Chapter

Seventeen

A s Lessia sat down in one of the plush chairs before the fireplace, Merrick slipped up behind her. He rested his hands on the back of the chair, his fingers brushing her shoulders as if to warn her to play along.

Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees and fixed her gaze on Frayson, who remained standing before the fire, the flames softly crackling behind his gray cape.

“Tomorrow, the election formally begins.”

Frayson let his gaze sweep across all of them before he continued.

“As per tradition, you will be living in a cabin in the woods, a day’s ride from the city, for the next two weeks.

Your escorts may transport you there, but they are not permitted to aid beyond that, although they may stay in the guard quarters should they wish.

There will be no food provided. Nor are you allowed to bring any.

And be prepared for the living arrangements to be uncomfortable, to say the least. Your stay is supposed to symbolize how the people of Ellow had to flee into the perilous wilderness with nothing but the clothes on their backs—to let you experience the hunger and danger they faced. ”

Lessia tensed as she met Frayson’s eyes.

There was a reason they stayed out of the woods, why the people of Ellow ventured to the sea for food. Dangerous animals roamed free there, as they had since the beginning of time. Although they didn’t intimidate her nearly as much as being alone in a cabin with these people for a fortnight.

“What if we get injured?” The man she didn’t know spoke up, and there was a slight tremor in his voice.

“I’d suggest you do not leave the cabin, but in case you can no longer participate, there is a signaling horn. Should you blow it, you forfeit your nomination, and a guard will escort you back to the city.”

“And there will be no guards in the cabin?” Craven asked, throwing a smirk her way that made Lessia flash her teeth at him.

“No guards are permitted close to the cabin unless the horn is blown. But you do well to remember, Bernedir, if you’re caught harming another nominee, you will be eliminated.

There are no exceptions.” Frayson glanced between them, his soft eyes lingering on hers for a moment longer than she was comfortable with.

“When do we leave?” Stellia seemed completely at ease where she rested in her chair, inky hair splayed out over the fabric and swirling a goblet of wine.

“At dawn. If you don’t show up, we’ll assume you’ve left the elections,” Frayson responded.

When they nodded, Frayson glanced Lessia’s way again.

“The rules are simple enough. You may bring whatever clothing you choose to wear, but nothing else. No one is allowed to help you, and you may not leave the woods unless you decide to leave the election. If there are no more questions, I shall bid you good night and good luck.” Frayson patted the back of Loche’s chair before he strode out of the room.

“Perfect!” Stellia exclaimed. “We have a whole night to revel. Come on, boys. I’ve been at sea for too long. I need one more night of glory before misery begins once more.”

Lessia’s eyes widened when the entire group rose to follow the captain. Even Craven stretched his limbs, although he seemed less than amused.

“You, too, Lessia! I’ve heard your parties are legendary and that you can drink three full men under the table. Time to show off.” Stellia winked.

Shaking her head, she made to rise when Loche spun around and growled, “No.”

Forcing herself not to falter, and with Merrick close behind, she slowly walked up to him until she was only a foot away.

Lessia lifted a hand and poked him in the chest, noting how tense the muscles were beneath his leather tunic, even if his expression painted him as bored.

“What is your problem? I haven’t done anything to make you dislike me.”

She mentally applauded herself when her voice stayed strong.

Apparently, ignoring or being nice to him wasn’t working. Perhaps if she served him the same treatment as he did her, he’d at least respect her.

“Come on, Loche. She won’t bother anyone.” Stellia placed a small hand on his shoulder.

But Loche ignored her, only kept staring daggers at Lessia. “I said no, and it’s final. She’s not coming.”

She narrowed her eyes, keeping his gray ones hostage.

Loche glared back at her, and the mumbling around them quieted as their eyes battled in silence.

She would not give in.

Loche’s face showed no emotion as his eyes burned into hers, and she kept her own features blank, fighting against the thoughts that swirled inside.

What had she done to him?

She had never spoken to him before today, and he acted as if she deeply insulted him by her mere presence—as if she’d committed a grave personal offense.

A small voice in her mind reminded her that she was there to spy on him—that her king had her betray all Ellow by forcing her to do this.

A wince twisted her features, and Loche’s eyes flared triumphantly.

“Fine!” Lessia snarled as she averted her gaze. “I’m going to bed anyway.”

When Loche spun around, she couldn’t stop herself from hissing “Bastard.”

Turning his head over his shoulder, he smiled, a vicious hint to the curled lips. “I’ve been called worse, darling.”

She balled her hands to restrain herself from slapping him across his smug face.

Peeking around him, Stellia winced. “Sorry, Fae-girl. Maybe next time?”

She didn’t have time to respond before Loche dragged Stellia with him out the door, slamming it right in her face.