miserable bunch. Why not be crazy too?
That did it.
Raine threw his head back and laughed so hard that drops of water found their way down his throat, and he had to cover his mouth when they turned the laugh into a coughing fit, forcing him to wheeze to get any air into his lungs.
Apparently, the others found it hilarious because the laughter continued the entire time they climbed the steep, slippery steps to the large house looking out over the sea atop the high cliff.
Its stone walls were also darkened by soot, the roof charred and burned off in places, with several of the large windows missing the glass that must have once protected those living there from the harsh wind that always wrapped Korina.
The laughter faded only when two rows of guards forced them to walk one by one the final steps leading to the large double doors, one line made up by Loche’s men, still wearing those masks, and one made up by Vastala Fae, clad in their usual dark green uniforms as they glared at the humans before them.
Raine shared Merrick’s sentiment when the latter bared his teeth at the Fae, making two of them stumble back before Elessia shoved at him to stop. For some reason, Raine pulled Frelina up two steps so she walked ahead of him, his hand twitching to keep hold of those swinging by her sides.
You like her. Kerym’s thought burrowed through the walls Raine had put up.
The protection around his mind was weak—he usually allowed his friends in whenever they wanted, as the silent conversations were often entertaining—but it still left unease peppering his skin.
Yeah, I know I am an idiot. No point in lying to Kerym, not when he’d sense it in Raine’s thoughts.
No. A sweep of energy—of pain and guilt and protectiveness and whatever he felt for the small half-Fae walking over the threshold—left him, and he knew Kerym had siphoned it.
Wow, your senses are so clear. Kerym’s surprise bounced within Raine’s mind. And you’re not an idiot. At least not for the reasons you think.
Raine didn’t have time to respond as he also walked through the door and was met by hundreds of Fae and humans standing on opposite sides of the war-torn ballroom—or at least he expected it was a ballroom, based on the stage in the back, the small balconies jutting out here and there above a circular floor, and the charred tapestries still floating in the wind that the broken windows let in.
A few steps ahead of their people, Iviry and Loche stood face-to-face, waiting for their group to take up their spots, judging from the looks they threw their way.
The two leaders weren’t facing each other in the way Raine had expected, though, given what they’d found out about themselves. No, Iviry seemed as if she wished to be anywhere but in Loche’s presence, and the regent… his gray eyes were everywhere but on the red-haired female before him.
That’s what idiots look like.
There was an ember of amusement in Kerym’s tone, one that Raine hadn’t heard in days, and he cast his friend a quick grin before following Elessia and Merrick as they approached the Fae and human.
It might not have been visible to everyone, but Raine noticed Elessia hesitate, her eyes moving between the side with humans and the one with Fae, before Merrick brushed his fingers across her palm and she inclined her head almost imperceptibly.
Elessia walked into the middle of the room and halted between the leaders, and they remained quiet for a moment, seemingly waiting for her to choose a side.
To her credit, the golden-brown-haired half-Fae only raised her chin, pulling Merrick up beside her and placing him at Loche’s side while she waved for Frelina to stand at her other side, closest to Iviry.
When Raine took the spot right behind her, Elessia opened her mind for a second to say Thank you before nodding to Kerym, standing behind Merrick, and the witch sisters, standing behind Frelina.
“Should we get started?” she asked.
Raine hid any surprise that it was Elessia’s voice that boomed through the room. She was apparently taking charge, and given Iviry’s and Loche’s mirrored nods… they were fine with it.
Perhaps they had even waited for it.
She was incredible.
He could feel nerves battling against the determination within her, but outwardly, Lessia seemed calm—seemed like the leader he had always known her to be.
Merrick remained still at Loche’s side as Lessia filled her lungs with air before slowly releasing it and stating, “I know we have many things to decide on today, but the most urgent is what we should do with the prisoners. They can’t stay in those horrible cellars, chained to the walls while this storm drowns them. Our cabins are wet and cold, but at least they have whole roofs. Those cells… No.”
Lessia shook her head as she cast a few glances over the crowd on either side, where low mutterings rose, whispering across the room. The Fae and humans shot distrustful looks across the space as they mumbled to each other, and Merrick didn’t bother listening to what he knew would be stupid fucking conversations.
