A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly
Book 0:
Compelling Fates Saga
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Synopsis
Half-Fae Elessia could have had everything. Literally.
Since her magic allows her to compel anyone to do her bidding by merely looking into their eyes, the world was at her feet.
But after a tragic accident, she is thrown into the Fae king’s dungeons and forced to swear a blood oath to him, binding her to his service.
Five years later, she’s living amongst humans in Ellow and has created a life for herself—as much as she can with the king’s promise to call in his debt looming over her.
When he finally comes to collect, she is made to infiltrate the human elections to determine whether the current regent is involved in the strange things happening in the land of Fae.
With the promise of freedom from the king’s claws, Elessia is determined to see it through. Liberty is within reach as long as she can keep the lethal Fae guard watching over her from eliminating her before she unearths the information the king seeks.
But as she grows closer to the brooding human regent and secrets begin to unravel, Elessia realizes greater forces may be at play.
And she might stand before the choice between her own freedom and that of a nation.
Publisher: Kensington Books
Print pages: 476
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A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly
Sophia St. Germain
The noise in the packed tavern was unbearable.
A relentless hum of chatter and clattering of glasses pounded against her temples, and Lessia cast a longing glance at the door behind her.
It had been a long day already, and the only thing she wanted was to climb into bed—to be anywhere other than this teeming, blistering room.
Even the snow swirling outside the dusty windows behind her looked more welcoming.
But she needed to show her face tonight.
She’d spent the past few nights holed up in her study, and Lessia knew word would get back to her king. If she stayed in tonight as well, his henchman would come looking for her.
She’d tested his patience before—two days seemed to be the longest time she could escape his watch.
Sighing, Lessia flicked her hair and forced her lips to curl into a sly smile as she waved to try to get Bren the barkeep’s attention. A few patrons glanced her way, and she winked at two of the regulars when they raised their cups in her direction.
Bren was tied up, scrambling to take orders from thirsty soldiers who’d spent too many months at sea, so she rested her chin in one hand and traced the jagged outline of the wooden countertop with the other.
As she picked at the sticky surface, a drunken soldier barreled into her, jarring her arm off the counter and nearly tripping her.
Shaking her head, Lessia leaned back over the bar, but when the rough material of his uniform kept scraping against her arm, his hip painfully jutting into hers, she turned her head over her shoulder and glared at him.
“Could you move, please?” She pointedly glanced at the space beside him. “There’s plenty of room for both of us to order.”
The soldier swept his auburn hair out of his face and flashed her a drunken grin. “No need to frown, beautiful. I’m only trying to get a drink.”
His eyes roamed over her black cloak and the long-sleeved black tunic she wore beneath, and he arched a brow. “I’d buy you one. But you’re clearly not here to socialize.”
With that, he turned back to the bar, leaning over the dark wood to give a wobbly wave to Bren.
Lessia rolled her eyes.
She knew her attire didn’t do her any favors, not like the beautiful dresses other women in the tavern wore, their laced corsets accentuating their waists and the capped sleeves showing off their slender arms.
But it wasn’t like she had a choice.
The soldier kept trying to get Bren’s attention, and she couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at her lips at his feeble attempts. The tavern was too busy tonight; there was little chance Bren would prioritize him over the many patrons he knew.
Especially when Lessia stood next to him.
A hand squeezed her shoulder, and she spun around, finding her best friend in one of those beautiful dresses she’d admired.
Gray, with white detailing trailing up the long skirts, the dress was simple but beautiful against Amalise’s blonde tresses and huge blue eyes. And it had short sleeves, so she probably didn’t have sweat dripping down her neck like Lessia did.
She dragged a hand through her wavy hair. “Is this one giving you trouble, Lia?”
Lessia shook her head. “I’m good.”
When Amalise narrowed her eyes and a familiar wicked sheen glinted in them, Lessia stepped into her path.
Too often, a situation like this escalated into a brawl, and with tension already heavy in the air from restless soldiers, Lessia wouldn’t be surprised if the whole tavern got involved after one punch.
That she was too tired for.
She let some of her own wickedness fill her eyes and offered Amalise an edged smile. “I told you I’ve got this, Amalise. You go back to whatever poor man you plan on dragging home tonight.”
Lessia waved toward the table where the rest of their friends sat and where a group of soldiers and merchants hovered nearby to try their luck with the beautiful women.
