Page 3 of A Promise so Bold and Broken

“As if I would work with these two.” Leaning back in his chair, Merrick crossed his arms over his chest. “Their mess is theirs alone.”

Ardow scoffed, but his mouth closed when Lessia raised a hand.

“Then why would you try to save them?” She eyed Merrick as he pulled out a ribbon of fabric from inside his tunic and used it to tie back his hair.

Her eyes lingered for a moment on the shiny strands, and she wondered whether it was a full-Fae trait that kept it looking as if it had recently been washed while her own was matted and smelled like death.

When he finished removing his hair from his face, Merrick rolled his eyes. “Someone needed to help them clean it up.”

“I need more, Merrick,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“I don’t have all the information, as our dear king made sure I couldn’t be trusted with it,” he hissed back, his eyes flaring.

She swallowed the snide remark on her tongue.

Like her, he’d been forced to serve King Rioner against his will, and she knew all too well the limitations that came with the blood oath.

And Merrick had been bound by it for centuries…

Blowing out a shaky breath, she managed to demand, “Then tell me what you do know.”

“There is more to the little rebellion your friends think they’re heroes for being part of. I don’t know the full extent, but Alarin—your father—does,” Merrick responded.

Lessia winced when her father’s sorrow-filled eyes burst into her mind, the compassion that had filled his face as he stood behind Rioner that final day on Ellow.

He hadn’t even known who she truly was when he’d hurt for her in Loche’s office.

Hadn’t known his own daughter was the one on her knees on the floor, begging the man who’d started to piece together her broken heart not to cast her out like trash on the street.

With a sharp inhale, she pushed the images away.

Threw them to the back of her mind as quickly as Loche had thrown her out.

“Alarin is your father?” Venko leaned forward, his uninjured eye narrowing.

“I—” she started, but Ardow interrupted her.

“King Rioner is youruncle?” Hurt twisted his dark features as the hands he’d placed on the table clenched.

“So what if he is?” she snapped, balling her own hands when they continued shaking. “He doesn’t know I exist. At least not as his niece. My father kept us hidden from him my entire life, and he wouldn’t dare look at me long enough to recognize the resemblance.”

“Of course it matters!” Venko hissed. “You’re of royal blood!”

“I’m ahalfling, remember? I have as much claim to the throne as either of you. Rioner would sooner kill me than recognize the blood that flows through my veins,” she snarled.

Ardow shook his head. “That’s exactly why it matters! If he ever finds out, he’ll stop at nothing to find you!”

A chill traced down her spine, but she shrugged angrily to hide it.

There was no point in worrying about King Rioner finding out who she truly was.

Not when she already had so much else to worry about.

Not when she didn’t know if her friends were safe.

If they were alive.

“Then let’s hope he never does,” she said quietly before boring her eyes into Ardow’s. “You’ve stalled long enough.”

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