Page 39

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

L essia stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours until a soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

She didn’t bother responding, but Merrick opened the door between their rooms anyway.

Keeping her gaze on the wooden beams, she said, “I’m not going.”

She’d had enough of name-calling and cruel glares for the day.

She didn’t need to endure a whole night of it as well.

“I didn’t think you’d break that easily.”

Merrick walked up and, to her surprise, sat down on the edge of the bed. His large frame shifted the mattress, so she nearly rolled into him, and Lessia braced herself with her hands against the soft bedding.

“They don’t want me there, and I don’t believe it’s actually mandatory for the election, so what does it matter if I stay here.”

She almost wished she would cry then, shed at least one tear to relieve the lump that seemed to have taken up a permanent position in her throat.

Merrick tapped his fingers against his knee. “Don’t let them win, Lessia. You have every right to be there.”

She shot up, staring at the side of his head, at the silvery lashes dancing across his high cheekbones.

“Do I? I am literally here to spy on them, Merrick. They should be outraged with me. I’m a traitor.

They wouldn’t just call me names if they found out.

They’d execute me. And who could blame them? ”

When he tensed, she realized what she’d just done.

She’d just told the king’s right-hand man that she considered herself a traitor to Ellow.

That she considered this her home enough to feel guilty.

If he told the king, Rioner wouldn’t stop at the loose instructions he’d given her when she saw him last. He’d give her detailed instructions for how to spy, what to ask, how to ask for it.

But Merrick didn’t storm out to immediately send a message to the king.

Instead, he sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees, resting his head in his hands.

“You don’t need to feel guilty, Lessia. You’re only doing this because you are loyal to your real king, isn’t that right?”

When she remained quiet, he asked again, “Isn’t that right?”

Lessia nodded but realized he couldn’t see her movement from the way he was facing, so she got out a croaked “Yes.”

“Good. I’ll send the king an update that while you won’t be the next regent, you’re doing everything you can to find out information. You are, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

At least everything she could while keeping Ellow and her friends safe.

Merrick lifted his head from his hands and nodded. “Now, put on whatever nice thing you have in that closet, and let’s go down. I don’t believe some crude humans can break you, not after everything you’ve been through.”

“Will you come with me?”

She didn’t know who was most surprised, herself, at the words that left her mouth, or Merrick, whose brows flew up so high they almost reached his hairline.

He rose from the bed, offering her his hand.

“I’ll wait outside your door.”

She let him drag her upright, and her eyes tracked his broad back as he left her room.

When the door closed behind him, she walked up to the rounded mirror beside the clothing chamber and stared at the dusty reflection.

Her cheeks were hollow, eyes slightly sunken in.

But that was to be expected after two weeks without food.

She pulled out a small cosmetic pouch and dabbed a bit of color onto her cheeks and pale lips, then grabbed a brush and dragged it through her hair a few times.

She picked up a silvery comb Amalise had gifted her, then pulled her hair back and fastened it. The ornament wasn’t as elaborate as Malain’s gilded ones, but it complemented her golden-brown hair and comfortably kept it out of her face.

Merrick was right.

She wouldn’t break because of the council’s—or anyone else in Ellow’s—reactions.

They were justified, after all.

Although she was doing everything she could to ensure these people remained safe while spying on them…

She was still spying on them .

As she pulled out the black dress, her mind replayed the debate, the matters that had been discussed.

Even if they had included her, she wouldn’t have known what to say. Many of the concerns discussed were foreign to her, and she wasn’t even sure what her opinions on them were.

Slipping out of her breeches and tunic and pulling the dress over her head, Lessia promised herself that she would read up on each one.

Not for a chance to win this election.

But if she was to stay here, she should be more informed about the land’s issues. She might have opinions on how people like herself and the half-Fae she brought over should be treated, but if she didn’t know how society worked, she could never change it.

After a quick glance in the mirror, wincing at how plain she looked, Lessia squared her shoulders, made sure her sleeves safely covered her tattoo, and walked out the door.

As promised, Merrick waited right outside in the same clothing he’d worn to the debate, even if she knew he had other, much more elaborate pieces.

She doubted it was for her benefit—to make her feel more comfortable—but regardless, it lifted her spirits.

Surprise made her brows pop when he offered her his arm, but she still took it.

Even if he was hardly a friendly face, she could pretend for tonight.