Amalise scowled, but when Lessia kept her feet firmly planted, she shrugged and drew a breath to calm herself. Amalise could be a bit protective, and her temper rivaled Lessia’s—which was one of the reasons they became instant friends when Lessia arrived in Ellow five years ago.
Finally, a smile overtook her face, and Amalise wiggled her brows, whispering theatrically, “I’m thinking the one over there.”
She not-so-subtly pointed to a tall soldier whose eyes were fixed on them and who was clad in the same navy uniform as the man next to Lessia but with wavy black hair spilling far down his back.
Amalise pursed her lips when her eyes snapped back to Lessia’s. “He’s got better hair than me! I need to know his secret.”
Lessia snorted. Amalise didn’t need any beauty tips. She was already the most gorgeous woman Lessia had ever seen. And Amalise knew it.
Lessia’s eyes trailed her friend as she approached the soldier. Her full hips swayed seductively as she stepped up one step too close, invading his space to whisper something in his ear.
Snickering to herself, Lessia turned back to the bar.
The soldier who’d bumped into her had managed to order a few cups of ale and slipped Bren some silvers.
Bren’s eyes widened when they locked with hers, an apology ready at the tip of his tongue, but Lessia winked at him, gesturing toward the rest of the bar, where dozens of people leaned across the surface, desperate for his attention.
When he still hesitated, she waved her hand again, offering him a wide smile.
Although from the look on his face, she wasn’t sure if it reassured him, as his posture remained tense when he finally approached another patron.
Shifting her eyes back to the soldier, Lessia tapped his shoulder. “I know you’re new here, so I’ll give you a pass this time. But me and my friends over there”—Lessia jerked her head toward the table where Amalise and a few others eyed them closely—“are thirsty. And we order first around here.”
He seemed to prepare to respond with something snarky, but his gaze swept over her again, and his muddy brown eyes widened. “You’re—”
“Half-Fae. Was it the ears? Or perhaps the teeth?” She couldn’t help but let her lip curl, showing off her sharp canines, her grin creeping wider when the soldier inched backward.
“Or was it maybe the height?” Lessia straightened to her full five-nine stature, leveling her amber eyes with his frightened ones.
The soldier stared at her with the bar pressed into his back, the air around him crackling with nervous energy and fear seeping into his scent.
Lessia softened her gaze. “Is this your first time on Asker?”
His quivering chin dipped.
Gods, he must hail from one of the remote isles in Ellow if he hadn’t encountered Fae or even half-Fae before. Not that there were that many half-Fae on the human isles—or in Havlands at all—but here on Asker, the capital island of Ellow, it wasn’t unheard of to run into one from time to time.
The air shifted as the soldier’s eyes narrowed. From the stale scent lacing his breath, it must have been ale bolstering his confidence, and his features twisted into a drunken sneer as he spat, “I don’t know who you think you are, halfling, and I truly don’t care. My friends and I just spent weeks at sea. We are thirsty.”
Her guilt instantly melted away, and Lessia clenched her jaw not to snarl at him.
Shifting her golden-brown hair out of her face and balling her hands into tight fists to keep her unpredictable Fae emotions in check, she hissed quietly, “I am going to give you one more chance, soldier. My friends and I own this part of town—including this tavern. You may apologize for the vile thing you just called me by heading over to them and distributing the drinks you bought.” She nodded toward the mugs of ale lining the bar behind him.
When the soldier scoffed and turned around to gather the cups and return to the rowdy group of soldiers he’d come with, a buzz filled her ears, and Lessia ground her teeth.
She shouldn’t.
Using magic on humans was not only illegal, as she’d break the most sacred stipulation of the treaty between humans and Fae; she’d also despise herself for it later.
But her patience was truly running thin today.
And she had a reputation to uphold.
Casting a quick glance around the room, making sure no one looked their way, she blew out a deep breath and closed her eyes. The corners of her mouth lifted as her magic purred at the chance to be unleashed.
It had been months since she last used her so-called gift.
When her eyes flew open, she stared at herself in the dusty mirror behind the counter, and a shiver snaked down her spine at how her eyes glowed like molten gold in the dim light.
Apart from the pointed ears, she could be mistaken for human, albeit a quite tall female, but when she let her magic reign like this, there was no mistaking her Fae heritage.
