Page 113 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

Lessia shook her head. “Loche, I…”

The tattoo on her arm burned, tightening its grip on her throat.

Her daggers slipped out of her hands, landing on the snow with a soft thud.

“Are you hurt?” Loche’s brows knitted, his eyes searching hers.

“J—just a bit sore still.”

She bit her lip at the lie, hating that she couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t the reason—or at least not the only reason she was doing this.

He didn’t deserve this.

King Rioner was wrong.

Loche had nothing to do with what was happening.

She must have read Stellia wrong. It was her soldiers who kept attacking, and the captain had disappeared without a trace.

It wasn’t fair for Lessia to continue this.

She couldn’t hold back a wince as another stinging pain shot up her arm.

“Perhaps you should get up if your ribs are still sore?Unless you plan on lying on me all day. Although thinking of it, I might not mind that too much.”

Loche’s eyes twinkled when she met them, and her breath caught in her throat when she realized she was still lying on top of him, his chest moving with hers as they filled their lungs with air.

Shifting her eyes down, she scrambled to her feet. Lessia picked up the daggers and tucked them into her waistband again while trying to block out Loche’s low chuckle.

“Come.” Loche reached out a hand as he got to his feet. “I want to show you something.”

When she glanced at his hand, he pulled back his hood and smiled at her.

A smile that made her face heat despite her cold and wet clothing.

Her eyes flitted between his, and she hesitantly took the hand he offered, following him as he guided her west—the opposite direction of the castle.

Chapter

Forty-Nine

“Where are you taking me?”

Lessia cautiously surveyed the wide streets of the western part of Asker.

She wasn’t too familiar with this area; the neighborhoods here were more upscale than where her home, taverns, and gambling rooms lay.

Loche nudged her with his shoulder, his face once again shrouded from view by his hood. “Do you trust me?”

Pulling at her own hood, she shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

A laugh escaped him. “Fair enough. I’m taking you to my house.”

Her steps faltered. “I thought you lived in the castle? Isn’t that what regents do?”

“Officially, yes. Unofficially, I live right there.” Loche gestured toward a white three-story building before them, where a large glass-encased balcony jutted out from the top floor.

The glass was black, impossible to see through, and shewondered whyever someone might choose to do that when they had the opportunity to have a clear view of Asker, given the hill the house was embedded in.

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