Page 60 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

She almost reached out to squeeze his knee but stopped herself when his eyes narrowed on her lifted hand. Instead, she asked softly, “How did you become regent?”

Loche stiffened for a moment before he leaned forward and bore his eyes into hers. “Are you trying to trick me into spilling my secrets?”

Shaking her head, she began to respond, but Loche interrupted her, his foot tapping the floor. “I told you. I have many secrets, and I’m not one to share, especially not how I became regent with another nominee.”

She tried for a smile. “Understood.”

When Loche remained silent, she drew a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking of what you told me earlier… about the missing ships and people. Do you know who is behind it?”

She held her breath, barely daring to cast a glance at him, when his leg stilled.

Loche trailed his gaze over her face, brows pinching. “Why do you want to know?”

Picking at the couch cushion, she mumbled, “I amrunning for regent. I think it’s important to know what’s happening in Ellow and beyond.”

Loche continued to eye her, and she thought he might get up and leave when he finally sighed, something she couldn’t read flashing across his face. “We don’t know. We suspect it might be pirates from some of the isles not under Ellow’s or Vastala’s rule. They’ve been a problem for years and continue to get bolder.”

As he averted his eyes, a sinking feeling told her he wasn’t telling the truth.

Or at least not everything he knew.

The couch creaked as Loche lay down across it, his long legs hanging over the armrest. “I’ll sleep down here tonight.”

When Lessia frowned at him, he gave her a lazy wink. “My tunic is wet, remember? It’s still quite cold in my room, and I helped keep this fire going. I should think it’s only fair.”

Shifting to sit with her back against the couch, she grumbled to herself.

But as her eyelids grew heavy, a feeling of relief whispered over her skin.

At least Craven wouldn’t try anything with Loche here.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

As the ache in her stomach intensified, Lessia adjusted her position, curling closer to the warmth she leaned on. When her mind began to clear, she winced at its dullness, squeezing her eyes shut.

If she could only sleep through the next few days, it might not be so bad.

Especially when she was so warm.

“You done using me as a pillow?”

Her eyes flew open, and when she turned her head, she stared right into hard gray ones.

Looking around, she realized she was curled up against Loche’s leg, which rested on the floor off the couch.

As she flew to her feet, she swayed, nearly falling over—would have if Loche hadn’t gripped her arm to steady her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, braving a quick glance at him.

Loche only glared back, rising from the couch and grabbing the tunic he’d laid to dry. Pulling it on, he stalked right up the stairs without another word.

Lessia stared after him, wincing as his angry gait pounded in her head.

Their truce was apparently over.

For the rest of the day, she lingered by the fire, not bothered by any of the men, each only making his way down to refill his cup of water.

---