Page 18 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

Lessia swallowed as she stared at the yellowed papers she’d had drawn up a few years ago. “I’m signing everything over to you two.”

“No!” Amalise flew up, joining Ardow to glower down at her. “You’re joining the election. So what? You can still come back here from time to time while it’s running, and even if you’re elected, you can still help, perhaps even more!”

“Amalise, if something happens to me, I need to know they’re okay—that you are okay. If everything goes how I hope it will, I’ll be back, and you can sign my portion back to me. Please tell me you understand?”

It broke her heart to see them stare at her like this, anger and fear dancing across their features, but finally Ardow dipped his chin.

“I don’t like it. It feels like you’re preparing for something to go wrong.” He smacked the papers down on her bedside table so hard the lantern on it shook. “And we can’t even help you, because you can’t tell us how!” His voice broke, and Lessia reached up to pull him to her.

Ardow let her drag him onto the bed, and she reached out to Amalise, who slowly lowered herself down, even as she pulled at her hair in frustration, making knots in her blonde waves.

“Youarehelping me,” Lessia said quietly. “You’ve been helping me for years. And I can never thank you enough for it. But I need to ask this one thing of you, even if I can’t tell you why.”

When they bowed their heads, she squeezed their hands.

It was true.

She wouldn’t have survived without them.

She’d been so broken when she arrived in Ellow. Not just from the years in the king’s cellar, from the abuse and torture they’d put her through. But from the heartache of what she’d done to her family, from the memories of the streets, from the friends she hadn’t had time to seek out before she was put on a ship away from Vastala.

Ardow and Amalise had sat with her during the long nights the memories wouldn’t leave her mind, had listened and cried when she told them her darkest secret, and most importantly, had immediately helped her when she told them her plan of rescuing those who suffered like she had on the streets.

She breathed through her nose as apprehension, guilt, and warmth tangled inside her.

It felt as if the emotions would burst out of her body—too many, too intense, too conflicting, hurting more than her sore limbs and pounding head.

With a shakier voice than she liked, she said, “I need to sleep. I feel like I’ve fallen down a cliff.”

Ardow and Amalise mumbled to each other as they walked out, but she couldn’t make out the words as she tried to keep herself together.

Involuntary shudders convulsed her body as she stared up into the ceiling, praying she’d find a way to make it through while keeping Ellow, and everyone in it, safe.

Sleep came late that night, and when it did, Lessia wished it hadn’t.

Memories of the cell and her family fought for dominance in her dreams, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t change the outcome of death and destruction that followed as she tried to right the wrongs she’d caused.

Chapter

Nine

The smell of food woke her, and with a groan, she pushed herself out of bed, every single limb and muscle aching. Dropping the blanket wrapped around her body, Lessia peeked down, holding her breath.

Black-and-blue bruising covered parts of her stomach, legs, and arms, but it was better than she’d thought.

Amalise was right—no broken bones.

Casting a glance at herself in the mirror beside the bed, she found her face free from bruising, even if her nose was a little red still from when it smacked into the stone.

Her amber eyes were red lined as well, her skin paler than usual, but that could also be attributed to her not eating last night. Picking at her bloodied and matted hair, she sighed and made her way out of the room, into the bathing chamber.

After a freezing bath, the delicious scents from the kitchen making her forgo warming the water first, she stepped out with dripping hair, her usual black trousers and tunic on.

Ardow stood with his back to her, freshly made bread on the counter beside him and steaming plates of meat andgrains already standing upon the wooden table in the middle of the room. Gray wintry sunlight seeped through the window, left cracked open to avoid the room filling with steam from whatever was brewing in the large pot Ardow stirred.

“Morning,” he chanted as he spun around.

When she raised her brows and gestured to the many plates, he offered her a sheepish grin and shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep, so I stayed occupied.”

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