Page 46

Chapter

Forty-Five

“ I am not going next. I don’t care if you eliminate me. You bastards broke her! This did not happen to anyone last time. What was it, a way for the guards to get back at the Fae?”

Lessia pried her eyes open, meeting Loche’s feral ones where he towered over one of the guards that had stood along the walls in the cellar room.

Loche’s eyes widened when they found hers, and he pushed the guard out of the way to stalk over to her, ignoring him as the guard argued that it was his turn.

“Stay back. I will not warn you again, regent.”

Shifting her gaze up, she realized Merrick’s furious face was inches from hers and that the comfortable place she rested was in his arms.

Blinking hard to clear her blurry vision, she glanced around.

A healer sat crouched down beside her.

Merrick sat against the wall, and her body lay atop his lap.

“I don’t take orders from you, Merrick. You’re the one who did this!” Loche’s eyes were black as he dropped down on the other side of the healer and cupped her chin with his hand.

Her eyes followed his fingers as they shifted a strand of wet hair away from her face, then traced her aching jaw, a shiver running through her when his finger trembled.

A warning growl vibrated in Merrick’s chest, and Lessia winced when it shifted her body and jolts of pain shot from her ribs.

“You men need to stop this right now. She is hurting, and you are making it worse,” the healer ordered.

“It is your turn, regent. You must come at once, or you will forfeit your participation.” The guard Loche had screamed at eyed them cautiously.

Ignoring both of them, Loche leaned in farther, eyeing her surely bruised face, then trailing his eyes down her body, his hard features twisting.

But when his eyes met hers again, only concern flared in them.

Lessia cleared her throat. “I’ll live, Loche. You need to go.”

He really did.

Because if he wasn’t elected, she feared Craven might be the one to rule Ellow.

And there would not be a place for her or her friends here then.

He stared at her with those all-too-knowing eyes. “I won’t let them get away with this, Lessia.”

When she nodded, he touched her cheek, then rose and walked into the hallway, not responding to either the guard or Zaddock as they tried to speak to him.

“How are you feeling?” Guilt lined every word of Merrick’s question.

She forced a smile, even if he wouldn’t see it. “I’m fine. A few broken ribs and fingers aren’t the worst things that have happened to me.”

“You’re going to be fine, dear. But you need to rest.” The healer glared at the guards in the room. “She is not to stay here. I demand she is to be taken to her chambers.”

The snarl that left Merrick when a guard dared to argue that all nominees were to wait until the last one was finished made a shiver skitter down her neck.

When the guard backed away, Merrick carefully rose, keeping her steady in his arms as he spun around and headed upstairs.

His power thrummed through him and over her body with each step away from the cellars, anger, guilt, or perhaps both keeping his magic close to the surface.

“Perhaps I needn’t ever walk again. You’re becoming quite good at carrying me. What is it? The third time?” she tried to joke when low growls continued to stir in his chest.

Merrick didn’t respond.

He only scaled the stairs, taking three or four steps at a time.

His arms remained steady, though, his grip on her never wavering, and even when he kicked the door to her room open while snarling at a guard to bring food and wine immediately, he didn’t hurt her further.

More gently than she could ever imagine the Death Whisperer moving, he set her down on the bed, checking on the bandages the healer had wrapped over her black tunic—another reason she was grateful he was there—and lit every lantern in her room, then went to the fireplace.

Roughly shifting some of the firewood, he lit the fire faster than she’d ever seen anyone do, and her eyes widened as the hot flames licked the sooty stone.

“It was you,” she whispered.

Merrick froze, crouched down by the white fireplace.

“You lit the fire in the cabin.”

“You don’t seem to do so well in the dark,” he muttered as he rose to walk back and forth in the room, dragging his hands through his hair.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

While she had no idea why he’d done it, why he’d been looking out for her already then, before they’d formed whatever kind of friendship this was, she was grateful.

She wouldn’t have survived those weeks in the woods without it.

“Why are you thanking me? I hurt you today, and it’s not the first time, nor is it likely the last. You should despise me. Or at least be frightened of me.” Merrick slumped down on the chair before the balcony door, covering his face with his hands.