Even though it was early afternoon, the ballroom was cast in dim light, with only the fireplaces on opposite sides of the room adding any brightness. It contorted the many faces on either side of them, making the people staring at the group seem almost haunting.
The tension in the room rose after Loche nodded at Lessia’s words, and Iviry appeared to mull them over, her eyes flying to some of the
She shook her head at herself.
Since they arrived in Korina yesterday, she’d seen no one but Merrick, Raine, and Frelina, who were also staying in this small half-burned-down cabin with her. But even during the days before that—the ones where the soldiers of Ellow and the, albeit hesitant, Vastala Fae had joined forces to capture rebels and Oakgards’ Fae alike and decided to bring them to Korina, to neutral ground, until they knew what to do with them—people had stayed away from her.
She’d barely spoken even to her friends—Ardow, Amalise, Kerym, Soria, and Pellie—and when she had, they’d all looked at her differently after what had happened at the end of the battle.
There was a hushed, hurried tone to their words that she didn’t recognize, one that couldn’t be explained by the rush of trying to get prisoners and everyone else safely to Korina.
And even though their smiles were genuine, the feeling of relief that she was alive clear, something haunted flitted across their features every time they believed she wasn’t looking.
She’d seen Loche, as well, cast glances at her whenever they crossed paths, and although they hadn’t had time to speak—he was still regent of Ellow and their world was in turmoil, after all—she’d seen the worry, not for himself but for her, in his eyes.
The humans and Fae she didn’t know would barely look at her, walking in wide circles, even on the ships, to avoid her path. Even if she’d received a few fast, muttered thanks here and there in passing, they were often accompanied by an apprehensive glance and then rushing off to talk about her with someone else.
Casting her head back and glaring at the blackened beams lining the ceiling—the fires Korina had endured during the last war had painted them dark and murky—Lessia sighed.
She didn’t know what was worse: being shunned because she was half-Fae, ignored and cast aside, or being avoided because people were afraid of her.
Lessia didn’t even know what had happened. As soon as she’d jumped to her feet back on that ship, the thousands upon thousands of souls bowing to her had disappeared. Just evaporated as if they’d never even been there at all.
But they had. Even now, even here in this cabin, she could feel them.
She didn’t know how, but there was something—something different, something old—that had been awakened within her and made her pulse thrum a little faster, her heart beat a little harder. If she was entirely truthful, it was something a little too close to the power that she’d felt race through her veins when she’d held the wyverns’ souls in her hands.
She couldn’t shake it. Day and night, that sense was there—the foreign feeling sometimes consuming her, especially when the others avoided her and she had nothing to keep herself distracted. Even her dreams were haunted by the feeling—whispered sounds of “Queen” and a sense of urgency waking her up drenched in sweat.
She’d awoken several times from exhausted sleep, and she’d asked Merrick—who refused to let her sleep anywhere but in his arms—whether it was a dream, a nightmare? Every time he’d look at her for a moment, and she knew somehow he wished he could say yes, but then he shook his head and pulled her closer.
At least people avoided him as well. She’d seen the looks he received—not just from the Fae and humans and shifters they didn’t know, but from their friends.
Merrick had risked everyone for her, and she knew she should be angry with him. Livid really. But each time those dark eyes found hers—which was most of the time, since people left them alone—she couldn’t. Because she would have done the same for him, wouldn’t she?
That darkness that had driven her uncle to his power-hungry ways wasn’t mirrored in her. Not exactly. But there was another, selfish part of her that she let whisper to her only in the night, which knew that if she’d been in Merrick’s position, she would have compelled the damned gods to get him back. After just a taste of a world without him, she knew now that for him, she would have gladly ripped to shreds the realm that she was trying to save.
Lessia glanced out the window again, watching the dark clouds swirl around the equally dark island, casting shadows over the grimy soot covering every stone, every dead tree, and every narrow path winding outside.
Merrick should be back any minute now. He’d left earlier to check on Kerym, who’d barely spoken a word to anyone since Thissian’s death, making sure he’d join the meeting happening in an hour or so.
