Page 62 of A Promise so Bold and Broken

“Fuck!” She whipped her head around when Ardow slapped her hand off, his own wrapping around his arm where small dark stains appeared on the white tunic he wore.

Right where her fingers had just been.

Glaring at her, he whispered, “You drew blood. What is wrong with you?”

“I—” she started.

But she didn’t have time to finish before Merrick forcefully gripped her arm, dragging her after him as he growled at all of them, “Let’s just get this night over with.”

ChapterSeventeen

Every seat on the wooden benches was taken when Merrick hauled her out of the brightly lit room, and she was relieved when he guided her to lean against the tavern wall instead of trying to squeeze down between any of the unknown Fae.

Only a few eyes tracked them, some of the Fae who faced them on the other side of the fireplace noting the small group gathering in the shade of the stone building.

But most kept their attention on the brown-haired Fae with a thick beard of the same color who paced back and forth before the orange flames.

Some kind of leader, she guessed.

The Fae seemed older, the gray streaks touching his temples telling her he must be several thousand, if not tens of thousands, years old.

From what her father had taught her, Fae looked up to elders.

If there weren’t any royals, nobility, or famed warriors in the room, age typically determined who could claim authority.

Lessia drew a breath of smoky air, her eyes trailing the embers sparking above the large fire as Merrick took up the spot next to her and Raine leaned against the wall on her other side.

“Are you drinking that?” Raine nodded toward the glass she still held in her hand as Ardow and Venko placed themselves beside Merrick.

When Lessia shrugged—not particularly eager to drink the liquor upon remembering the cup she’d tasted on the ship—he stretched out his hand, and she unbent her stiff fingers to offer him the cup.

After downing it in one go, Raine croaked, “Thank you,” and rested his head on the stone, his eyes closing.

Merrick’s fingers brushed hers as he flexed and unflexed them, and when she stole a glance at him, he was faced forward, his features strained as he glared at the group of Fae.

She was just about to ask him what was wrong, or perhaps even apologize, when the bearded Fae began speaking.

Not wanting to draw any more attention, she quickly pressed her lips shut.

“Tonight is Zehmkell.”

The Fae around the fire began drumming a low, steady beat by clapping their hands on their thighs, like an eerie melody in the dusky light.

The fire flickered in tune with the sound, amplifying the Fae’s throaty voice, and a shiver shook her body when he continued.

“While the gods created Zehmkell, we do not celebrate Zehmkell for them. Zehmkell is for us. It’s for unity. For friendship. For lost ones and loved ones. For those that are here and those we left behind.”

When a wolflike cry echoed over the terrace, Lessia started, her eyes flying across the group, snagging on the faces contorted by the flames—on the two males who cupped their hands around their mouths, crying up toward the moon, which had begun rising over the island.

A low humming accompanied the thumping rhythm and the harsh cries, and her legs began shaking when something whispered over the skin.

Not a chill, but like soft, warm caresses that prickled everywhere across her bare skin.

As if the gods, or perhaps those that didn’t walk this realm anymore, still wanted it known they were there.

That they were listening.

When Lessia jumped again at another otherworldly howl, a warm hand wrapped around hers, and she met Merrick’s eyes as he intertwined their fingers.

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