Throwing them into cellars like all the leaders before would have done?
No. It wasn’t what Lessia had hoped for.
She’d said as much when one of Loche’s men delivered a note asking for her participation in this council, and the soldier had returned only an hour later, informing her that Loche would ensure the people listened to her opinions during the meeting he’d organized.
She’d have to speak up about this today, and though she’d practiced with Merrick…
Lessia was terrified. She remembered the debates on Ellow—especially the horrible one with the nobles—and today? Today would be packed with nobles, both human and Fae. And not just them… but every person who’d stared at her when they thought she wasn’t looking, whispering their worries and fears to whoever was beside them.
That strange feeling roiled within her again—a mixture of cold and warmth whispering over her skin, raising the hairs on her arms—and she swallowed when something within her tugged, almost as if at her soul.
You can do whatever you want now. You’re stronger than anyone here.
It wasn’t a voice. Not really. But it was a feeling—the same way she felt Ydren and Auphore. The way she knew what they were thinking.
The wyverns…
Lessia shot a quick thought to Ydren—something she’d learned she could do when they were on the ships and Ydren showed up every time Lessia became tooanxious—letting her know she was coming down the cliffs later, after the meetings.
For some reason, the wyverns had stayed after the battle, after what had happened to Lessia. She wouldn’t have blamed them for leaving, and she could tell there was some apprehension in Auphore when he’d spoken to her the evening she died and came back. But he’d only asked her what she wanted them to do, and Lessia had asked that they remain in Havlands.
The Oakgards’ Fae imprisoned in those cells were less than a hundred, and from what she’d understood, an entire army—a whole people—was on their way here to claim some land for themselves.
And while there hadn’t been more fighting… well, at least physical altercations, there was a lot of mistrust between the Fae and humans. Right now, Lessia struggled to envision a world where they could collaborate, even against a common enemy.
If they couldn’t get to that point before those ships arrived… the wyverns would be needed to keep those Lessia loved safe in the next battle.
An awareness, but not the uncomfortable one she’d recently been introduced to from whatever those souls were, pricked her skin, and despite everything going on, Lessia smiled.
Merrick.
She didn’t bother looking out the window as she rose from the dusty chair she’d been sitting on and sprinted to the door, slamming it open right as a wet Merrick reached for the handle.
His lips twisted to the side, but that didn’t stop the smile he tried to bite down as she threw herself into hisarms, burrowing her face into his damp neck and whispering, “I missed you.”
Lifting her off the ground so she had to wrap her legs around his waist, Merrick claimed her lips, then moved to kiss her chin and her neck. After tugging at her earlobe, he rasped, “I missed you too.”
It was silly, but she had really missed him. It might have only been an hour, but after having felt what a world without him was like…
Merrick must have sensed where her thoughts went because his kisses became more urgent, more passionate, more heated as he carried her inside. When she responded with a feverish passion of her own, Merrick groaned. His lips didn’t leave her neck as he said, “Let’s skip the meeting. You already saved them once. Let them save themselves this time.”
A giggle stuck in her throat, interrupted by Merrick’s hands exploring her body as he pressed her against the wall beside the door, but she forced herself to respond. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” Merrick found her lips again, nipping at her bottom one before he continued. “Raine is with Kerym, and your sister is spending time with those witches. We’re finally alone.”
“Because”—Lessia sucked in a breath when Merrick found his way under her shirt, his thumb brushing her nipple until it hardened—“we can’t do that to Loche, or Iviry for that matter. They need us there.”
Iviry had been appointed interim ruler of Vastala the evening of Rioner’s death, her status as a respected commander untainted by the years she’d spent in hiding from the soldiers of Vastala who had accompanied Rioner.
Still, if the people of Ellow were conflicted based on the news they’d found out about Loche—that he was the son of the rebel leader, a halfling, as well as the news of what had happened between him and Lessia—the Vastala Fae were in uproar.
Their king had been murdered, and not just by anyone, but by his halfling niece. The same halfling niece who somehow had been ripped from death’s claws by the Death Whisperer and then proceeded to summon thousands of dead souls.
Or something like that…
Lessia didn’t exactly know what had happened, and she knew Merrick hadn’t brought it up because he’d sensed she wasn’t ready.
She didn’t blame the ones who called for her execution, but she had to give it to Iviry—the female knew how to gain respect. Iviry had beaten up a male who’d gone after Lessia one day on the ships, reacting at the same time as Merrick but hissing at him that this was her fight.