She sighed when unease whirled in her gut.
Today was the day the Fae and humans would get together to decide what to do next.
What Havlands would become.
Who would lead each nation.
What they’d do with the rebels, with the Fae who still sided with Rioner, with the Oakgards’ Fae—the hundred or so people they’d locked into the still-standing prison on Korina.
Lessia wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. Not only because she’d been asked to be part of each nation’s discussions, taking a leadership role in the cross-Ellow-and-Vastala council Loche aimed to build—as if she had any experience in what it took to lead a people—but because she disagreed with how the prisoners were being treated.
Sure, they might have all risked Havlands’ destruction…
But they’d done it out of desperation—out of belief that they were fighting for their own people, exactly like she and her friends were.
Throwing them into cellars like all the leaders before would have done?
No. It wasn’t what Lessia had hoped for.
She’d said as much when one of Loche’s men delivered a note asking for her participation in this council, and the soldier had returned only an hour later, informing her that Loche would ensure the people listened to her opinions during the meeting he’d organized.
She’d have to speak up about this today, and though she’d practiced with Merrick…
Lessia was terrified. She remembered the debates on Ellow—especially the horrible one with the nobles—and today? Today would be packed with nobles, both human and Fae. And not just them… but every person who’d stared at her when they thought she wasn’t looking, whispering their worries and fears to whoever was beside them.
That strange feeling roiled within her again—a mixture of cold and warmth whispering over her skin, raising the hairs on her arms—and she swallowed when something within her tugged, almost as if at her soul.
You can do whatever you want now. You’re stronger than anyone here.
It wasn’t a voice. Not really. But it was a feeling—the same way she felt Ydren and Auphore. The way she knew what they were thinking.
The wyverns…
Lessia shot a quick thought to Ydren—something she’d learned she could do when they were on the ships and Ydren showed up every time Lessia became too anxious—letting her know she was coming down the cliffs later, after the meetings.
For some reason, the wyverns had stayed after the battle, after what had happened to Lessia. She wouldn’t have blamed them for leaving, and she could tell there was some apprehension in Auphore when he’d spoken to her the evening she died and came back. But he’d only asked her what she wanted them to do, and Lessia had asked that they remain in Havlands.
The Oakgards’ Fae imprisoned in those cells were less than a hundred, and from what she’d understood, an entire army—a whole people—was on their way here to claim some land for themselves.
And while there hadn’t been more fighting… well, at least physical altercations, there was a lot of mistrust between the Fae and humans. Right now, Lessia struggled to envision a world where they could collaborate, even against a common enemy.
If they couldn’t get to that point before those ships arrived… the wyverns would be needed to keep those Lessia loved safe in the next battle.
An awareness, but not the uncomfortable one she’d recently been introduced to from whatever those souls were, pricked her skin, and despite everything going on, Lessia smiled.
Merrick.
She didn’t bother looking out the window as she rose from the dusty chair she’d been sitting on and sprinted to the door, slamming it open right as a wet Merrick reached for the handle.
His lips twisted to the side, but that didn’t stop the smile he tried to bite down as she threw herself into his arms, burrowing her face into his damp neck and whispering, “I missed you.”
Lifting her off the ground so she had to wrap her legs around his waist, Merrick claimed her lips, then moved to kiss her chin and her neck. After tugging at her earlobe, he rasped, “I missed you too.”
It was silly, but she had really missed him. It might have only been an hour, but after having felt what a world without him was like…
Merrick must have sensed where her thoughts went because his kisses became more urgent, more passionate, more heated as he carried her inside. When she responded with a feverish passion of her own, Merrick groaned. His lips didn’t leave her neck as he said, “Let’s skip the meeting. You already saved them once. Let them save themselves this time.”
A giggle stuck in her throat, interrupted by Merrick’s hands exploring her body as he pressed her against the wall beside the door, but she forced herself to respond. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” Merrick found her lips again, nipping at her bottom one before he continued. “Raine is with Kerym, and your sister is spending time with those witches. We’re finally alone.”
