Chapter

Eighteen

L essia stomped up the stairs to her room, not bothering to check if her evil shadow followed, and threw herself on the bed.

What was Loche’s damn problem?

It’s not like he had been the obvious choice in the election last time, from what she’d gathered about him.

A bastard-born orphan who’d come out of nowhere shouldn’t be the one to judge her this harshly.

She could understand Craven, a noble whose family had influence over Ellow even before the royals were overthrown and who probably still harbored a deep hatred for the Fae because of the destruction they’d caused during the war.

Even though he really should be blaming the shifters—the ones who’d deceived them all, turning Fae and humans against each other before either realized they were being played—she could understand that the Fae had been the reason for so many lives lost.

But Loche?

She didn’ t understand it.

Groaning to herself, she rose from the bed. It was still early evening, and there was no way she could sleep.

Picking up the lantern from her nightstand, Lessia wandered aimlessly around the castle for hours.

All the long hallways looked the same—white, polished stone, small balconies jutting out over the sea, and lanterns that hung on the walls every few feet.

It was only the paintings that made her understand she was yet again walking through a hallway close to her room.

One of the larger ones was a drawing of Havlands, and she traced her finger from Asker, the capital and largest island in Ellow’s vast archipelago, in the north to Vastala in the south and over the many smaller isles between them—about half of them in human territory and the rest in Fae lands.

In the east lay Korina—the shifter isle—but it was veiled in shadows in this painting. Lessia guessed it made sense. The Fae and humans burned it to the ground during the war, and it wasn’t habitable.

When her lantern sputtered, she replaced it with a fresh one from the wall. But she still wasn’t tired, so she opened the glass doors to a wide balcony beside the painting, drawing a deep breath of salty air.

The sea was wild tonight, with white froth foaming over the crashing waves, mirroring the snow covering the cliffs beneath the balcony.

After setting down the lantern on the ground, Lessia let her hands glide over the icy railing, tracing the sparkling ice as she lifted her face to the sky.

She was glad for the lantern she’d brought, as the thick cloud bank that had drawn in didn’t let a single star or any stream of moonlight through, lying like a heavy blanket over Asker.

A whisper of awareness made the hair on the back of her neck rise, and without turning around, she hissed quietly, “I can feel you watching me, Merrick. I know I haven’t made much progress, but it’s been a day.

I’ll spend two weeks locked in some cabin with them.

I’ll find out the information our king seeks before that time is up. ”

“Brave of you to speak so freely when anyone in this castle could hear you. Or perhaps it’s stupidity. You seem to have a penchant for it.” Merrick’s voice grew louder as he stepped onto the balcony.

She slowly turned around, leaning against the railing and enjoying the wind blowing through her unbound hair.

Merrick lingered by the wall, his legs crossed as he rested against it, but his hands were balled into fists, so tight his knuckles blanched.

“You plan on hurting me again?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and she prepared herself for the pain, the cold from the railing biting into her back and the waves crashing onto the cliffs below echoing in her ears.

Merrick shook his head. “Step away from the railing, Elessia.”

Narrowing her eyes, she watched him closely. “Why?”

A growl rumbled in his chest, so loud she could almost see it vibrating through him. “Why do you ask so many questions?”

“Because you’re so pleasant to talk to, of course. I truly can’t get enough.” Lessia grinned to herself, glad he couldn’t see it.

It felt good standing up to the bastard males who seemed to believe they could order her around and treat her as they pleased.

The election was only beginning, and she was already sick of them.

She had enough guilt and worry and shame to carry .

She didn’t need cruel words and vile bullies making it worse.

He growled again. “Just step away, Elessia. It’s slippery out here. You wouldn’t want to fall, would you? Weren’t the warnings of accidents occurring enough?”

“Careful, Merrick. That sounds a lot like caring to me,” she purred, her smile widening when his body tensed and his lips twisted into a snarl.

It honestly might be worth him killing her to get under his skin like this.

His voice was glacial when he responded. “I couldn’t care less if you fall to your death, but my king made me promise to keep you alive for now. Get. Off. The. Balcony.”

She shuddered when his magic whispered over her skin, gripping her by the neck and pushing her forward.

Lessia struggled for a bit—mostly to anger him further—but she was cold anyway, so after a moment, she raised her hands and approached the open doors.

Thankfully, he let her go as soon as she took the first step inside.

“Calm down, Death Whisperer. Wouldn’t want you to have a heart attack.” She nearly reached out to pat his shoulder before she caught herself.

She’d probably wound him up enough for now.

“Don’t call me that.” Merrick followed her so close that his breath fanned over her neck.

“Don’t call me Elessia, then. I don’t go by that name anymore.”

“Why?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” she parroted.

Merrick remained quiet behind her, and she braced herself for his magic. But when the dark magic didn’t layer over her shoulders or take her breath, Lessia hesitated, her steps slowing.

“Because Elessia died in Vastala. I’m not the same person anymore.” She surprised herself when words left her mouth, and halted outside her bedroom door.

