Page 116 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

Lessia’s ears remained trained, worry that Loche might once again be trailing her lying heavy in her gut, but no soft steps echoed behind her on the packed snow.

“Were you followed?”

Merrick slipped up beside her, his steps nearly silent, but his power surged through the air, and she drew a shaky breath, unsure whether the anger he radiated was because of her or something else.

“I don’t think so. But I was with Loche,” she admitted.

Nearly paralyzing dread gripped her heart.

If Loche followed…

If he found out who she was meeting…

She didn’t doubt he would confront them.

And there was only one way that could end.

Forcing her head to turn over her shoulder, she swept her gaze over the dark path.

No shadows walked behind them.

But Loche had sneaked up on her before.

She stumbled when her foot hit a rock, and only because Merrick gripped her elbow did she not tumble over the steep cliffs right into the freezing water.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growled.

Nodding, she drew a steadying breath.

If he didn’t allow her to fall to her death, perhaps the king’s visit wasn’t too alarming.

“Why is he summoning me?” Lessia peeked at him under her hood.

Merrick’s shoulders tensed. “I am not sure.”

“How are you not sure? He must have let you know to meet him.” Her eyes fixed on the cliffs before them, where King Rioner had last stood and waited.

They were empty for now, only the forest standing tall behind them, no cloaked figure perched atop.

“I told you. I am not sure. Now be quiet,” Merrick snarled.

Apprehension pricked her skin at his tone—so similar to the one he used before the election.

As they came to a halt beneath the cliffs, her tattoo no longer burned her skin, and she angrily swallowed the lump in her throat.

It didn’t matter if Merrick wouldn’t honor their truce now that his king was back.

She shouldn’t have been surprised.

He’d been loyal to the king for centuries, and not in the way she was through her blood oath.

They remained quiet as they waited, and as snow slowly covered her black cloak, she almost wished it would fall moreheavily so it would fully coat the wool and provide a little bit of warmth.

When water sizzled beneath the cliffs, a thick stream forcing its way up, she squared her shoulders.

King Rioner stood steadily atop the rushing torrent, a burgundy cloak, held together with a thick gilded chain, covering his face. He gracefully stepped off when the waters reached the top of the cliff, and the stream immediately fell into the wild sea, drops of it trickling over her and Merrick.

Straightening his robe, the king took a step toward them.

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