“Because”—Lessia sucked in a breath when Merrick found his way under her shirt, his thumb brushing her nipple until it hardened—“we can’t do that to Loche, or Iviry for that matter. They need us there.”
Iviry had been appointed interim ruler of Vastala the evening of Rioner’s death, her status as a respected commander untainted by the years she’d spent in hiding from the soldiers of Vastala who had accompanied Rioner.
Still, if the people of Ellow were conflicted based on the news they’d found out about Loche—that he was the son of the rebel leader, a halfling, as well as the news of what had happened between him and Lessia—the Vastala Fae were in uproar.
Their king had been murdered, and not just by anyone, but by his halfling niece. The same halfling niece who somehow had been ripped from death’s claws by the Death Whisperer and then proceeded to summon thousands of dead souls.
Or something like that…
Lessia didn’t exactly know what had happened, and she knew Merrick hadn’t brought it up because he’d sensed she wasn’t ready.
She didn’t blame the ones who called for her execution, but she had to give it to Iviry—the female knew how to gain respect. Iviry had beaten up a male who’d gone after Lessia one day on the ships, reacting at the same time as Merrick but hissing at him that this was her fight.
Then the fiery female had promptly thrown the attacker into the cellars with the other Fae who appeared too loyal to Rioner. She’d proceeded to send out several males with notes to Vastala to inform Rioner’s council and any other high-standing Fae what had happened, about Iviry’s interim leadership and plans to keep Vastala from being attacked, including how Lessia was off limits.
The one thing Lessia had going for her was that she’d saved the Reinsdors and their allies who’d been trapped behind that wave. Given the power the Reinsdors held in Vastala, they’d called for absolving Lessia of all blame, and while she knew many disagreed, they’d listened to Dedrick Reinsdor, the head of their family.
No one else had come after her after that.
Merrick’s teeth rasped against her collarbone, and she shook her head as she opened her eyes to his, her body again finding itself under his spell. Offering her one of his lethal smiles, Merrick pressed himself against her until she moaned at his hardness.
“You thinking of Loche when I’m doing this to you is making me a little jealous.” His teeth emphasized the statement, alternating sucking and biting on the sensitive skin at the base of her neck, and his hands became more possessive, one hand squeezing her breast until she squirmed and the other keeping a firm grip on her ass.
“I—” She took a deep breath when heat exploded within her core, shooting out in every limb. “I am not thinking…”
It was impossible to continue speaking, or even continue her train of thought, when Merrick’s hand left her breast, slid down her stomach, and with a grace she knew she could never mimic, slipped into her trousers and cupped her already wet pussy.
“Good,” he rasped into her ear. “I don’t want you thinking when I have my hands on you. I want you so fucking pleasured that even your thoughts melt.”
“Mm.” Lessia tangled her hands into his hair as two of his fingers slipped between her wet folds, then drove so deep into her she cried out at the pleasure. “I…”
Merrick crashed his lips against hers. “Don’t speak, my little fighter. I’ve told you before. With me, you don’t have to fight. Not for the world. Not for your orgasms. Not for anything.”
Lessia couldn’t even nod as he let his fingers slide almost all the way out, then slowly drove them into her again, stretching her so perfectly her cries mixed with moans.
“Fuck,” he drawled. “You’re already so wet.”
“I need you,” she whimpered, her pussy clenching around his skilled fingers. There was a desperation to her tone, one both she and Merrick knew came from her need to be distracted, and he didn’t disappoint when she added, “Please.”
“I told you, no begging,” Merrick growled. “I’m sorry I left you so long. Had I known you were this needy, I would have told them all to go fuck themselves.”
Merrick emphasized the words by mercilessly thrusting his fingers in and out. The wet slapping sounds as her pussy sucked him in and released him echoed through the sooty cabin, and she allowed her head to fall back against the wall when his thumb brushed her swollen clit.
Lessia sucked in air through her teeth, and Merrick laughed darkly before pressing harder on her sensitive bundle, causing her back to arch to allow him to thrust deeper—rub her sensitive spot harder—do anything he wanted to her.
He chuckled again as he added another finger, and his name fell from her lips at the delicious stretch, the warming in her pussy telling her she was getting closer.
