Chapter

Thirty-One

S he woke late, finding the bed empty and the afternoon darkness already casting dancing shadows on the floorboards in her bedroom.

Amalise had left stew and a note on her desk—apparently, she’d tried waking her, but Lessia had slept like she was dead, and Amalise had promised to take the children out today and didn’t want to break that vow.

If Lessia had to leave before she returned, Amalise promised to come by the castle in the next few days, joking that she needed to meet up with a guard she’d spotted in the tavern last night.

Lessia shook her head and downed the cold stew, grateful that her stomach didn’t turn and that as she rose from the bed, her limbs didn’t feel as if they’d collapse after only a step.

After making her way to the large clothing chamber connected to her room, she eyed the sparse collection of clothes.

Lessia picked at the only two dresses she owned, both long sleeved and black, neither risking that a glimpse of her tattoo would peek through. They weren’t beautiful, not like the colorful dresses her friends owned, and definitely not in the style most women favored currently.

But she loved the silky material of them, and while they were simple, they fit her well. She’d rarely worn them, but Merrick had mentioned some type of social gathering, and her used leathers and thick tunics would probably be frowned upon there.

The comfort she’d felt being home made way for unease as she remembered the council coming into town.

She knew little of them, only that every member hailed from one of the old noble families in Ellow and that they’d fought tooth and nail to keep whatever power they could when the royals were overthrown.

Sighing, she stuffed one of the dresses and a matching pair of heeled shoes into a small satchel.

Like Craven, these men and women abhorred the Fae, and she didn’t expect any of them to support her nomination.

After rummaging through the kitchen and finding little more than stale bread—which she still stuffed into her mouth, as hunger gnawed at her despite the stew she’d eaten—Lessia walked down to her study.

All her papers were neatly stacked, and she noticed Ardow had worked away on the pile of orders she’d left behind.

A smile pulled at her lips as she traced her finger over his neat signature.

While she wished he’d been here, as she missed him, she was glad he’d found someone. She promised herself she’d seek him out over the next few days and try to learn more about the mystery man or woman who kept him so busy.

The dagger Zaddock had picked at when she was last here with him glinted in the light from the lantern she carried. Taking out the one she had tucked into her waistband, she compared them .

Lessia frowned when she found them nearly identical.

Only the amber stones in the one her father had gifted her marked the difference between the two Fae weapons.

As if they’d been forged by the same blacksmith.

But it made sense.

Merrick was in the king’s employ, and like her father, he would surely have access to the best weapons masters in Vastala—the ones only the king, his court, and his closest guards could utilize.

She braced herself against the table when an onslaught of memories overwhelmed her.

Her father’s broad grin as he handed the dagger over, promising her he’d teach her how to use it.

Her mother’s soft smile as Lessia squealed and jumped up and down, excited to finally be considered old enough to carry a weapon.

And her sister’s sullen expression when she glared at them all—declaring she was only one year younger and she should also be allowed one.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she drew deep breaths until their faces blurred.

She’d managed to keep these memories at bay for years.

Her family was gone, and there was no need to dwell on the past.

She couldn’t change it.

Couldn’t change what had happened.

What she’d done to them.

Picking up the daggers, she slid both of them into her waistband, shuddering when the cold blades caressed her skin. Casting a final glance around the room, Lessia made her way out.

Amalise and the rest were still not back. There were no sounds of soft footsteps as Lessia put her ear to the wall where the hidden living quarters lay, so she squared her shoulders and walked out into the cold night.

Few people walked the icy roads as she approached the tall castle, but she still drew up her hood, eager to avoid another run-in with the townsfolk.

When she opened the metal gates to the courtyard, ten guards lined the stone path to the wooden double doors. The light from the lampposts played on the intimidating masks that half of them bore, marking them as Loche’s men.

Her eyes lingered on the mask of the guard closest to the gate, the almost birdlike beak jutting out beneath the two dark holes where his eyes must be, and a chill crawled over her skin.

When she’d disembarked the ship that first day in Asker and two of Loche’s men instantly approached her, she’d nearly gotten right back onto it.

Only the blood oath had kept her feet planted on the human isle.

King Rioner’s guards had terrorized her enough during the years on the streets, and when she landed herself in his cellars…

They were the reason she’d caved when the king offered her the blood oath in exchange for freedom.

