Page 27

Chapter

Twenty-Six

L essia angrily shifted the fire, energy like she hadn’t had for days bristling under her skin when Venko and Craven walked through the door. The old man stomped through the room and up the stairs, but not before she caught a glimpse of his bright red cheek.

Despite everything, she smiled to herself.

He deserved it, deserved even worse, but she wouldn’t bother wasting any more time on him. She’d be prepared next time, wouldn’t hesitate to use her magic to convince him to use those daggers on himself.

Venko made his way over to her, and her eyes slitted when he chuckled as she bent down to count the branches before the fire.

“That was the best entertainment I’ve seen in years.” Venko slumped down on the creaking couch, patting the seat beside him. “You should sit down. Rest. You might have adrenaline running through those veins of yours right now, but you’ll crash soon. You need to preserve your energy. ”

Shaking her head, she glared at him. “I still need to get more firewood. This won’t last us through the night.”

“Where do you think Loche is?” Venko grinned. “Your little show must have drummed up some energy in him as well. I nearly saw him smile as he stalked off deeper into the woods.”

She frowned. “Are you sure?”

The daylight was already dimming—the sun only stayed up for a few hours this deep in winter—and she didn’t want to have to go out in the dark again.

“I’m certain. Come on. I’ll get us some water.” Venko motioned to the seat next to him again, but Lessia ignored it and eased down in the spot on the floor she’d barely left since they’d come here.

Her eyes trailed Venko as he rose and grabbed her cup to fill it with snow, then set it down together with his own to melt before the fire.

“Why are you being nice to me?” she asked cautiously.

Venko wiped his palms on his tan tunic. “Because we’re on the same side.”

As he sat back down on the couch, she frowned at his pristine boots and the expensive leather of his breeches.

She needed to figure out why he was here.

Needed to ask the right questions.

“And what side is that?”

“The same one.”

She groaned. “What does that mean?”

Venko shrugged. “It just means we’re on the same one.”

“What would you do if you won the election?” Lessia shifted to be able to study his face.

Venko met her eyes, a spark of surprise flashing in his gaze when he responded. “I’d make sure what’s been wronged is made right. ”

Wrapping her arms around her knees, she asked quietly, “What has been wronged?”

“You should know better than anyone, Lessia.”

She ground her teeth. “Stop being vague. Tell me what has been wronged.”

“The people who are in power.” Venko dragged a hand through his hair. “They’re what’s wrong.”

Lessia cast a quick glance at the door. “Do you mean Loche?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Clenching her fists so not to raise her voice, she shifted onto her knees. “You must know if you’re here.”

“I’m only following the orders I was given.”

“And what are they?”

“To participate in the election, win if I can.”

She frustratedly pulled at her greasy hair.

He was telling her nothing.

Casting another glance at the door and behind the couch at the staircase, she tugged on her magic, the warmth of it thrumming over her skin, warming her far more than the fire behind her.

“When you find out more, you will tell me. Now, forget we had this conversation.”

Venko nodded with glazed eyes, and she pushed her magic deep down.

It wasn’t difficult. Without food, even that little bit of magic drained her; the energy she’d gained from fighting Craven had quickly vanished.

With a sigh, she shifted back to lean on the couch, pulling up her legs once more.

After a few moments of silence, Venko yawned.

“I think I need to lie down. We don’t eat the best out to sea, but going without food like this is truly awful.

And after going outside… I feel like I might die.

I wouldn’t have gone if it didn’t sound like the whole ceiling was caving in when all that snow crashed down onto it.

Good thing too. You might not have been sitting here otherwise. ”

Lessia remained quiet when he rose on shaky legs and made his way to the stairs, walking with heavy steps up to his room.

After adding the last branches to the fire, she watched it until her eyelids became heavy as shadows fell across the room.

Forcing herself to straighten, she blinked, stretching her arms over her head.

She couldn’t fall asleep yet, not without knowing Loche would actually bring firewood back. Even then, after what happened today, she’d have to be on her guard.

She lifted the cup Venko had left by the fire, took a few sips, and poured the rest over her head.

The cold water immediately snapped her out of her drowsiness.

“I guess that’s one way to stay clean.”

Lessia turned her head to the door, where Loche strode into the cabin, his arms full of wet branches.

She rose and started toward him to help, but when he jerked his head dismissively, she faltered.

Lessia lingered by the couch, eyeing him as he spread out the wood on the floor. The firelight flickered on the muscles playing beneath his damp tunic, and she couldn’t stop herself from trailing her eyes over his large frame.

He really was tall for a human.

Her height rivaled that of most human men, but Loche towered over her. And coupled with all those muscles …

She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had some Fae blood in him.

When he cleared his throat, she shifted her eyes to his, her face heating as he raised a brow.

“I was just—”

She swallowed when he started to remove the tunic, leaving his tan chest on full display, all the while keeping his steely eyes on hers.

Loche took a step toward her, and she backed up, placing the couch between them and fixing her eyes on the floor.

“Please,” she whispered. “I don’t have the energy for your games tonight.”

Her muscles tensed when she heard him inch closer.

“Stay back, Loche,” she warned, but her voice betrayed her, exhaustion seeping into it and making it waver.

The heat from his body enveloped her as he stepped into her space, but Loche didn’t crowd her. Instead, his fingers gently cupped her chin and tipped her head up, his eyes slamming into hers before trailing over her neck.

“You’re covered in blood.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

Despite the warmth from his fingers, goose bumps rippled across her neck as he leaned in to examine the wound, his hot breath fanning over her sensitive skin.

When he tilted her head farther, she sucked in a shallow breath, and his grip on her chin tightened.

“It’s not deep,” he murmured, eyes colliding with hers again. “But you’ll want to clean it so it doesn’t get infected. All that sawing has me sweating. I was going to use the snow outside to clean up. You should do the same.”

Releasing her, he took a step toward the door.

When Lessia remained frozen in place, he arched one of his dark brows. “You coming? ”

Blinking a few times to clear her mind, she took a step toward him.

He was probably right.

They still had a week here, and she could do without being covered in crusty blood.

Or dying from infection.