Page 7

Chapter

Six

H er fingers ached from signing hundreds of forms, and irritation still pricked her skin from an earlier conversation with one of her suppliers.

He’d never liked her, didn’t trust her Fae heritage, but he’d never been so blatantly rude and dismissive as when she’d tried to argue with him over the ridiculously high price he was asking for plain meat.

Making a mental note to let Ardow know they needed a new supplier to replace him, even if it would cost them more, she threw herself on the unmade bed in her room.

Staring up at the white ceiling, she waited for the door to open.

Amalise had been out all day. She’d brought some of the children to the forest to have them let off some steam, but they should be back any moment now, and Amalise always came straight to her room to give her updates on how they were faring.

Shadows from the moon rippled across the beams in the ceiling, and a yearning for summer came over her.

This winter had been harsh, longer than the four others she’d spent here, and there didn’t seem to be an end in sight.

There’d been dark clouds rolling in, a hint of snow filling the air when she let the last merchant out of her office.

A sharp pain slicing through her arm made her involuntarily curl into herself, her hand flying to cover the tattoo and dread crawling up her spine as she hesitantly pulled back the sleeve.

No.

Her body buzzed when the silver serpent slithered up her forearm, its eyes blinking and its tongue viciously lapping her skin.

A pull twisted deep in her gut, and before she realized what she was doing, she walked out of her bedroom, unable to stop even to pick up her cloak.

In a trance Lessia walked down the spiraling staircase, out the double doors, and onto the cold, dark streets.

Pressure built in her chest at the little light outside, but her limbs wouldn’t bring her closer to the path where the metal lampposts lined the road.

Instead, they led her out toward the cliffs, toward the wild sea roaring below.

She sucked in a breath.

Was she about to walk off?

Disappear into the dark waves?

But as she closed her eyes, her feet an inch from the steep drop, her body turned, leading her north, away from the town, following the slippery, dark cliffs.

Soon, the city was far behind her, with only black cliffs to her left and the dark forest to her right. Shivering, she tried to manage her breathing and squash the panic clawing at her lungs.

She didn’t jerk when Merrick’s oily magic lathered over her skin; she was almost grateful for the sticky warmth shielding her from the harsh wind. And she was more than a little grateful for the lantern he held as he fell into step with her.

A hood covered Merrick’s face, the silvery cloak billowing behind him as she followed him left, where a lone figure in a dark cape stood upon a tall cliff.

They approached in silence, each dropping to one knee before him.

Lessia winced as the wet stone cut into her skin, immediately soaking her trousers.

“It’s been a long time, Elessia Gyldenberg.”

When Merrick didn’t rise, she didn’t dare either. “It has, my king.”

It was quiet for so long Lessia almost wondered if he’d left, when the king ordered, “Get up.”

Shakily rising to her feet, she stared at him.

The hood of his dark cloak covered his face, but she glimpsed the gilded doublet he wore underneath, coupled with a bejeweled belt and several glittering rapiers hanging from it.

If she hadn’t been so afraid, she might have snorted.

He probably wore that overly decorated crown beneath the hood as well.

“Is something amusing you, Elessia?”

Even if she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew they were narrowed, and she could smell the wisps of anger in the wind.

“No, Your Majesty.” She didn’t bow her head—he couldn’t look directly at her, so he’d never know.

But magic tightened around her neck, forcing her eyes down, bending her head forward until it was all she could do to keep a whimper from escaping.

“That’s enough, Merrick.” The king waved his hand lazily. “At least for now. ”

When his magic released her, she snapped her head to the side and couldn’t stop herself from snarling at Merrick, her hand reaching out to pull off his stupid hood to teach him a lesson.

A low laugh rumbled from him, so chilling she stopped herself, clasping her hands behind her back.

She wasn’t a fighter, had never learned combat—hadn’t required it when all she needed was to lock eyes with someone to control them.

Even if she was able to get one of them to look at her, King Rioner himself had commanded armies long before she was born—had fought every type of creature in Havlands.

The king laughed darkly. “So there is some fight left in you. Last I saw, you were so broken I wasn’t sure you’d survive the travels here.”

The musty smell of wet stone immediately filled her nostrils, and the fear she’d felt when his guards finally dragged her out of the cell wrapped like an icy hand around her heart.

She’d been blinded by the light they’d robbed her of for years when they threw her down before the king. With splitting pain tearing through her skull, she’d barely been able to hear the king offer her the blood oath.

Lessia bit her cheek, forcing the memories from their last meeting deep down.

She wasn’t that desperate little girl anymore; she was stronger now, and she had people who depended on her.

Even if she’d make sure they didn’t have to much longer.

“I’m glad. What I need you for will require some strength. From what I’ve heard, it can get quite grisly.” The king tilted his head, but still, she couldn’t make out a single one of his features; only the hood shifting betrayed his movements .

When he didn’t continue, she gritted her teeth. “What may I do for you, Your Majesty?”

Intertwining his long fingers, the king chuckled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He paused for a moment, and her pulse quickened, echoing in the quiet night.

The king snickered again, before he continued. “I need you to run for regent of Ellow.”

Lessia’s heart stopped.