“You don’t scare me, Merrick. At least not anymore.” She pressed on a sore spot on her cheek. “I know you tried not to hurt me today. You could have done much worse. And you’ve helped me as well. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“Why are you defending me!” Merrick raised his voice, and she jerked, holding back a groan when pain spiked from her ribs.

“I am evil, Lessia. I’m the Death Whisperer, for gods’ sake.” He lifted his head and gestured to her chest. “I did that!”

“Merrick…”

Lessia’s brows rose when he hid his face in his hands again, his shoulders slumping.

She couldn’t even comprehend being frightened of this Fae anymore.

He was nothing like the rumors .

Nothing like what he had been the times they’d interacted before the election.

When he began shaking his head, she cleared her throat. “You do not need to feel guilty. I am a bad person. I have done horrible, horrible things. This, and whatever else the king has planned for me… I deserve it. I deserve every single moment of pain life brings me.”

His hands muffled his voice when he responded, “You are good , Lessia. Remember that I have watched you for almost five years. You treat every person you meet with kindness and respect. You rarely use the gift you’ve been given by the gods, even though it could make your life so much easier, and even me—even the Death Whisperer—you treat with compassion.

What could you have done that’s so bad?”

“I killed my sister.” She sucked in a sharp breath as the words left her mouth.

She hadn’t meant to blurt them out, but she couldn’t stand seeing the guilt lining his shoulders.

Not when every broken bone, every bruise she was dealt was deserved.

A dry sob escaped her when Frelina’s beautiful face slammed into her mind, the memory of what she’d done to her flashing before her eyes.

When Merrick remained quiet, she forced herself to continue.

“My gift, as you call it. It’s no gift. It’s a curse.

Like everyone else who’s half-Fae or more, I couldn’t wait for my twelfth birthday to see what gift might manifest. A few months after my birthday, nothing special had happened, and I was growing surlier by the day.

Frelina, my sister, was my constant shadow, like I guess most younger siblings are.

She annoyed me to no end, and this particular day, I wanted to ride alone in the woods by our home, and she kept following me. I got angry and… ”

She drew a shaky breath, her voice barely a whisper as she continued. “I… I told her to jump off a roof or something, and her eyes glazed over. I didn’t think much of it then, but when I returned that evening, my parents were distraught. She’d jumped off the roof of our house.”

“Lessia…” Merrick shifted toward her.

“I couldn’t bear the look on their faces when they realized it was my fault. I was terrified, and I didn’t know what to do. So, I told them to forget about me, forget I’d ever been their daughter. And then I left for Vastala. I suppressed my magic for years. Until that night…”

A humorless laugh escaped her. “I used it once—one time—in Vastala to kill a guard that kept attacking the female half-Fae in the streets, and then I was thrown into King Rioner’s cellars. I guess it serves me right.”

Her father had worked so hard to keep her, Frelina, and her mother safe. Keep them all hidden from King Rioner and the rest of Vastala so they’d survive. Even live a good life.

And she’d ruined it all.

“Don’t tell me anything else. Please.” Merrick rose and walked over to her, cautiously sitting down on the bed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload on you.”

She drew deep breaths through her nose when it felt as if her chest would burst.

But no tears came.

Like no tears had come since that night she walked through the forest, crying so hard she lost her way a dozen times. By the time she’d finally found a carriage that would take her to Vastala, the tears had dried.

She hadn’t cried since.

Placing a hand on her leg, Merrick said quietly, “You were a child. I don’t think your parents would have faulted you. You didn’t mean it. ”

She slammed her hands against the mattress, grateful when the physical pain from her broken finger lessened the one in her chest. “But I did! My magic only works if I truly mean it. I am as evil as my magic.”

“I guess that makes two of us.”

She peeked at him through her lashes. “Was… was that a joke?”

Her heart nearly stopped when a crooked smile spread across his bent-down face.

“You must have rubbed off on me.”

She shook her head, not able to muster a smile as exhaustion and guilt and pain lay heavy on her limbs.

But when the servant knocked on the door, bringing food and wine, and Merrick moved the blankets on the bed so they could dine together in comfortable silence, a sliver of warmth settled in her broken chest.

At least she wasn’t entirely alone.