Page 123 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

With a nod, Venko spun around and walked out of the room.

Lessia followed, keeping her eyes on the floor as she passed Loche, but she couldn’t escape Merrick as he fell into step with her. The Fae didn’t say a word as they were escorted to their rooms, only quietly bid her good night and slammed the door to his bedroom.

As she lay on the bed, unease gnawed at her.

Whoever Venko was working with had known of her, and had known of her abilities.

They must have known she’d get the information.

Was whoever he was working with connected to the attacks that kept happening?

She moved to lie on her side, and her eyes followed the heavy snow that fell outside her window.

But they’d gone after Venko as well.

Fear pricked her skin.

There might be more people than Stellia’s men and King Rioner she needed to look out for.

Chapter

Fifty-Three

Lessia woke late the next day.

She scrambled to dress in her favored leathers and fastened her messy hair into a simple updo, with a few golden ringlets framing her face, when a guard outside her door knocked and shouted that the debate was to start.

She’d gotten used to Merrick storming into her chambers at dawn, waking her by throwing open the balcony doors to let in the freezing winter air. But it was quiet when she listened by his door, and when she opened it to peek in, the room was empty, the bed untouched.

Frowning, she opened the door to the hallway, allowing the horde of guards outside it to lead her to the same debate chamber they’d used when the nobles were in town.

While she hoped the commoners—many of whom she’d likely met in her business endeavors—would be less hostile than the nobles, she still steeled her spine as she walked into the crowded room.

“Lessia!”

Her eyes found Amalise’s blue ones across the room, and asmile spread over her face when her friend waved excitedly, nearly smacking the woman to her left.

Beside her stood a tired-looking Ardow. Even from a distance, Lessia could make out the deep circles under his eyes, the slump of his usually straight shoulders, and how the smile gracing his face did not brighten his dark eyes.

“You took your time. I was almost worried you might have run from the debate like you ran from me last night.”

Ripping her eyes from her friends, she met Loche’s.

She couldn’t stop her smile from widening when his eyes twinkled, the corner of his mouth lifting as his gaze snagged on her lips.

Loche raised a brow. “Perhaps you’re more afraid of me than being ripped apart before a crowd.”

She groaned when a blush threatened to creep up her neck, and Loche let out a deep chuckle as he stepped closer.

His scent invaded the space, and she sucked in a breath of mint and something wintry, like the smell of a fresh layer of snow on salty cliffs.

Shaking her head, she took a step back and tucked one of her free locks of hair behind her ear.

“Perhaps I find them better company.” She raised a brow when the fog that overtook her mind had lifted.

“You continue to tell yourself that.” Loche smirked.

She rolled her eyes and had moved to walk toward the stage when he offered her his arm.

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