The heat mounting in Lessia’s core burned hotter, and she started rolling her hips to meet Merrick’s hand, allowing him to penetrate her further, to curve his fingers, reaching that spot that drove her mad.
He groaned as her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling his face to hers, and she crashed her lips against his when the fire inside her rolled through her, spreading from deep in her gut out to every limb.
“Merrick,” she whimpered against his mouth as the first wave crashed through her body and he flicked her clit, curling his fingers so deep that the next cries that escaped her were only jumbled versions of his name as she came undone.
“Look at me,” he demanded, and her eyes flew open as she reached the climax of the orgasm, the sense of falling into his depths somehow making it more powerful as her walls closed around his fingers, strangling them until she saw stars.
She loved him so much.
She wouldn’t have believed anyone if they’d told her a love like this was possible.
It was endless.
Utterly and completely boundless.
“I love you, too, Elessia.” Merrick leaned his forehead against hers as she came down, his thick cock pressing against her thigh. “I love you so damn much, and that’s the only reason I am not ripping your clothes to shreds and fucking you against this wall right now.”
She smiled at him as he reluctantly set her down, a part of her wishing for the same thing—to just stay here and let the others deal with the aftermath of what had happened a week ago.
But they’d done that the past days, and now thudding footsteps sounded outside the cabin. So Lessia squared her shoulders and righted her clothing when first Raine and Kerym, then her sister and the witch sisters, approached the door to come get them for the meeting.
It was time to change Havlands into what she’d dreamed of.
The damned rain was relentless.
Raine wiped the back of his hand over his forehead, but it helped little against the heavy wetness weighing down his hair and seeping through his clothes until the leather stuck to his skin, making squeaking sounds for every step he took up the hill to the larger house they were gathering in.
Once again, he wished for a drink, probably for the thousandth time today… and it was only early afternoon. But he hadn’t taken a sip since that day in the Lakes of Mirrors.
He hadn’t been able to, not when the gods had shown him just how much Solana disapproved of it—how she felt him slip away every time he drank himself into oblivion.
Raine focused his gaze on the sooty stones scattered across the path, making sure they didn’t trip him as her beautiful face flashed before his eyes.
He’d let her down over the past years.
He’d known it, of course. While Solana wouldn’t say no to a drink here and there… she would never have let him continue doing what he was doing. Like Frelina, she would have confronted him—screamed at him to get it together.
More guilt crawled across his skin, the feeling almost as sticky as the leather scratching against it.
He’d promised Frelina not to pull away, but after that day… after the battle…
He’d thought he lost her, and it had damn near killed him. Raine had heard her desperate goodbye in his mind, the one where she asked him to apologize to her sister for slapping her that one time, and the one where she’d told him she was grateful for the time they’d had together, and for the experiences he’d given her.
As if he’d given her anything.
Fuck, he was such a bastard, and she didn’t even realize it because, like her sister, she was too kind. A bright light in the dark, he’d once heard Merrick think of Elessia as, and that was precisely what Frelina was. A shining fucking sun in a world where darkness reigned.
And Raine? Raine had just taken that light from her—used her to dull the pain he knew would never disappear. He’d fucked her—her first time!—after telling her he couldn’t give her anything more than that, that he couldn’t offer her love or even warmth and kindness in return.
Frelina had not just accepted it, she’d shown him she welcomed it. That she didn’t mind that he was broken beyond repair, and that she only wanted the same thing he did.
Company. Distraction. Someone to hold her during lonely nights.
For a few days, he’d been able to pretend that’s just what it was. Friends who fucked sometimes.
But during the battle? When her fear had roared in his mind, ripping through every other thought? No, he’d fucking lost it, and not because she was his friend. But because he didn’t want to live without the little angry Rantzier. Because despite what he tried to tell himself… his feelings for her ran deeper than he’d expected.
He hadn’t just been frightened—he’d panicked. Truly panicked when he thought she’d stopped breathing. And… fuck, he couldn’t lose another person he loved. He wasn’t strong enough for that.
