Page 104 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

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 seeit. “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.

“Itwas 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.

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