Page 143 of A Promise so Bold and Broken

Loche’s eyes darted to hers. “Let’s discuss more over dinner. It seems my guards didn’t just take it upon themselves to dole out punishment in a form I’d never approve of but also kept you starving.”

“Fucking locked us up in a cupboard,” Kerym muttered.

Loche nodded, staring at her as he stated, “They’ll be punished.”

Merrick snorted.

Loche eyed him, and his eyes widened for the briefest moment before he drawled, “I’m guessing the Death Whisperer had more creative ways than I do to deal with them.”

She couldn’t muster a smile, even if it felt like that was what Loche expected, and as the others began rising, heading toward the lower floor, Lessia gestured for them to go ahead.

She needed a bath.

And to be alone with her thoughts instead of with four males who all seemed entirely used to getting what they wanted.

When Merrick lingered, she gently shoved him out the door, even as her hand reached for him of its own accord to pull him back.

Lessia stared at it as she flexed it, trying to push the sense of loneliness away.

She needed timealone.

To process.

Think.

Plan.

And for some reason, whenever Merrick was anywhere near her now, she couldn’t focus on a single other thing than the tingling feeling racing up and down her spine and the damned fluttering that started in her gut as soon as his eyes bore into hers.

ChapterThirty-Six

Lessia rolled up the sleeves of the leather tunic Merrick must have sneaked back into the room to lay on her bed.

While it was much too large for her, she was grateful, especially with the cutoff sleeve of her own tunic displaying the traitor’s mark for all to see.

And when she pulled some air into her nose… she was also something else.

Warmth welled within her as Merrick’s wild scent wrapped around her—embraced her as if he were right there, his arms holding her close to his chest.

She couldn’t help but lift the front of the shirt to sniff it, pulling more of the intoxicating scent into her nose, fueling that feeling it invoked—a sense of freedom, of shaking off shackles, guilt, and masks.

As she caught her movement in the mirror outside the bathing chamber, Lessia blushed when her eyes met those of the reflection.

Her already heated cheeks turned bright crimson when wild amber eyes looked back at her as if she were a predator that had just been caught by surprise by its prey.

She brought her fingertips to her burning skin as she took a few steps closer to the mirror, brows snapping together as she observed herself for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

She looked… older?

No, that wasn’t possible.

Half-Fae who could wield magic, who took more to their Fae side than human, started aging unbelievably slowly once they turned eighteen—when they were fully grown—precisely like the full Fae.

After that they could become thousands and thousands of years old if the gods smiled at them.

Unlike her, who…

Lessia shook her head, pushing the thought away.

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