Page 25

Chapter

Twenty-Four

W hen Lessia finally walked inside after gathering more firewood, she shivered, and her hands had a sickly blue cast. Even though it was a sunny day, the wind was merciless, and swirls of snow had kept layering over her as it blew between the trees.

Venko waved at her from where he sat at the table, but she didn’t miss the sour glance Craven shot her when she walked over to the fireplace to set the wood down to dry.

The men were drinking again, and while she rarely drank more than a cup of ale or wine, the sight of the amber liquor intensified the ache that had started in her stomach. Having kept busy for a few hours, she’d been able to ignore it, but now a hungry roar rumbled through her body.

“You should have some. We have you to thank for being able to stay warm.” Venko lifted a broken cup, and despite the daggers Craven stared at her, she walked over and snatched it, then settled with her back against the wall.

Lifting the cup with stiff fingers, she sniffed the contents, barely holding back a wince at the harsh smell .

“It’s not drugged.” Loche stretched his hands over his head, and as she cautiously glanced his way, she was grateful to find he’d slipped into the worn leather tunic he’d worn when they rode here.

Nodding, she took a small sip and savored the warmth filling her gut.

While it would probably feel even worse tomorrow, she knew that anything that gave her a bit of energy would help in the days to come, all too familiar with the pain, then the euphoria, then the numbness that came from starvation.

They remained quiet as they drank, and when the little light the day had brought shifted into darkness, shadows veiling the men’s faces, Craven first, then Venko, went up to bed.

“One more?” Loche wagged the near-empty bottle, and despite the cup she’d drunk already starting to go to her head, she nodded.

Rising from his chair, he filled her cup with the rest of the liquor, keeping his eyes on hers but not crowding her space again.

When the last drop trickled from the bottle, Lessia averted her eyes and headed back to claim her spot before the fire. She sat down on the floor and wrapped her arms around her legs, her eyes trailing the sparking flames as they licked the wood.

The warmth from the liquor as she took another sip fueled her gratefulness.

It hadn’t been the cold, the starvation, or even the beatings that nearly killed her during the years in King Rioner’s dungeons.

It was the all-consuming darkness and choking silence.

They’d forced her to delve into the deepest parts of her mind.

Into the memories she’d do anything to erase, into the guilt and shame and anguish at what she’d done to her family.

Even though tonight had been quiet—a loaded silence, even—she hadn’t minded it.

Keeping an eye on the fire, and an eye on the men, distracted her enough not to start down that shadow-filled path.

“You’re sleeping down here again?”

Lessia didn’t turn her head around as she responded. “Someone needs to keep this fire going, since apparently none of us know how it was actually started.”

Loche didn’t respond, so she took another sip from her cup and leaned her head back on the couch, wondering what Ardow and Amalise were doing right now.

She could imagine them in the kitchen or perhaps in the bar area with people they’d brought home, and the ache in her stomach was replaced by one in her heart.

Taking another sip, she forced it away.

She was doing this for them. She needed to ensure Ellow remained safe from King Rioner, and if being here for a few months was the price to pay, she’d gladly do it.

Especially if she could also win her own freedom.

“What is it you think I could do better?”

Lessia jerked when Loche’s voice ripped her from her thoughts, the liquor in her cup sloshing, nearly spilling over her hand.

Looking over her shoulder, she eyed him where he stood behind the couch, his hands resting on the back of it. When their eyes locked, his held the same intensity as always, but his face was softer.

Or perhaps the shadows masked his usual stony expression .

“What do you mean?” Lessia turned to rest her arm on the couch, looking up at him.

He tapped his fingers against the couch. “You said I’ve done good things, but I could do better. So tell me, what would you have me do?”

A frown formed between her brows. “Are you trying to unsettle me again?”

Loche’s mouth twitched. “Not at the moment. But don’t worry, I will keep at it until I figure you out. I am merely curious. You are a resident of Ellow, after all. I do listen to my residents.”

Fidgeting with her cup, she assessed him, but no smirk marred his face.

Lessia coughed when she took another gulp of burning liquor.

“I do think you’re doing good work. I mean, no one likes taxes raised, but you seem to disperse them to the people who need them.

Still, there are people who don’t benefit.

No one would employ me when I arrived here, and it’s been the same for all with Fae heritage.

It’s as if we aren’t also human. My friend is only a fraction Fae, and he still couldn’t find work before we bought our first tavern. ”

She waited for him to make a snide remark, but Loche remained quiet as his eyes traveled across the room.

As she was about to turn back to the fire, he finally responded.

“I don’t agree with that, but I don’t make all the decisions.

The council is filled with nobles, and they still hold a grudge against the Fae for everything that was lost in the war.

You’d think they’d mostly be concerned with the lives lost, but to them, it was the Fae that forced the royal family off the throne and thus limited their power. They don’t forgive easily.”

Lessia played with the frayed hem of the couch cushion. “ Most of us weren’t even born then, and we still pay for what our ancestors did. I’d like to change that.”

Surprised at her own words, she turned back toward the fire, her brows drawing close.

Maybe there was a way to change the future for the children she’d brought here. Make sure they didn’t have to work in her taverns or with Ardow in the office but have the opportunity to choose whatever path they’d like to take.

She couldn’t do it herself, but Loche would likely win this election.

And he could.

“What was it like for you in Vastala?”

Spinning back to face him again, she raised a brow at the curious expression lining his face. “What’s with all these questions?”

He shrugged, his jaw ticking. “I told you, I’m just trying to figure you out.”

But his eyes betrayed him, something she didn’t fully understand flashing in them before he turned and slowly made his way to the staircase.

When he lingered beneath the stairs, his shoulders tight, her face softened.

“You’re lonely.”

Right now, he reminded her of Ardow, and a shiver of sympathy danced down her spine. Ardow never wanted to be alone—he would rather sleep on her floor than in his own room. Apparently, the broody regent wasn’t looking forward to his room either.

Glancing at her from over his shoulder, he smirked. “I’m not lonely, darling. I have everything I want.”

Shaking her head, she watched him scale the staircase until his dark hair disappeared behind the bend.

That was his first lie.