Hewas injured? Merrick nearly snapped at her that she was the one fucking injured when she rolled her eyes and sliced them forward instead.
His lips pulled at the sight, and they lifted farther when his gaze followed where hers had landed.
The king stood against the railing, Ydren and Raine closing in on him, and there was fear lacing his scent as his eyes darted toward Lessia and Merrick, who followed the Fae and wyvern closely. Ardow and the guard Lessia had released fell in step with them.
Seemed like it was the king’s turn to die, and Merrick wished for nothing more than to taunt him, but he kept his mouth shut.
This was Lessia’s moment.
They all halted when Lessia raised a hand, and she pulled Merrick with her when she took one more step to stand a bit ahead of the others.
“So here we are,” the king spat.
“So here we are,” Lessia echoed softly.
“I guess it was inevitable.” The king rested his arms on the railing, and Merrick kept a close look to ensure he wouldn’t try anything with the water that rushed below him. “You can’t fight the gods’ will.”
Something tugged at Lessia’s face, and a feeling—a very strange feeling—roiled within Merrick. His brows pulled as he stared at his mate—at the emotions fighting across her face.
“Oh, I think you can.” Lessia cocked her head. “But you did it wrong. You did exactly what they wanted you to. Played right into their hands… So stupid for the mighty regent.”
“Look at you, lecturing me like a child,” Rioner spat. “You’re exactly like your father.”
“Do not speak of him,” Lessia warned, her voice lowering. “You have no more right to do so.”
Ydren reinforced Lessia’s command with a growl that had her hot breath flying across the deck like the heat from the fire had before.
“As if a fucking halfling can tell me what rights I have.” Rioner let out a cold laugh. “What do you think will happen now? Your sister takes the throne? No… They will not accept her.”
Her sister? Merrick shared a look with Raine, and he didn’t like what began to form on his friend’s face.
“I don’t know,” Lessia admitted. “But it’ll be something better than your rule.”
Rioner seemed about to snap at her again when the guard she’d released from his oath called, “Just kill him! He’ll continue to spew his poison otherwise.”
Lessia didn’t even look over her shoulder at the guard. Instead, her grip on his hand tightened, and for the first time, no warmth raced from her skin to his.
Merrick’s eyes traveled across Lessia’s determined face to the king and back again.
A harsh laugh forced them back to Rioner.
“She hasn’t even told you.” The smile on Rioner’s face was genuine.
“Stop!” Lessia ordered, but the king ignored her.
“This is amazing!” He slapped his hands on his knees as more laughter bubbled out of him.
Merrick snarled softly, moving to place himself between the king and Lessia, not risking her for a second if this was the king’s way to distract them.
But even as he did so, a small voice within him started speaking up, a warning blaring at the despair he could now sense from Lessia.
He didn’t require another look at Raine to learn that he also had started to understand something was wrong. Truly wrong.
“What is going on?” that damned Ardow asked, his forehead creasing as he also took a step toward the king—as if that would help him understand better. “Lessia?”
His mate didn’t speak, and for the first time in a long time, real, hair-raising fear gripped the Death Whisperer.
Not anger.