Once again, she tapped the soldier’s shoulder, and when his smug face snapped her way, his body stilled, his muscles locking.
“What the…”
The soldier backed into the counter once more, the ale in the two cups he held spilling onto his black boots.
Lessia closed the distance between them, gripping the lapel of his uniform jacket and bringing her face to his. She let her hair fall forward again, two bronze curtains concealing her face from the other patrons.
“What—what happened to your eyes?” The soldier’s voice shook as his gaze flitted between her hand and eyes.
Ignoring his question, she let magic seep into her voice, transforming it into a deep, seductive murmur as her eyes locked with his. “You will give those cups to my friends. And you’ll continue to buy us drinks all night—courtesy of your big, big heart,” she purred.
The soldier’s eyes glazed over, his posture relaxing as he nodded.
Smiling, Lessia continued. “As a matter of fact, you’ll be happy to do it. After tonight, you’ll remember that the harbor and the east side of Asker belong to me and my friends. And you want to please us. Please be sure to inform your friends as well.”
Lessia blinked, forcing the lingering magic back inside her until the unnatural glow left her eyes and her natural honey color returned.
Rolling her neck, she offered the soldier a sweet smile, tilting her head when he still hovered by the bar. “What are you waiting for?”
The soldier scrambled to gather all the cups in his hands, and Lessia laughed softly when he walked over and, with a smile on his face, distributed them amongst her friends, leaving a cup behind for her.
Grinning to herself, she lifted the mug to take a sip of ale. Even if she often felt like she cheated when she used her magic, since no soul in Havlands could withstand her commands, it was helpful in situations like this.
But Lessia’s smile fell when cold, oily magic rippled over her skin, and her hand froze midair. With the hair on the back of her neck rising and her Fae senses blaring, she whipped around so quickly the ale sloshed over her hands.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she beheld the silver-haired Fae slipping onto one of the high chairs beside her. The snow clinging to his gray cloak glittered in the dim light, and his tanned skin and the cascading waves of his shoulder-length hair shimmered—even in the depths of winter.
“That’s what you waste your magic on? Some free ale and a simple human?” His deep voice rumbled through her, her heart beating in rhythm with his fingers tapping the bar.
Even with his glamour in place, the soldiers around them retreated, keeping a respectful distance—their dull human senses picking up on the danger radiating from the Fae.
Not that it surprised her. Full Fae could cast a glamour over themselves—could trick anyone into believing they were mere humans. But Merrick was one of the Fae king’s most vicious soldiers, and not even a glamour could mask the cloud of hostility that clung to him.
She’d heard the stories about him growing up, how the Fae called him the Death Whisperer—how alone, he’d taken out entire companies of soldiers that dared stand against him.
Lessia shakily set down the cup and wiped her hands on her breeches. “Merrick.”
Clasping her hands behind her back to prevent him from seeing them tremble, she swallowed. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
She winced as her voice wavered, and cast a quick glance toward her friends.
Thankfully, they were occupied, toasting with the soldier she’d sent over and laughing as more of his friends joined them, each with drinks in his hands.
Silently cursing herself for staying in the past two nights, she waited, stiffening as his magic continued to dance over her skin.
The layers of clothes she wore did nothing to keep the oily vibrations off her. On the contrary, she could almost hear the magic whispering through the wool.
She’d have to take a bath and scrub every inch of her body to feel clean again.
Merrick angled his head, always careful to keep his eyes averted from hers, his long fingers impatiently running over the surface of the bar. Bren eyed her as he swiftly placed a goblet of golden liquor before him. When she inclined her head, Bren slipped away, hurrying to the other side of the bar.
“Where were you the past few days?” Merrick lifted the cup, swirling the liquid a few times before he took a long sip.
Lessia followed his movements closely as he elegantly set it down, his tongue darting out to lick a stray drop off his full lips.
He moved like a snake: everything about him cold and calculated, as if he could lunge any second and deliver a fatal bite.
Clearing her throat, she inched backward but stilled when the magic coating her skin tightened its grip, warning her not to take another step.
She shouldn’t have sent the other guards home.
Merrick was the fourth Fae guard King Rioner had sent to watch over her. The others had lasted less than a week before they accidentally met her eyes and she sweetly asked them to leave and forget all about her. But Merrick had been a constant the past four years, not once meeting her gaze, not even allowing her a glimpse of the color of his eyes.
