Page 34

Chapter

Thirty-Three

W hen she pried her eyes open, her throat felt like sandpaper. Thankfully, she found herself back in her brightly lit bedroom—every lantern she’d smuggled in kindled.

Lessia’s pulse was still heightened as she sat up, casting a quick glance around the room.

Merrick sat on a chair by the door between their rooms, his usually flowing hair tangled and his hands clenching and unclenching where they rested on his knees.

“That’s the second time I’ve carried you.” Merrick laced his fingers, leaning forward so his messy hair covered most of his face.

Her cheeks heated, but Lessia forced herself not to cast a snide remark in his face.

She cleared her throat and mumbled, “Thank you.”

Merrick let out a low hum as he rose to light a new lantern to replace one that was burning out. After placing it on the small bedstand, he returned to the chair, his dark boots firmly planted on the wooden floor, hands dragging down his face .

Lessia eyed him. “You’re not going to ask me what happened?”

When he lifted his head, her heart skipped a beat, but Merrick’s eyes remained cast down as he shook his head.

Frowning, she pushed off the blanket draped over her. “Why not? You must be reveling in this. You’ve found another way to threaten me—without using your magic and risk being exposed.”

Flames of anger licked her heated neck.

She needed to have better control over this—over herself.

It wasn’t just Merrick who’d found out her weakness.

Loche’s strong arms flashed before her eyes, his voice whispering into her ear as she lost her mind to the darkness.

“I already know what happened.”

Her gaze, which had been focused on a small tear in her cloak, snapped up. “What do you mean?”

Merrick raked his fingers through his long hair and seemed to hesitate for a moment before he quietly responded. “I was there that day.”

Eyes widening, Lessia shifted so her legs swung over the bed. “What day?”

As if he could sense her movements, Merrick’s back straightened. “The day they pulled you out of that cellar.”

Every muscle in her body locked, and she couldn’t stop the onslaught of memories that washed over her.

A creaking door fully opening for the first time in five years, the useless resistance she’d put up as they dragged her out of there.

She’d thought King Rioner’s men had finally decided to execute her.

But when light blinded her and a voice she knew all too well broke through the excruciating pain from the sun, the king offered her a deal .

She’d get out of the dungeons—alive—if she only swore a blood oath to him.

Starved, scared, and desperate, she’d agreed far more quickly than she was proud of.

She’d been on a ship to Ellow less than a day after.

Finally gaining control over her mind, she forced her eyes to focus on the Fae before her. “I don’t remember seeing you there.”

Not that she had been able to see much.

It had taken days for her eyes to get used to light again.

She’d never let them forget after that.

Only when she closed them to sleep did she allow darkness to fester.

On the bad days, she couldn’t even allow that.

“The king wanted me there, so there I was.” Merrick rose to pace back and forth before the flickering fireplace.

“Ever the good soldier,” Lessia muttered, but when Merrick’s hands clenched by his sides, his steps faltering slightly, her brows snapped together.

Before she could ask what was on his mind, a knock had them both freeze. Merrick’s sword was already in his hand, and his gaze locked on the door.

Freeing her daggers from where they poked her hips, she rose from the bed and followed Merrick as he approached the door.

He moved like a predator, his steps entirely silent and his body tense as he tilted his head to listen. Lessia perked her ears as well, but whatever had Merrick lower his shoulder didn’t reach her half-Fae ears.

Spinning around, Merrick hissed, “Don’t let your guard down. I don’t wish to save you a third time,” before he stalked over to their adjoining door, opened it, and slipped inside so quickly she barely caught his cloak billowing after him .

With her mouth open, she turned toward the door, a curse slipping from her lips when Loche’s sharp glare met hers.

She started closing the door, but his hand gripped it, forcing it open.

“Tsk, tsk. That was rude. While the election might be ongoing, I am still regent, and this is my castle.”

Loche strode into the room, closing the door behind him as Lessia backed up, tightening her grip on the daggers.

She had no idea why he was here, but she was done taking any chances.

Grudgingly, she admitted that Merrick might be right about making sure she kept her guard up at all times.

