Page 124 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

Eyeing it, she hesitated.

Leaning in until his warm breath fanned over her, blowing a piece of hair across her face, he whispered, “I would say I don’t bite—but I’m not a liar. Although I prefer to do it in private.”

A shiver danced across her shoulders, and a nervous laugh bubbled up when his lips grazed the skin just below her ear.

“I don’t think they’ll wait for us all day.”

She snapped her eyes to his, realizing he’d stepped back, still with his arm in the air.

An amused smile played across his full lips when she finally took it.

Lessia scolded herself as they walked toward the dais and she threw another look toward her friends, finding Amalise grinning wide. Ardow’s mouth, though, was set in a straight line, his thick brows pulled down and eyes wary.

She raised her own brows when their gazes locked, but he subtly shook his head, eyes darting ahead of her.

As she followed his gaze, she realized she was already by the stairs.

Letting go of Loche’s arm, she walked ahead of him, taking up the seat in the hard chair next to Venko. The blond man offered her a tight smile when she sat down, and she nodded back, briefly glancing at Craven. He didn’t meet her eyes, keeping his straight ahead, his back rigid, and his features tense as he stared out over the crowd.

It was a lot bigger than that of the nobles—to be expected—but Lessia hadn’t quite realized just how many would attend today.

It seemed like every merchant, fisherman, and store owner in Asker was attending the debate. Every chair beneath the dais was filled, and several groups of people, including her friends, lined up by the back wall, some pushing forward to get a better look.

When Frayson ascended the dais, the people immediately fell silent.

“Welcome, people of Ellow. For those of you who haven’t attended before, this is your chance to evaluate the nominees for the next regent of Ellow. You will all have the chance to ask questions and raise concerns that are keeping you up atnight. Please don’t be shy to ask what you think is necessary to decide who you will vote for to lead Ellow. But I do ask that you do it one by one. This is a debate—not an opportunity to pick a fight. If you’d like a specific nominee to answer your question, please address them directly.”

Loche coughed beside her, and when she peeked at him, she realized he was laughing.

He smiled at her when he caught her staring, then moved his eyes forward.

“Well, I guess there is not much more to say. Please raise your hand, and I will choose the speaker.” Frayson clasped his hands behind his back and stepped to the side, hovering beside Loche’s chair.

A man in the front immediately shot his hand into the air, and as Frayson nodded to him, the door into the room slammed open.

Every head turned toward Merrick as he stomped inside, eyes cast down as he gruffly leaned his back against a free spot by the side wall amid the many soldiers standing guard.

Flickering her gaze over him, Lessia realized he wore yesterday’s clothing, and her brows furrowed as she wondered what task King Rioner might have assigned him that had him out all night.

As she shifted forward again, Loche’s eyes struck hers with such force her stomach surged.

Thankfully, the man Frayson had allowed to speak rose at that moment, clearing his throat.

“I’d like to address Lessia.”

Blood rushing in her ears, she focused on the man.

He was a regular in her taverns. Gerdho was a successful fisherman and a good man, judging by their interactions. His gaze didn’t waver as it met hers, but she found no hostility in it as he continued.

“I believe we were all surprised when Lessia nominated herself. And from what we’re hearing in town, she has not had the easiest time with it. I often visit her establishments, and from what I’ve seen, she treats her staff and her vendors exceptionally well.”

“Do you have a point?” Craven spat.

Gerdho snapped his eyes to Craven, contempt twisting his features as he beheld the noble.

“I thought the rule not to interrupt also applied to nominees, but perhaps our dear nobles are exempt?” he asked Frayson.

“It does. Craven, you will speak only when asked.”

---