Although she was certain they were pure night—two dark windows peering into his lethal soul.
His magic nudged her again, like sharp daggers leaving stinging kisses on her back.
Lessia drew a deep breath. She only needed to assure him she hadn’t forgotten about the king’s orders; then she could leave, go home, and forget all about him until the next time he sought her out.
“I’ve been working. With so many taverns and gambling rooms to manage, I do have to spend time on paperwork as well. I can’t be out every night.”
Merrick remained quiet, but the air around him thickened with tension.
Lessia shuddered as she quickly continued. “I am planning on bringing some of the soldiers and captains home tonight, and my friends will ensure the soiree we’ll host will be the talk of the town for days. I’ve already let them know who I am. The king will be pleased to hear that most people in Asker are familiar with my name by now.”
His thick silver eyebrows twitched in irritation, the only emotion he ever allowed to cross the hard lines of his face.
At least when she was around.
But she doubted that face ever softened. There was a reason for his nickname, one she didn’t care to find out.
“You know as well as I do that our king is not pleased. He ordered you to make a name for yourself here, Lessia. He did not order you to become a harlot, a human plaything.”
Lessia stiffened, her nails digging into her palms until the smell of iron filled the air. But she wouldn’t allow herself to correct him. It was better he thought that of her than knew what she actually did when she was out of his sight.
“Well, I do own most of the taverns in this part of town now. And I’m respected amongst the merchants and barterers who pass through, so we get the best goods at decent prices. Even with the prices rising, I can keep costs down.” She swept out an arm toward the packed room. “That’s why everyone comes here, why we’re busy every night. I’d say I did pretty well. And I should expect our king would think so too.”
When Merrick’s nostrils flared, she clamped her lips shut.
Shifting, she studied his profile, the angry lines of his mouth as he sipped yet again from the goblet.
What she wouldn’t do for him to turn his face to hers, to meet those evil eyes and tell him to leave. Perhaps ask him to forget who he was entirely, tell him to move to the abandoned shifter island and never return.
All Havlands would be better for it.
But no such luck. Merrick tapped the bar again, and Bren immediately slipped up to refill his cup.
“I guess you’ll see for yourself soon enough,” he said quietly as Bren shuffled off.
Lessia didn’t think her heart could beat any harder, but when the tattoo on her arm burned in response to his words, burned for the first time in five years, she couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her. Her hand flew to cover her left arm, pulling at the tunic she wore to ensure it was covered.
Merrick downed the liquor and rose, towering over her as he turned to leave. She swore his lips curled slightly as his whisper brushed her ear. “King Rioner is coming to see you soon. He’s calling in the debt you owe him. I’d say be ready, but…” His face dipped toward her arm, knowing exactly what was hidden beneath the layers of clothes she always wore. “It’s not like you can escape it.”
She couldn’t breathe.
Even when Merrick’s magic finally released its death grip and his broad back disappeared as the tavern door slammed shut behind him, she had to lean against the bar to remain standing.
The Fae king was coming to Ellow.
He was finally coming for her.
Five years, she’d been out of his claws. Five years during which she’d almost forgotten the blood oath he’d forced her to swear to escape his dungeons.
But now her time was up.
Moving her hand to clasp at her chest, Lessia tried to draw deep breaths as flashes of darkness filled her vision, water dripping onto hard stone ringing in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the tavern. Her vision blurred as a crushing weight settled on her chest, and she desperately tried to force air down her lungs.
She couldn’t do this here.
A warm hand settled on her back, and a strangled noise left her when strong arms pulled her into a broad chest, shielding her from the room. Burrowing her face into the leather tunic, she let his arms envelop her—hide the tremors racking her body.
“You’re not there anymore. You’re never going back there. You’re safe, Lia,” Ardow whispered into her hair, his hands running up and down her back.
A dry sob shook her as his warm embrace reminded her of how she’d landed in the cellars in the first place, images of kind amber eyes and melodic laughs filling her mind, and overwhelming guilt constricted her throat.
“You’re safe, Lessia,” Ardow repeated.
He continued softly hushing her until her locked muscles relaxed, until air finally made its way into her lungs and her vision returned, the deafening sounds of the tavern following.
When the pressure on her chest lifted, Lessia finally pulled back and met her friend’s worried eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her stomach twisting at the moisture lining his eyes as they trailed across her face.