“You look like you’re going to a burial. I suppose it’s fitting.”

She threw a glare his way and snarled softly, “If you had to hide the lovely tattoo your king graced me with, you would also have to be careful with how you dressed.”

His jaw flexed, the arm she was holding tensing, and she wondered if she’d gone too far. But Merrick only rushed his steps, nearly having her fall in the stupid shoes she’d paired the dress with.

Like many women, she loved beautiful clothing and would have done much to be able to wear one of the fashionable dresses other women did.

But the shoes she could do without.

She didn’t mind the additional height they gave her—she had come to terms with the fact that human women would almost always look dainty next to her—but did they have to be so damn uncomfortable?

As they took the final steps down to the sitting room, delicious smells that made her mouth water washed over them. Lessia picked up the smell of bread, of meat and vegetables, but it was the sugary scent of cakes and pastries that made her stomach rumble loud enough for Merrick to scoff.

“What?” she hissed. “I am starving. I didn’t eat anything but snow for two weeks, and you wore me out this morning. My body needs the energy.”

Shaking his head, he dragged her toward the sitting room.

Lessia couldn’t stop her mouth from falling open when they entered through the double doors, where dozens of guards stood posted outside.

The room had been completely transformed.

Gone were the couches and plush chairs; instead, the room was filled with table after table of food and drink. The walls were covered in sparkling silvery tapestries, and a circular rug in the same material decorated the center of the room.

To their right, there was a whole orchestra, the music softly weaving its way through the room. Couples already braved the dance floor, their bodies swaying gently in rhythm with the melody.

She gripped Merrick’s arm tighter when he made to step away.

“Let’s get some food. Even the mighty Fae must eat sometimes,” she whispered.

A sigh escaped him, but he led the way toward the overflowing tables.

Warmth trailed over her face when they navigated through the crowd, and she searched the faces, expecting a hostile glare from one of the council members.

But her eyes met Loche’s with a jolt, and she raised her brows at the thunderous look on his face. When Merrick pulled at her so she wouldn’t bump into a dancing couple, she tore her eyes away, still sensing his glacial eyes tracking her movements.

As they reached the tables, she suddenly wasn’t so hungry, trying to understand why Loche, yet again, looked like he wanted to kill her.

She let go of Merrick, picked up a beautifully decorated cake, moved to lean against the wall, and took small bites, barely tasting anything of the sugary decadence.

Merrick took up the spot beside her, and she rolled her eyes at how awkward his “casual” stance looked. Even resting against the wall, every muscle in his body shifted under his clothing, his head subtly tilting to pick up conversations in every corner of the room.

She let her eyes drift toward Loche again.

He’d moved his gaze to Zaddock, with whom he was holding a passionate, whispered conversation. A frown slipped across her face when Zaddock threw his arms out and Loche took a step toward him, hardness lining his jaw.

When Zaddock placed a hand on his shoulder, Loche threw it off. The former shook his head and stormed out of the room, his black cloak trailing behind him .

Leaning against the wall opposite her, Loche lifted his face, and Lessia snapped her eyes to the dance floor, where more couples now filed in.

The music shifted to a slower song, and she watched Craven offer his hand to a woman who seemed to be his wife, her long hair sparkling with silver. Venko also pulled a beautiful blonde with him, spinning her expertly around the circular dance floor.

People at all the tables around her began pairing up, men bowing to the women, who giggled and let them lead them to the already dancing couples.

She glanced at Merrick, who hissed, “Don’t even think about it. I don’t dance.”

Sighing, she watched couple after couple join, the laughter from the women as the men spun them humming softly over the beautiful music.

A wave of wistfulness washed over her.

She’d always loved dancing and music.

There hadn’t been a day growing up when her mother hadn’t been singing in the kitchen until her father pulled her into his arms and swung her around.

And they’d always let her and Frelina join; Frelina, who sang as beautifully as their mother, who’d tried to teach Lessia to sing until they figured out it was hopeless.

She could dance, though. Her father had let her stand on his feet before she could even walk, and after that, he’d practiced with her whenever she wanted.

Lessia tilted her face to the floor and ground her teeth as the lump from earlier returned in full force. She should be grateful she’d had such a beautiful childhood, but there was only pain whenever these memories surfaced.

She’d ruined everything .

“May I have this dance?”

Her eyes flew up, and her mouth fell open when Loche bowed before her.