Raine felt her eyes on his back right now from where she was walking beside those witch sisters, and it nearly sent him stumbling over a large boulder when he didn’t pick up a single feeling of blame or resentment from her over his avoiding her the past week. Only the kind of understanding that a Faeling who was twenty-four years old shouldn’t have.
Gods, he was four hundred years old, and he still couldn’t figure out how to talk to her. How to tell her that he wanted to be with her, but that he… just couldn’t.
Raine’s hands fisted as he glared at Merrick’s and Elessia’s clasped ones before him.
Frelina had told him she cared more for him—that she wished for more for them—during those final moments of the battle. There hadn’t been an ounce of fear or worry in her when she showed him everything in her mind, and he could fucking feel that she’d accepted it might not be something he wanted.
Another urge to drink dried his throat until he had to clear it.
The worst fucking part? It was reciprocated.
He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He’d fucking fallen for her when she’d started stomping on his feet, stepping into his way, yelling at him when he was a bastard, and keeping him from going mad—all because she was just… kind.
But he didn’t deserve her. What male fell for someone when he’d already met his soulmate? When he’d lost her? When it was his fault a soul much more deserving than himself now didn’t exist in this realm?
A grunt slipped past his lips as he kicked a rock out of the way, and Kerym’s hand landed on his shoulder.
“You all right?” His friend’s blue eyes held that darkness that had shaded them ever since Thissian—
Fuck. Raine’s throat closed as he thought of the friend, the brother, he’d spent centuries with—the one who was also more deserving than Raine. The one who’d carried his brother’s pain for years…
Kerym’s face pinched, and Raine could tell that while he wasn’t a mind reader, he’d seen too much in his expression.
“Sorry,” Raine mumbled, but Kerym shook his head.
“Don’t… Don’t be.” His eyes flew behind his shoulder for a moment, and Raine knew that if his own followed, they’d land on that strange woman—the one with copper hair falling down her back and eyes that never left Kerym’s. “I want to speak of him. I want the world to remember him. I… I need to remember him.”
Throat still clogged, Raine nodded. “As we always shall.”
A pair of amber eyes shot their way—thankfully not the ones that made Raine’s knees weak—and Elessia slowed her steps, Merrick following like the shadow he was.
“He was a good male,” she said softly. “I’ll never be able to repay that debt, but… if there is ever anything I can do for you, Kerym… I will. I swear it.”
Merrick seemed to be debating whether to kiss her or scold her for promising favors like that—even if they were for his friend—but Raine was grateful when he settled on pulling her closer and nodding. “He was one of the great ones, Kerym.”
The dark-haired Siphon Twin bowed his head. “Better than me, that’s for sure.”
Raine had to squash the urge to laugh that crept up on him.
Guilt. There was so much guilt in this sad group of people.
Everywhere he looked, guilt created creases between eyebrows, pulled lips downward, and made shoulders rise toward ears.
“Gods, we’re a miserable bunch, aren’t we?” he blurted out.
It was quiet for a second, and he winced at himself, ready to start another silent scolding or perhaps get another slap from the little Rantzier, when Elessia giggled.
Then Frelina’s beautiful laugh followed.
Merrick, who apparently couldn’t fucking help himself whenever Elessia smiled, turned his face away as a chuckle escaped him. Then the witches laughed softly, which somehow managed to make Kerym grin.
It was a ghost of a smile, but it was there. It was real.
Despite their wet surroundings, everything they’d faced and everything they would face, something small, barely a spark, flared in Raine’s chest, and he wondered for a second if he’d lost his mind—perhaps become entirely crazy.
Raine didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when a small hand touched his left arm, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking down. A jolt shook him when Frelina’s eyes locked with his.
Why not both? We really are a miserable bunch. Why not be crazy too?
That did it.
Raine threw his head back and laughed so hard that drops of water found their way down his throat, and he had to cover his mouth when they turned the laugh into a coughing fit, forcing him to wheeze to get any air into his lungs.
Apparently, the others found it hilarious because the laughter continued the entire time they climbed the steep, slippery steps to the large house looking out over the sea atop the high cliff.
Its stone walls were also darkened by soot, the roof charred and burned off in places, with several of the large windows missing the glass that must have once protected those living there from the harsh wind that always wrapped Korina.