Ardow gently cupped her chin. “Don’t apologize. What happened?”
“It’s—” Her voice vanished, the blood oath she’d sworn taking her air once more, forbidding her to speak of the king—to speak of anything involving him.
Ardow’s eyes hardened, the warm brown deepening as his jaw clenched. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t even nod, could only keep her eyes on his until Ardow bowed his head in understanding, his teeth grinding so hard she could hear it over the bustling tavern.
Ardow was the first friend she’d made when she’d come to Ellow. Being part-Fae, he hadn’t shied away from her pointed ears. Instead, he’d stalked right up to her in a tavern not unlike this one and declared he was buying her a drink.
When he’d realized she’d only arrived in Ellow that morning, that she’d never set foot in human lands before that, he’d taken her in and offered her a spare room in his run-down apartment without another thought.
That’s also how Ardow had gotten around the blood oath.
Lessia hadn’t been able to explain why or how she ended up in Ellow, but he’d glimpsed the silver snake tattoo slithering up her arm one night when she made her way back from the washroom. With his Fae heritage, his grandfather being half-Fae, he knew immediately what it meant.
While she’d been prepared for him to throw her out headfirst when he saw the brand on her arm marking her a criminal, a Fae traitor, he’d only pulled her into his arms and whispered how sorry he was.
Soon after that, Ardow learned why she had nightmares, why the soft smatter of rain on a window made her flinch, and why she refused to sleep without a burning fire even during the warm summer months—getting to know the parts of her that she could never share or speak of.
Still, he didn’t know the whole story.
There was only so much he could guess.
“I’m okay, Ard. I promise.” Lessia glanced around the room, finding Amalise’s eyes glued on her, a question in them.
She tried to roll her eyes to wipe the serious expression off Amalise’s face, but when her friend’s ones narrowed, she sighed.
Ardow had filled Amalise in when Lessia decided to trust her, and she’d become even more protective after that. Not that it was a bad trait, especially in a best friend, but Lessia wouldn’t put either of them at risk, and now that her king was coming here…
Lessia steeled her spine.
She needed to find a way to keep them far away from him.
Dragging Ardow with her, she plastered a smile on her face and headed for her friends, swiping her half-full mug off the bar and downing the now-warm liquid.
She’d do what she did best.
Pretend, for a little while longer, that all was well.
Lessia shivered when the wind tore through her coat as they walked the winding path back to their home. Her friends giggled and gossiped beside her, and the drunken soldiers joined them, laughing and boasting about their adventures at sea.
Slinging an arm around her shoulders, Ardow tugged her close to his massive body to shield her from the icy gusts of snow that swirled around them.
The cliffs that Asker was built upon did little to shelter the town from the ocean breeze, which in summer was well needed but in the deepest winter caused ice to slither up the stone buildings lining the road, making the stone town seem as if it were made of crystal.
Ahead towered the white castle that once housed the monarchs of Ellow. Warm light flickered out of the many windows lining the tall walls, and soft music reached her ears over the wind.
The regent must be hosting some type of festivities.
She’d never been inside the castle, had never been invited when other merchants met to mingle there.
It wasn’t too surprising. After all, she owned only a few rowdy taverns and the odd gambling room and had a bit of a reputation for being senseless and flighty.
Ardow squeezed her shoulders when they neared the metal double doors to the old warehouse they lived in. It was abandoned when Lessia found it, and she’d acquired it for a bargain from a desperate merchant who was shutting down his business. With Amalise’s and Ardow’s help, she’d turned it into a home over the years.
“I’m heading to the office quickly.” Lessia slipped out of his embrace. “Keep them busy, will you?”
She flicked her eyes to Amalise and the two other women they typically spent their evenings with—Soria and Pellie—and the seven soldiers they’d dragged home, including the dark-haired one Amalise had spoken to all night.
Ardow nodded, but when he guided the rest left, up a spiraling staircase—toward the only room they allowed outsiders—Amalise doubled back, patting Ardow on the shoulder as she passed him.
Lessia arched a brow. “Have you tired of the soldier already?”
It wouldn’t be the first time. Amalise loved to flirt, but no man stayed around for long. And even though Lessia teased her about it, her heart tugged when her friend grinned at her.
Amalise had lost her first and only love when she was eighteen. Six years ago, he’d gone out with a boat, working as a fisherman, as most men in Ellow who weren’t nobles did, and after they’d been caught in a surprise storm, the only thing that returned was shards of wood crashing onto the beach.
