Page 118 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

Fifty-One

After pulling Merrick aside and holding a hushed conversation Lessia couldn’t make out, the king disappeared as quickly as he’d come, leaving a freezing drizzle washing over them in his wake.

Spinning on his heel, Merrick stormed toward the castle, and Lessia stumbled after him, her limbs numb from the cold.

“Merrick,” she got out through shivering teeth as they neared the dimly lit town. “Merrick, wait.”

The Fae halted so fast she smacked into his rigid back, and Merrick had to catch her once more when she slipped on the snow-covered cliffs.

Lessia tried to back up when he trembled from barely restrained anger, but he didn’t release the strong grip on her arm, forcing her close to his side.

“You need to give the king the respect he demands,” Merrick hissed under his dark hood. “It’s not that difficult, Lessia. You bow, you don’t talk back, and you follow the orders he gives you.”

She ground her teeth, trying to keep her voice steady. “Buthe is wrong, Merrick. Loche has nothing to do with this. You must see it too. He is a good regent. He doesn’t deserve this!”

“A good regent?” Merrick snarled. “Tell me, was he not regent the past five years you lived here? How was that life, Lessia? I’ve seen how these humans look at you. How they talk to you.”

She shifted her eyes down and fixed them on Merrick’s black boots. “He didn’t know. He promised me it’ll be better if he wins this time. He’d make sure me and my…” She snapped her mouth shut as icy fear gripped her heart.

While Merrick had protected her back there, he had still told the king she wasn’t doing everything in her power to figure out what Loche knew. And she couldn’t risk those children more than she already had with Loche now knowing of them.

She cleared her throat. “He promised that those like me would be welcome here, that we won’t be disrespected anymore, and that we’ll be able to live like any other resident of Ellow.”

Merrick threw his head back with a growl, his grip on her arm tightening. “You’re making excuses for him! Exactly like you did for me! When will you understand that this world is ruled by power-hungry, evil, and ruthless males who should not be forgiven? All Havlands is full of them. Making excuses won’t change that!”

Glaring at him, she growled right back, “Tell me what else I can do! I won’t win this election. I have no power. I am at the mercy of the king you hold so dear, and whoever will rule Ellow. At least Loche isn’t threatening to kill me every time I see him.”

“Do you truly think Loche would let you live if he knew what you were? Why you’re really in the election?”

Her nostrils flared. “He wouldn’t hurt me. He…”

Merrick let out a cold laugh. “He likes you? He certainly seems intrigued by you. But that man is not good, Lessia. He wouldn’t hesitate to have your head if he knew you were here to spy on him.”

Clenching her jaw, she swallowed the words threatening to burst out of her.

Merrick was wrong.

She wasn’t sure what Loche thought of her, but she couldn’t believe he’d actually have her executed if he found out about her.

At least if she found a way to tell him herself.

Tell him it wasn’t a choice she made but one she was forced into.

That she was trying to protect Ellow.

Protect him.

Merrick pulled her flush against him, his hood twitching as if he was struggling against boring his eyes into hers. “You willnotfind a way to tell him, Lessia. I can see you’ve softened to him, but this is not wise. You and him? It will never work.”

She’d opened her mouth to respond when commotion sounded behind them, and as she spun around, her eyes widened upon finding several black-clad figures sprinting through the streets, heading the same way they were.

“What…” she whispered, but her words cut off as Merrick pulled her behind him.

He released her and gripped his sword in one hand, the other pulling off his hood.

Unsheathing her daggers from her waistband, Lessia peeked around the stiff Merrick, watching several of the men close in on them. She widened her stance, clutching the hilts tightly, when the men faltered, one of them pulling back his hood.

A gasp escaped her when her eyes slammed into walnut ones. “Ardow?”

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