Page 12

Chapter

Eleven

H er heart beat a frantic rhythm, and Lessia pulled her black cloak tighter around herself as she ascended the three steps leading onto the stage.

As if some fabric might protect her from what was to come.

Unrelenting eyes tracked her every move by the time her foot reached the second step, and whispers rippled through the crowd.

“What is she doing?”

“She’s a damn halfling…”

“The one behind her must also be part-Fae. Look at his hair.”

Lessia nearly turned around then, but Merrick’s magic still danced across her skin, forcing her feet to keep moving—to take the final step. She held back a shudder—even though his lethal powers were invisible, she felt as if they would permanently mark her skin unless he released her soon.

Her insides twisted as she made herself turn around to face the now-seething crowd .

You’re doing this for your freedom. You’re doing this for your friends. You’re doing this to protect Ellow. She repeated the words to herself as she fixed her eyes on the icy building before her, ignoring Merrick hovering behind her like a deadly shadow.

Lessia cleared her throat. “I’m Lessia. Some of you might know me from frequenting my taverns. I’m officially nominating myself for regent.”

The crowd was silent for a beat, and she nearly blew out a breath of release even though no applause followed her declaration. But as she was about to join the rest of the nominees, a wave of shouts shattered the silence.

“This can’t be legal!”

“She’s Fae. She has no business leading anything in Ellow!”

“Get her off that stage!”

“Better yet, arrest her!”

Someone threw something onto the stage. The object hit her square in her chest, and the pain that stabbed at her heart wasn’t from whatever had struck her but from her mistake of glancing down—of seeing the turmoil and the faces flushed with rage glaring back at her.

A hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her back as more objects landed on the dais. She let whoever it was drag her backward, her eyes cast down.

“Keep your head up,” Merrick growled in her ear. “Don’t let them see it affect you.”

Clenching her fists, she forced her eyes up, not letting them focus, trying to keep the crowd before her blurred.

She needed to keep up appearances, needed to pretend she wanted this, but when familiar faces—regulars in her taverns—came into view, her face scrunched at the disgust contorting their features .

She’d known this would happen, but she was still surprised at how quickly people she’d served for years turned against her.

Another hand clasped her shoulder, and she met Frayson’s pale blue eyes.

“Head on back to the others,” he said softly.

Frayson surveyed her for a moment, his eyes inquisitive as they trailed her face and then behind her over Merrick. Nodding, almost as if to himself, Frayson approached the roaring crowd.

Merrick’s hair glittered like the frost lining the houses around the square as he led the way toward the back of the dais, and Lessia made herself keep her eyes on him instead of meeting any of the stares from the nominees.

Drawing deep breaths of chilling winter air, she finally took a spot beside Stellia, who glanced at her with narrowed eyes. But when Lessia shot her a look, only curiosity filled Stellia’s gaze before she offered a brief head tilt and shifted her eyes forward again.

Merrick seemed to vibrate beside her, but her shoulders loosened slightly when she realized he’d released the death grip his magic had held her in.

“What are you doing?” she whispered through her teeth when his body continued thrumming, his power rolling off him in silent whispers.

She didn’t dare glance at the others beside them.

Even if humans didn’t have magic themselves, there was no way they wouldn’t notice the deadly energy crackling in the air.

Merrick didn’t bother with a response, but the buzzing quieted just in time as Frayson got the crowd under control.

The old man threw out his hands. “While it’s unconventional to have half-Fae participate in our elections, the law clearly states that any member of Ellow’s society is eligible. And many of us know Lessia. She’s lived here for years and has always paid her dues.”

When the grumbling returned, Frayson raised his voice. “Enough! She shall be allowed to partake. This is an election, people. And as every other year, you will vote in the end.”

Remember why you’re doing this.

She tried to focus on Ardow’s and Amalise’s faces, on Kalia and Ledger and everyone else back at the house, when the weight of hostile stares pressed down on her like a dark cloud.

You cannot let them down.

Glares and cruel words were a small price to pay to keep her loved ones safe.

Lessia lifted her chin an inch when eyes burned into the side of her face and she couldn’t stop herself from glancing their way.

Loche stared at her with unnerving scrutiny, raising the hair on the back of her neck. Her senses blared with warning when he openly dragged his gray gaze over her black cloak, her simple black tunic, and the leathers she wore underneath.

When his stormy eyes met hers again, his dark brows rose in challenge.

Biting her cheek, she kept his unwavering gaze for another moment before tearing her eyes away, focusing on Frayson again.

Loche was clearly trying to unsettle her.

But if she’d just survived what she hoped would be the worst part of the election, a man was the least of her worries.

Stealing a glance at the raging Merrick, whose eyes were everywhere but on hers, a shiver snaked down her spine .

She had much bigger problems.

Still, as Loche’s eyes remained fixed on her the entire time Frayson spoke, unease roiled in her gut.

She didn’t need yet another enemy.