Amalise had told her one night when they’d both drunk too much wine.
It was the only time Lessia had ever seen her cry.
Her eyes burned at the memory. Seeing Amalise so vulnerable had made Lessia share her own worst memory, one that hurt more than all the years she’d spent imprisoned. One that forever would taint any good memory she carried from her childhood.
One that still haunted her dreams.
“Where did you go just there?” Amalise’s grin faltered, her eyes filling with worry as she placed a hand on Lessia’s shoulder.
Lessia shook her head, pushing the laughing girl’s face out of her mind. “Nowhere good.” She tried to smile, but it ended up more of a grimace. “I’m heading to the office. You coming?”
Amalise nodded, and they shifted a large shelf blocking the hidden door to the right side of the warehouse.
As they opened the door and slipped in, muffled sounds filled the air around them: hushed voices and soft footsteps echoing through the large room before them, bouncing off the shiny, arched ceiling.
Lessia glanced at Amalise, and they both rolled their eyes at the same time.
“I guess it is too much to ask that they follow curfew.” Lessia grinned.
When a head popped through one of the ajar doors lining the wall to the left, dark eyes widening and quickly disappearing, and a soft knock sounded on one of the walls separating the twelve bedrooms, everything fell silent.
Lessia couldn’t stop a small giggle from escaping, and after one look at Amalise, they both erupted in laughter.
“We know you’re awake. Come out,” Lessia managed to get out in between fits of giggles.
Door after door opened and faces peered into the softly lit hallway, the firelight from the lanterns placed every few feet along the walls reflecting in their wide eyes.
Warmth spread in her chest when hesitant smiles lit some of the younger ones’ features, and when Fiona, one of the youngest additions, squealed and ran for them, Lessia let the warmth fill her entirely, shrugging off the last remnants of haunting memories.
She opened her arms and lifted Fiona up, hugging her tight. “You been up to no good, little one?” she whispered before setting her down.
Fiona looked up at her, eyes rounded and feet planted firmly as she mock-glared back. “Always.”
Lessia grinned at her while tucking a strand of dark hair behind Fiona’s delicately pointed ear, careful not to touch the wide scar weaving up her neck. “Good, I’d hate for it to get boring around here.”
Turning to the rest of the children, she searched for a new face, as another one should have arrived this morning. When she came up blank, she frowned and turned to Kalia, the oldest and the first child she’d ever offered a room here.
Now twenty-one, Kalia ran this place, and Lessia couldn’t be more grateful for her help. Kalia was a kind soul, and most of the children trusted her immediately, making their transition and Lessia’s life easier.
She’d met Kalia when they both were living on the streets of Vastala, and Lessia hadn’t forgotten how the girl risked her life when King Rioner’s men came for her. Even if her efforts were in vain, as soon as Lessia got out and was settled here, she’d sent one of the men now in her employ back to Vastala to find her.
Kalia had been living here ever since.
“He’s not doing too well,” Kalia said softly, ripping Lessia from her thoughts.
She gestured for Lessia to follow as she started walking toward the farthest bedroom.
Glancing at Amalise, who nodded and began shuffling the rest of them to bed, Lessia followed. Unease roiled in her gut as Kalia pushed the door open, and a small body lay curled up on the bed, facing the wall.
The boy was skin and bones, the clothes Kalia must have offered him hanging off his skinny shoulders. He didn’t react when they entered, his eyes vacantly staring into the white wall beside his bed.
Even if he looked and smelled clean, his raven hair was matted, falling far past his shoulders, indicating how long he’d roamed the streets of Vastala.
Too long.
Lessia sat down on the creaking mattress and lit the lantern beside the bed, nodding for Kalia to leave them, her eyes sweeping the bedroom as Kalia quietly left.
The room wasn’t much, but it was clean.
There were two beds, one still empty—the boy he would share this room with hovering outside to offer them privacy—and two small desks, each with its own chair. A worn rug covered the floor, and by the ends of the beds stood two small cabinets to store any belongings they might have. Not that this boy would have had much to bring with him, based on the state they’d found him in.
Her nostrils flared as she thought of the reason he’d been living on the streets. While the humans had learned something after the devastating war a century ago and finally treated most members of their society decently, the Fae hadn’t evolved at all.