A few of them were mental Fae, and their ability to inflict excruciating pain by forcing her to relive her worst nightmares, over and over, made her beg for physical torture instead on the days they got bored and entered her cell.

Lessia rubbed her arms as she pushed the thoughts from her mind.

While she’d learned Loche’s men, and even the navy soldiers, were nothing like the Fae king’s, she still preferred to stay out of their way.

None of the guards spoke as she passed, but she nodded once in thanks when one of them, bearing the golden pin of Stellia’s company on his chest—a gilded sail resting upon his heart—opened the heavy doors to let her in.

He briefly met her eyes, a flicker of recognition shining in his brown ones, as he stepped back once more, taking up his post outside.

Voices drifted through the hallway from the dining room, and she hesitated beneath the stairs, wondering if she should brave the other nominees to try to find out more about what to expect tomorrow.

But when Craven’s shrill voice rose over the murmurs, she thought better of it and took the stairs two steps at a time.

Still not ready to face her bedroom, Lessia decided to find that balcony again.

It was a clear night, and there had been little wind during her walk, so spending a few moments staring out over the sea would hopefully not deplete her meager reserves of energy.

After a few wrong turns, moonlight finally spilled onto the floor before her, and she drew a deep breath of salty air as she opened the glass doors and stepped onto the balcony.

Taking cautious steps over the slippery stone until she reached the railing, she watched as waves softly caressed the high cliffs the castle was built upon.

“And here I thought you’d finally come to your senses and taken your leave.”

With a low groan, she turned around as Loche confidently strolled onto the balcony, making his way to the railing and hoisting himself up, his legs dangling over the steep drop.

“Is there anywhere in this castle where people leave you alone?” Lessia glared at him.

There had been a few guards stationed in the hallways she’d walked to get here, but it’d been entirely quiet in the one leading to this balcony.

Loche swept his inky hair out of his face. “Yes. ”

When she eyed him to continue, his mouth twitched, and she groaned again.

Lessia debated whether to go back to her room, but she didn’t want to lie awake in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, especially after the unwelcome memories that had clouded her mind back in the office and in the courtyard.

She had been here first.

So Lessia moved a few feet away, leaned against the railing again, and fixed her eyes on the silver-painted sea.

“How did you and your blonde friend meet?”

Snapping her head to the side, she met his scrutinizing gaze. “Now you talk to me?”

Loche’s jaw clenched. “It would seem so, yes.”

“You ignored me for a week. Why talk to me now?”

When his eyes narrowed, hers slitted right back.

She truly didn’t understand this man’s intentions.

Their eyes stayed locked for a few moments. Loche’s features remained hard, and his jaw squared while his eyes burned into hers as if he were trying to read her mind.

Sighing through her nose when she realized he wasn’t going to offer her a response, she finally broke their stare off, glancing down at her laced fingers. “We met at a ball.”

“Shocking,” Loche scoffed.

Lessia shrugged, shaking off the feeling of embarrassment that threatened a blush creeping up her neck.

He was supposed to think she was merely a floozy.

That she continued to feed into it was the only way to keep her private business safe.

“And Ardow?”

She wasn’t surprised Loche knew his name. Ardow managed a lot of their tavern business, and he’d met with Zaddock and many other men in Loche’s employ when she was busy .

Peeking at him, she found Loche’s eyes glued to her as if he wanted to see every thought crossing her face.

She made sure her face remained neutral as she responded. “In a tavern.”

“You seem close.”

“You seem like you’re stalking me.” Lessia glared at him.

His eyes trailed over her face. “I told you. I’ll find out why you’re here.”

Lessia ignored the current of apprehension skittering down her spine as she realized he must have been having her watched at all times.

She needed to be careful when she went back home.

Clearing her throat, she forced her voice to remain strong. “Let me know when you do.”

Nodding to himself, Loche shifted on the railing.

“It’s slippery, you know,” Lessia couldn’t stop herself from warning, even if a small part of her wouldn’t mind seeing fear slip across those hard features.

One side of his mouth quirked up. “I like the risk. Makes me feel alive.”

Of course he did.

When his eyes drifted ahead again, the intense warmth from them leaving her face, she blew out a soft breath, shifting her gaze to the stars winking above the castle.