The laughter faded only when two rows of guards forced them to walk one by one the final steps leading to the large double doors, one line made up by Loche’s men, still wearing those masks, and one made up by Vastala Fae, clad in their usual dark green uniforms as they glared at the humans before them.
Raine shared Merrick’s sentiment when the latter bared his teeth at the Fae, making two of them stumble back before Elessia shoved at him to stop. For some reason, Raine pulled Frelina up two steps so she walked ahead of him, his hand twitching to keep hold of those swinging by her sides.
You like her. Kerym’s thought burrowed through the walls Raine had put up.
The protection around his mind was weak—he usually allowed his friends in whenever they wanted, as the silent conversations were often entertaining—but it still left unease peppering his skin.
Yeah, I know I am an idiot. No point in lying to Kerym, not when he’d sense it in Raine’s thoughts.
No. A sweep of energy—of pain and guilt and protectiveness and whatever he felt for the small half-Fae walking over the threshold—left him, and he knew Kerym had siphoned it.
Wow, your senses are so clear. Kerym’s surprise bounced within Raine’s mind. And you’re not an idiot. At least not for the reasons you think.
Raine didn’t have time to respond as he also walked through the door and was met by hundreds of Fae and humans standing on opposite sides of the war-torn ballroom—or at least he expected it was a ballroom, based on the stage in the back, the small balconies jutting out here and there above a circular floor, and the charred tapestries still floating in the wind that the broken windows let in.
A few steps ahead of their people, Iviry and Loche stood face-to-face, waiting for their group to take up their spots, judging from the looks they threw their way.
The two leaders weren’t facing each other in the way Raine had expected, though, given what they’d found out about themselves. No, Iviry seemed as if she wished to be anywhere but in Loche’s presence, and the regent… his gray eyes were everywhere but on the red-haired female before him.
That’s what idiots look like.
There was an ember of amusement in Kerym’s tone, one that Raine hadn’t heard in days, and he cast his friend a quick grin before following Elessia and Merrick as they approached the Fae and human.
It might not have been visible to everyone, but Raine noticed Elessia hesitate, her eyes moving between the side with humans and the one with Fae, before Merrick brushed his fingers across her palm and she inclined her head almost imperceptibly.
Elessia walked into the middle of the room and halted between the leaders, and they remained quiet for a moment, seemingly waiting for her to choose a side.
To her credit, the golden-brown-haired half-Fae only raised her chin, pulling Merrick up beside her and placing him at Loche’s side while she waved for Frelina to stand at her other side, closest to Iviry.
When Raine took the spot right behind her, Elessia opened her mind for a second to say Thank you before nodding to Kerym, standing behind Merrick, and the witch sisters, standing behind Frelina.
“Should we get started?” she asked.
Raine hid any surprise that it was Elessia’s voice that boomed through the room. She was apparently taking charge, and given Iviry’s and Loche’s mirrored nods… they were fine with it.
Perhaps they had even waited for it.
She was incredible.
He could feel nerves battling against the determination within her, but outwardly, Lessia seemed calm—seemed like the leader he had always known her to be.
Merrick remained still at Loche’s side as Lessia filled her lungs with air before slowly releasing it and stating, “I know we have many things to decide on today, but the most urgent is what we should do with the prisoners. They can’t stay in those horrible cellars, chained to the walls while this storm drowns them. Our cabins are wet and cold, but at least they have whole roofs. Those cells… No.”
Lessia shook her head as she cast a few glances over the crowd on either side, where low mutterings rose, whispering across the room. The Fae and humans shot distrustful looks across the space as they mumbled to each other, and Merrick didn’t bother listening to what he knew would be stupid fucking conversations.
Even though it was early afternoon, the ballroom was cast in dim light, with only the fireplaces on opposite sides of the room adding any brightness. It contorted the many faces on either side of them, making the people staring at the group seem almost haunting.
The tension in the room rose after Loche nodded at Lessia’s words, and Iviry appeared to mull them over, her eyes flying to some of the
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A Fate so Dark and Delicate
Sophia St. Germain
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