King Rioner’s family still ruled the kin
A relentless hum of chatter and clattering of glasses pounded against her temples, and Lessia cast a longing glance at the door behind her.
It had been a long day already, and the only thing she wanted was to climb into bed—to be anywhere other than this teeming, blistering room.
Even the snow swirling outside the dusty windows behind her looked more welcoming.
But she needed to show her face tonight.
She’d spent the past few nights holed up in her study, and Lessia knew word would get back to her king. If she stayed in tonight as well, his henchman would come looking for her.
She’d tested his patience before—two days seemed to be the longest time she could escape his watch.
Sighing, Lessia flicked her hair and forced her lips to curl into a sly smile as she waved to try to get Bren the barkeep’s attention. A few patrons glanced her way, and she winked at two of the regulars when they raised their cups in her direction.
Bren was tied up, scrambling to take orders from thirsty soldiers who’d spent too many months at sea, so she rested her chin in one hand and traced the jagged outline of the wooden countertop with the other.
As she picked at the sticky surface, a drunken soldier barreled into her, jarring her arm off the counter and nearly tripping her.
Shaking her head, Lessia leaned back over the bar, but when the rough material of his uniform kept scraping against her arm, his hip painfully jutting into hers, she turned her head over her shoulder and glared at him.
“Could you move, please?” She pointedly glanced at the space beside him. “There’s plenty of room for both of us to order.”
The soldier swept his auburn hair out of his face and flashed her a drunken grin. “No need to frown, beautiful. I’m only trying to get a drink.”
His eyes roamed over her black cloak and the long-sleeved black tunic she wore beneath, and he arched a brow. “I’d buy you one. But you’re clearly not here to socialize.”
With that, he turned back to the bar, leaning over the dark wood to give a wobbly wave to Bren.
Lessia rolled her eyes.
She knew her attire didn’t do her any favors, not like the beautiful dresses other women in the tavern wore, their laced corsets accentuating their waists and the capped sleeves showing off their slender arms.
But it wasn’t like she had a choice.
The soldier kept trying to get Bren’s attention, and she couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at her lips at his feeble attempts. The tavern was too busy tonight; there was little chance Bren would prioritize him over the many patrons he knew.
Especially when Lessia stood next to him.
A hand squeezed her shoulder, and she spun around, finding her best friend in one of those beautiful dresses she’d admired.
Gray, with white detailing trailing up the long skirts, the dress was simple but beautiful against Amalise’s blonde tresses and huge blue eyes. And it had short sleeves, so she probably didn’t have sweat dripping down her neck like Lessia did.
She dragged a hand through her wavy hair. “Is this one giving you trouble, Lia?”
Lessia shook her head. “I’m good.”
When Amalise narrowed her eyes and a familiar wicked sheen glinted in them, Lessia stepped into her path.
Too often, a situation like this escalated into a brawl, and with tension already heavy in the air from restless soldiers, Lessia wouldn’t be surprised if the whole tavern got involved after one punch.
That she was too tired for.
She let some of her own wickedness fill her eyes and offered Amalise an edged smile. “I told you I’ve got this, Amalise. You go back to whatever poor man you plan on dragging home tonight.”
Lessia waved toward the table where the rest of their friends sat and where a group of soldiers and merchants hovered nearby to try their luck with the beautiful women.
Amalise scowled, but when Lessia kept her feet firmly planted, she shrugged and drew a breath to calm herself. Amalise could be a bit protective, and her temper rivaled Lessia’s—which was one of the reasons they became instant friends when Lessia arrived in Ellow five years ago.
Finally, a smile overtook her face, and Amalise wiggled her brows, whispering theatrically, “I’m thinking the one over there.”
She not-so-subtly pointed to a tall soldier whose eyes were fixed on them and who was clad in the same navy uniform as the man next to Lessia but with wavy black hair spilling far down his back.
Amalise pursed her lips when her eyes snapped back to Lessia’s. “He’s got better hair than me! I need to know his secret.”
Lessia snorted. Amalise didn’t need any beauty tips. She was already the most gorgeous woman Lessia had ever seen. And Amalise knew it.
Lessia’s eyes trailed her friend as she approached the soldier. Her full hips swayed seductively as she stepped up one step too close, invading his space to whisper something in his ear.
Snickering to herself, Lessia turned back to the bar.
