Page 77 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

Her brows flew up.

He wanted to speak about Loche?

Glaring at him, she responded quietly, “Nothing is going on with us, and you don’t need to worry about him. He seems to be able to take care of himself.”

A frown formed across Zaddock’s forehead. “I am not worried about him, Lessia. I came to warn you from getting too involved—”

“Or what? You’re threatening her?” Merrick snarled. “I don’t take easy to threats.”

She was glad Merrick couldn’t see her roll her eyes, but Zaddock caught it, the corners of his mouth quirking slightly. “I am not threatening her, I am just looking out for her. I’ve seen you spend a lot of time with him, and I just…”

Merrick snarled again, his magic thrumming in the air, and Zaddock’s face blanched.

Pinching his arm, Lessia tried to snap Merrick out of it before he exposed them both.

Even if Zaddock was human, he must feel the air shifting.

And it wasn’t a natural tension filling it.

Slowly the air stilled, no longer sparking from electricity, and Zaddock glanced between them, shaking his head. “I see I am not explaining myself well. I shall leave you to it, but just… remember what I said.”

With that, he cast a final look at them, uncertainty flitting across his features before he scaledthe stairs.

Lessia took a step closer to Merrick, trying to ignore the deadly magic still vibrating softly around them. “You need to stop doing that. He could sense your magic. They’ll know something is up if it happens again, and I’d prefer to get out of this alive.”

His jaw ticked, but finally, he flexed his hands, his tense posture relaxing slightly. “You need to go to bed. We’re training early tomorrow.”

Turning around, he started up the stairs but stilled when Lessia didn’t immediately follow.

Sighing, she fell into step with him.

What was his problem?

Everyone was on edge because of the election and the attack, but Zaddock’s, Merrick’s, and even Loche’s reactions confused her.

When she went to bed, her thoughts still swirled, but she was no closer to understanding what was going on as sleep crept in.

Chapter

Thirty-Five

“How are you going to train me if you can’t look at me?” Lessia yawned as she followed Merrick down into the lower levels of the castle, where apparently, there was some kind of training ring.

Her body was still exhausted, her clothes worryingly loose from the weeks without food, but Merrick had woken her before dawn, a steaming bowl of porridge in his hands that he made her eat every last bite from.

Shivering, she took the final step onto a dimly lit cellar floor and glanced around.

The room was simple, with smooth curved walls, racks of wooden swords and daggers to her right, and a raised platform lined with thick rope to her left.

Merrick set down the two lanterns he’d carried and hopped onto the platform, waving for her to follow. “I don’t need to see you to fight you. Or to teach you.”

Hoisting herself up, she ducked underneath the rope. “You fought in the War of Storms, didn’t you? You wereconsidered a hero, together with that other male. What was his name?”

There had been many wars between the Fae, especially before King Rioner’s family came into power.

The War of Storms was one of the most brutal.

A Fae family that could wield clouds had tried to take control of Vastala—and nearly succeeded—by conjuring raging thunderstorms and electrocuting whole towns.

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