She could feel Merrick behind her, hear the rustle of skin against fabric as he shifted.

With her hand on the doorknob, she quietly said, “My family called me Elessia. I can’t stand to hear it from anyone else.”

When he still didn’t respond, she turned around.

Merrick stood so close that his leathery scent engulfed her. It had a wild edge—as if his entire being was poised to charge—but she didn’t back down; she only angled her face up toward him.

If she were full Fae, this might have been the perfect moment to force his eyes to hers, but he was undoubtedly stronger, so there was no point in risking it.

Instead, she pulled on the last bit of patience she harbored, exhaustion sweeping through her like the wintry wind on the balcony. “We’re going to be stuck together for a few more weeks, Merrick. How about you keep that scary magic of yours to yourself, and I’ll follow your stupid orders?”

She eyed his sharp features until he dipped his chin the tiniest bit.

Lessia let out a breath.

It wasn’t much, but she’d take it.

“Great! Well, I’m—”

A scream echoed between the stone walls, and they both tensed before Merrick flipped around and sprinted toward the sound with Lessia on his heels.

When they turned a corner, Merrick halted so fast she nearly slammed into his back .

Before them, two navy guards had Craven pushed up against a wall, one of them holding a knife to his throat.

“Shit,” she breathed. “We need to help him.”

But Merrick remained frozen, and when Craven screamed again, his eyes flying to hers, she reacted before she had time to think.

Overtaking Merrick, she leaped forward and smacked the two men’s heads together so hard they both crumpled to the ground.

Lessia stared at the motionless men with wide eyes, but when she noticed their chests move, she let out a huff of relief.

Craven pushed himself off the wall and stumbled to stand beside Merrick, who’d followed close behind her. The noble clasped at his throat, where a few drops of blood trickled down, and his eyes flared as he flicked them between her and Merrick.

Steps approached them, and soon Loche and Zaddock appeared, followed by Stellia, Frayson, and several guards.

“What happened?” Frayson glared at them. “Why are you bleeding, Bernedir?”

Craven dropped his hand from his neck and pointed to Stellia. “She sent her fucking guards after me. They cornered me as I was going to bed and told me they were going to kill me.”

“What? No, I didn’t! Frayson, I would never.” Stellia stepped around Loche and Zaddock, who urgently whispered to each other, too quietly for Lessia to make out the words.

Frayson’s brows drew together. “Are these not some of your closest guards, Stellia? Why would they attack Bernedir?”

Lessia tensed. She also recognized the guards’ uniforms and Stellia’s company symbol on their chests .

Fear flitted over Stellia’s face as she took in the men. “What… They’re not supposed to be here. I don’t know why they would do this, I swear.”

Frayson shifted his gaze to the many guards that now surrounded them and inclined his head.

Two guards immediately stepped up to grab Stellia while a few others picked up the two unconscious soldiers and made their way down the hallway.

“I’m sorry, Stellia. You know the rules: you cannot harm another nominee. You’re eliminated from the election.”

“No! Frayson, you know me! You’ve known me since I was a child. I would never do this!” Stellia fought against the guards as they began to pull her away. “Karli!”

Her accompanying guard unsheathed his sword as he stalked closer to Stellia.

“Let her go,” he said quietly. “We’ll leave, but you will take your hands off her.”

Frayson nodded once, and the guards released her into Karli’s arms. The guard cradled her against his chest as he started to stalk out of the castle.

Sobs racked Stellia’s body as she glared at them over his shoulder. “You will regret this, you know. It wasn’t me, Frayson,” she got out before they rounded the corner.

When Lessia took a step to follow her, Merrick gripped her shoulder.

“Don’t,” he hissed softly. “Don’t draw attention to yourself right now.”

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to still.

She couldn’t believe Stellia had done this—regardless of what Craven might have done to her.

But a small voice inside her whispered that Stellia had warned her against underestimating her .

Lessia didn’t know what to believe as she sliced her gaze across the lingering group.

Loche also observed them all with narrowed eyes, and when they met hers, they narrowed further.

Lessia didn’t know why, but she shook her head as he continued to eye her, and after a moment, he moved on.

“Will you live, Bernedir?” Frayson asked.

The old man nodded, and without another word, he stalked into his room and slammed the door.

Loche and Zaddock soon disappeared as well, with Frayson following and the rest of the guards taking up posts outside their rooms.

As Lessia made her way to her room, her mind still spinning, she turned to Merrick. “Where were the guards before? I didn’t think of it, but I didn’t see any of them when I wandered around the castle.”

Merrick licked his lips, and her eyes fell on his tongue, flicking one of those sharp canines. “I don’t know. Perhaps Stellia had them removed from this wing before she sent her guards after Craven.”

He didn’t sound convinced, and Lessia’s brows drew down.

Opening his door, Merrick said quietly, “No more walks without me, Lessia.”

Then he walked inside, shutting it softly behind him.

She couldn’t stop her lips from curling.

He’d called her Lessia.

At least she was making some progress.