Merrick knew Lessia would scold him for it later, but he leaned an elbow on the railing, enjoying Kerym losing his temper. The Siphon Twin so rarely did. Merrick had only seen it a handful of times, but every time it was like watching a kettle start to boil, slowly but surely, until those bubbles exploded across the surface, hitting everything around him.
Spit flew from Kerym’s mouth as he continued. “Rioner is the reason my brother is dead! He tried to trick everyone! He made the rebels and the Oakgards’ Fae alike so desperate that they believed there was no other way than to take land for their people by force! Under the guise of protecting Vastala, Rioner killed this one”—Kerym’s hand shot out toward Lessia—“and nearly the rest of us as well!”
More worried murmurs rose within the ranks of soldiers, and Merrick caught a few of them gripping bows and swords tightly as their gazes landed on Lessia, who was occupied with trying to stop the blood pumping out of the half-witch’s gut.
She didn’t even react under the heavy stares, only turned her head Merrick’s way, and he swore silently at the tears glistening in her eyes when she said, “He’s dying, Merrick. We need a healer.”
The man coughed, blood spluttering from his mouth onto Lessia’s dark tunic, and while Merrick was becoming increasingly certain it was already too late, he turned back to the soldiers, addressing the commander.
He’d hoped it wouldn’t fucking come to this, but when he’d spoken to Iviry before they left, they’d both agreed this was a possibility. Even without the interference from the damned Oakgards’ Fae, they knew bringing Lessia to Vastala might cause distrust and confusion.
Sliding a hand into his tunic, raising a brow when the commander moved to grab a dagger glittering by his side, Merrick hissed, “Get the brow down,” adding “Now!” when Kerym hesitated.
Merrick didn’t miss a step when his friend and Cedar scrambled to let it drop onto the cliff, forcing a few of the males to jump backward.
After strolling deliberately slowly up to the commander, Merrick shoved the letter into his hand. “This is a real letter from Iviry. As you can see, she’s appointed me interim general of all soldiers in Vastala, so that means… you all report to me.”
He could feel Lessia’s stare searing into his back, and the Death Whisperer knew he’d have to explain himself later, but Iviry had asked this of him just before they left, and he hadn’t even been sure whether he would accept it.
He did so now only because they didn’t have time for this.
The commander read the letter several times before his dark gaze lifted to Merrick’s once more. “It does say this, yes. But it says nothing about the halfling, Death Whisperer. She killed our king. That’s also punishable by death.”
Fuck this.
Merrick didn’t bother to hold back the white-hot rage raising the hair on his arms, and he moved before the commander could react, swiping the male’s own dagger from his belt and dragging it across his neck in one fluid movement.
Not a sound left the commander as his life drained out of him, and when his knees buckled, Merrick stepped to the side, allowing his body to topple over, spilling dark blood onto the pale cliffs.
Using his foot, Merrick pushed the still-twitching body into the sea, and only then did he let his gaze travel across the silent soldiers. “Anyone else have something to say about my mate?”
It was so quiet that Merrick could hear the shift in Lessia’s breathing. He knew he wasn’t about to have just a little scolding when they were alone, but he didn’t care. He was so fucking done with these assholes she had to listen to day after day.
Halfling. Half-breed. Not Fae enough. Not human enough.
Not enough.
The words echoed in his fucking dreams at night, and they weren’t even directed at him.
Since Lessia was surely already furious with him for killing someone even before they’d stepped onto land, Merrick decided he should go all the way.
“You all report to me, now. And that means youfollow my fucking orders,” Merrick growled. “The first one is that the wordhalflingis banished. If I hear anyone as much as fucking think it, you’re dead. If someone tells me you said it, you’re dead. You all know me. You know the Death Whisperer’s reputation. I don’t ask questions. I don’t have patience for your shit.”
Some of the soldiers actually hid behind the ones in the row before them, and Merrick had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He hadn’t even used his magic. Although… he had done it a fair few times in the training camps. Enough times that the people here knew that he could kill all of them if he wished.
Well, he could have. He wasn’t sure what would happen now if he tried. Pushing aside the flicker of temptation to do just that—to let that rumor spread across Vastala, too—Merrick was about to speak when Lessia’s soft voice caressed his ears. “Merrick.”
Turning his head over his shoulder, he realized she’d pulled the man’s head into her lap while Soria and Pellie knelt beside him, pressing their tunics and cloaks against the wound.
A whisper of apprehension rippled across his skin, but the fear in Lessia’s eyes wasn’t for him.
It never was for him. Even now, with drops of blood painting his clothing and the stones below him, even with the soldiers cowering before him, she just… looked at him like she always did.
Forcing himself to nod, he barked at Kerym and Cedar, “Help them get him up.”
Merrick turned to the soldiers again. “My second order is to inform the rest of Vastala what has happened, who every fighting-ready male and female reports to, and that we need them to gather. Get any ship that cansail ready. Get every Fae in Vastala ready. The ships sail in two days, and I want to see the entire fucking nation here then.”
When they all just continued to stare at him, he snarled, “Get fucking moving! Two days or I’ll have each of your heads.”
