Page 130 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

When she nodded, his eyes moved forward again, and Lessia’s body thrummed with adrenaline as one of the men let out a low chuckle before ordering “Get them.”

Two of the cloaked men were instantly upon her, but she planted her feet wide, and turning her body sideways to throw them off, she lashed out with a dagger, grimacing at the sickening sensation of it burrowing into soft flesh.

The man she’d struck tumbled to the ground with a stifled cry. The other gripped her arm, and as she tried to elbow him, he stepped out of the way, twisting her arm at a painful angle behind her back.

Remembering Merrick’s lessons, she bent down, driving the hilt of the dagger in her free hand between his legs. When his grip loosened, she ripped her arm free, spinning around and closing her eyes as she slammed the dagger deep into his chest.

Yanking it out, she turned around again, kicking at anotherfigure to keep him back.

But he continued advancing, and when his sword whistled through the air, she wasn’t fast enough.

The blade sliced her wrist, and the dagger she’d held clattered onto the cliffs.

“Lessia!”

She caught Loche’s gaze as he fought off four men, and his eyes widened as he screamed, “Watch out!”

Whirling around, she found three more men stalking toward her, crowding her against the steep drop.

Lessia cursed loudly and tried to jump to the side, but the man that struck her blocked her way, laughing when she snarled at him.

“Not fast enough, little Faeling,” he taunted.

“Take off that hood and tell me to my face,” she growled.

He laughed darkly again. “I don’t think so.”

She prepared to lunge at him, but as she took the first step, arms wrapped around her chest, and another hand gripped her wrist so tight she had no choice but to let the other dagger fall to the ground.

Kicking and twisting, she tried to get free, but the men behind her locked her arms against her body, their sharp breaths brushing her cheeks as they pressed against her.

“Throw her off the cliff,” the man before her ordered.

“No!” Loche screamed.

Pushing off the men he was fighting, he sprinted toward them, but they caught up with him, and he had to stop to continue parrying their blows, spinning, lunging, and dropping low so not to get impaled by the long blades.

The men started dragging her toward the sea, and Lessia continued to desperately kick to get out of their hold, but it did little to stop them from soon reaching the edge.

As they shifted her to face the wild waves, she thought of Amalise, Ardow, and all the children, praying that Lochewould make it out alive so he could keep the promise he’d made and give them a chance at a better life.

Just as they were about to push her off, the air stilled.

A rush of ancient, wild magic tinged the whistling wind, and harried whispers boomed in her ears. Oily vibrations tangled with the icy winter night, softly layering over her skin.

The men around her screamed, their hard grips releasing her as their shrieks cut off midway. The whispers softened, drifting away with the salty squalls from the sea, leaving a deafening silence in their wake.

Shakily taking a step back from the icy drop, she spun around.

Merrick stood tall amongst the fallen bodies, the air surrounding him rippling and whirling and his silvery hair blowing wildly around his hard, bent-down face.

Loche also stood straight amongst the men on the snow beneath him, his eyes wide and snapping back and forth between her and Merrick. Emotions raced across his features as understanding—too much understanding—filled his gaze.

A wave of fear rushed through her when he didn’t lower his sword but gripped the hilt tighter as he faced Merrick. The Fae ignored him as he stalked up to Lessia and bent down to pick up the daggers, shoving them into her hands.

She remained still as he looked her over, careful not to meet her eyes, before he leaned in close. “You need to erase his memory.”

When she started shaking her head, Merrick hissed, “Look at him! He is about to fight me. Perhaps you as well.”

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