Page 121 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

Merrick stiffened behind her, and Lessia cast a quick glance over her shoulder.

While Merrick’s eyes remained on the floor, every muscle was locked, his tan hands twitching by his sides.

Turning back to Loche, she caught the quick glance between him and Zaddock as she asked, “Do you think her own men betrayed her?”

Loche’s eyes didn’t meet hers as he responded, “We don’t know.”

The low huff that escaped Merrick made her realize she wasn’t the only one who didn’t believe him.

Her gut twisted as Zaddock took a step back.

His face was still hardened with anger, but it was the slight flare of worry in his eyes when they accidentally met hers that had the hairs on the back of her neck rising.

“There you are!”

Frayson stalked into the room, followed by several guards, including a few of Loche’s, all bearing those dark masks that somehow seemed even more ominous now that she’d seen the men behind them.

“Lessia, I’m glad to see you in one piece. We looked all over the castle for you.” Frayson offered her a tight smile before gesturing for them to follow. “I’m calling a meeting regarding the election and the news we received tonight. We need to make some fast decisions.”

Loche glanced at her and opened his mouth, but after another look at Zaddock, he closed it and followed the older man into the dimly lit hallway.

“You need to find out whathe knows. And soon.” Merrick’s whisper brushed her ear as he stepped up beside her.

Wringing her hands, she followed him as they walked toward the throne room, where hushed voices drifted toward them.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

But if they were targeting the nominees, they were targeting Ellow.

And she’d made a vow to protect it with all her might.

Lessia was still deep in thought when Merrick moved to the side, allowing her to enter the room first.

“It must be her! She is the spy! Throw her into the dungeons or banish her—I don’t particularly care.”

Whipping her head up at Craven’s shrill voice, she took in the room.

Craven walked back and forth before the crackling fireplace, his muddled eyes venomous, while Venko sat in one of the chairs, his face pale and hands gripping the plush arms.

Guards stood rigid by every wall, and several were posted by the windows—one row facing out and the other watching the room with sharp eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” Craven waved his arms. “It’s clear that there is a spy in the castle, and who could it be if not the halfling? She must be feeding them information about where we are and what we’re doing to allow them to sneak in undetected. Not a single guard saw them come in or stumbled upon them while they waited in the shadows.”

The anger from earlier returned with full force, and Lessia couldn’t stop herself from stalking up to the man, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I have no idea how or why they keep attacking. Or who is behind it, for that matter. I wasn’t even here tonight, Craven.”

A sliver of guilt rushed down her neck as she spoke.

But she wasn’t behind this, and she doubted King Rioner had anything to do with it.

Not if the same things were happening in Vastala.

While he was shrewd and vicious, what did he have to win by messing with the human election?

Craven’s bloodshot eyes narrowed, and she pushed him backward, cringing as the musty scent of his breath washed over her when he opened his mouth. As she took a step back, she slammed right into a hard chest, and a strong arm snaked around her to steady her when she stumbled.

She almost thought she imagined it when his grip tightened around her for a moment before he snarled over her head, “This is why you’ll never win, Bernedir. You’re a fool if you think Lessia has anything to do with it.” Loche took a step toward the graying man, leaving a wave of coldness washing over her as his arm dropped to his side. “And if I hear you call her that vile name one more time, I will personally make sure you need a healer ship to bring you back home.”

Lessia bit back a grin when Craven sighed loudly, then slumped down into a chair, his arms crossed over his chest like a child.

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