Loche’s mouth twitched when he glanced at her hands, then let his gaze sweep across the room, lingering on the many lanterns lining the walls, the bedside table, and the small desk.

He pulled out the chair Merrick had just sat on, spun it around, sat down, and rested his arms on the back of it.

Loche flicked his dark hair out of his face. “Scared of the dark. I should have guessed in the cabin.”

She didn’t respond, only backed up until the cold wood of the wall bit into her back.

His storming eyes swept over her once more, his features softening slightly. “I am not here to hurt you, darling.”

Biting her lip, she narrowed her eyes as his gaze focused on the sharp canines she was sure he glimpsed. “Why are you here?”

Loche leaned his chin in his hands. “I’m not entirely sure.”

A flicker of something she couldn’t quite read raced across his features.

“I don’t like it,” he muttered.

A weak smile spread across her face. “The infamous Loche Lejonskold isn’t sure of something? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Rolling his eyes, he gestured toward the bed. “You should sit down. After an adrenaline rush like you just had, you’re probably about to crash any moment.”

Her first instinct was to argue, but her limbs felt heavy, so she cautiously made her way to the bed, keeping her eyes on Loche’s the whole way.

After propping up a pillow against the wall, she lowered herself down and placed the daggers on the mattress beside her.

Loche continued to eye her, a wrinkle between his brows.

When she couldn’t stand the silence anymore, Lessia pulled at a strand of her hair. “What happened tonight? Why would Stellia’s guards attack?”

Shrugging, Loche tore his eyes away from hers. “I’m sure there will be a briefing soon where they’ll tell us what they think happened.”

“What they think—” Lessia started, but Loche interrupted her.

“Why were you a prisoner?”

Her pulse quickened, and she fixed her gaze on her hands, trying to straighten the wrinkles on her cloak from the day’s wear.

When she lifted her gaze again, Loche’s slammed into hers with so much force she sucked in a breath.

Grinding her teeth, she responded quietly, “I did something bad.”

Loche tilted his head. “How bad?”

“Bad enough.”

Lessia groaned silently.

She wanted to forget all about her time in the king’s cellars and any time before .

Lately, everything seemed to stir the memories she’d worked so hard to bury.

“Did you kill a Fae?”

Understanding glimmered in his eyes when she tensed.

“You did. Did he deserve it?”

She was surprised at herself when she nodded.

But he had deserved it.

He might not have gotten to her, but she’d heard all about his reputation on the streets, what he’d done to Kalia…

No, she didn’t regret making him take his own useless life.

“You lived on the streets in Vastala.”

Even if it wasn’t a question, she nodded again.

“Why?” There was only curiosity in Loche’s eyes when she met them.

“I did something even worse.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she drew a shaky breath, not understanding what drove her to be so honest with him.

“I tend to have that effect.” Loche smirked.

But it wasn’t his usual smirk.

It wasn’t lined with smugness or even ridicule—there was more of a softness to it.

Rising from the chair, he pointed to the bed beside her. “Do you mind?”

Averting her eyes, she shrugged and moved to the far side of the bed.

Closer to the door, should she need to get out of there quickly.

The bed shifted when Loche sat down, and the scent of him immediately enveloped her.

If Merrick smelled like wilderness, Loche smelled like brightness. Like a cold winter night when the huge moon and millions of stars lit up the sparkling snow.

Wrapping her arms around her knees, she made herself draw air through her mouth, keeping one eye on the man beside her and one on the door to her right.

“What did you do that was so bad?”

Her teeth slammed together as she refused to let the images pressing at her mind surface.

Still, golden-brown hair, brown eyes full of life, and a heart-shattering laugh made their way through. Her sister’s smiling face was like taking a dagger to the heart, and she swallowed hard when her body began shivering.

As Lessia began to shake her head, another knock, harder this time, sounded.

At the same time Zaddock peeked through the door, Merrick stalked into the room.

Flicking his gaze between the three of them, Zaddock waved. “There is a briefing happening right now. All nominees are to attend.”

Loche gracefully got up from the bed but shifted his gaze to hers once more. “You got lucky this time.”

Then he followed Zaddock out of the room.

With a tense Merrick beside her, Lessia fell into step behind him.