The soldier who’d bumped into her had managed to order a few cups of ale and slipped Bren some silvers.
Bren’s eyes widened when they locked with hers, an apology ready at the tip of his tongue, but Lessia winked at him, gesturing toward the rest of the bar, where dozens of people leaned across the surface, desperate for his attention.
When he still hesitated, she waved her hand again, offering him a wide smile.
Although from the look on his face, she wasn’t sure if it reassured him, as his posture remained tense when he finally approached another patron.
Shifting her eyes back to the soldier, Lessia tapped his shoulder. “I know you’re new here, so I’ll give you a pass this time. But me and my friends over there”—Lessia jerked her head toward the table where Amalise and a few others eyed them closely—“are thirsty. And we order first around here.”
He seemed to prepare to respond with something snarky, but his gaze swept over her again, and his muddy brown eyes widened. “You’re—”
“Half-Fae. Was it the ears? Or perhaps the teeth?” She couldn’t help but let her lip curl, showing off her sharp canines, her grin creeping wider when the soldier inched backward.
“Or was it maybe the height?” Lessia straightened to her full five-nine stature, leveling her amber eyes with his frightened ones.
The soldier stared at her with the bar pressed into his back, the air around him crackling with nervous energy and fear seeping into his scent.
Lessia softened her gaze. “Is this your first time on Asker?”
His quivering chin dipped.
Gods, he must hail from one of the remote isles in Ellow if he hadn’t encountered Fae or even half-Fae before. Not that there were that many half-Fae on the human isles—or in Havlands at all—but here on Asker, the capital island of Ellow, it wasn’t unheard of to run into one from time to time.
The air shifted as the soldier’s eyes narrowed. From the stale scent lacing his breath, it must have been ale bolstering his confidence, and his features twisted into a drunken sneer as he spat, “I don’t know who you think you are, halfling, and I truly don’t care. My friends and I just spent weeks at sea. We are thirsty.”
Her guilt instantly melted away, and Lessia clenched her jaw not to snarl at him.
Shifting her golden-brown hair out of her face and balling her hands into tight fists to keep her unpredictable Fae emotions in check, she hissed quietly, “I am going to give you one more chance, soldier. My friends and I own this part of town—including this tavern. You may apologize for the vile thing you just called me by heading over to them and distributing the drinks you bought.” She nodded toward the mugs of ale lining the bar behind him.
When the soldier scoffed and turned around to gather the cups and return to the rowdy group of soldiers he’d come with, a buzz filled her ears, and Lessia ground her teeth.
She shouldn’t.
Using magic on humans was not only illegal, as she’d break the most sacred stipulation of the treaty between humans and Fae; she’d also despise herself for it later.
But her patience was truly running thin today.
And she had a reputation to uphold.
Casting a quick glance around the room, making sure no one looked their way, she blew out a deep breath and closed her eyes. The corners of her mouth lifted as her magic purred at the chance to be unleashed.
It had been months since she last used her so-called gift.
When her eyes flew open, she stared at herself in the dusty mirror behind the counter, and a shiver snaked down her spine at how her eyes glowed like molten gold in the dim light.
Apart from the pointed ears, she could be mistaken for human, albeit a quite tall female, but when she let her magic reign like this, there was no mistaking her Fae heritage.
Once again, she tapped the soldier’s shoulder, and when his smug face snapped her way, his body stilled, his muscles locking.
“What the…”
The soldier backed into the counter once more, the ale in the two cups he held spilling onto his black boots.
Lessia closed the distance between them, gripping the lapel of his uniform jacket and bringing her face to his. She let her hair fall forward again, two bronze curtains concealing her face from the other patrons.
“What—what happened to your eyes?” The soldier’s voice shook as his gaze flitted between her hand and eyes.
Ignoring his question, she let magic seep into her voice, transforming it into a deep, seductive murmur as her eyes locked with his. “You will give those cups to my friends. And you’ll continue to buy us drinks all night—courtesy of your big, big heart,” she purred.
The soldier’s eyes glazed over, his posture relaxing as he nodded.
Smiling, Lessia continued. “As a matter of fact, you’ll be happy to do it. After tonight, you’ll remember that the harbor and the east side of Asker belong to me and my friends. And you want to please us. Please be sure to inform your friends as well.”
Lessia blinked, forcing the lingering magic back inside her until the unnatural glow left her eyes and her natural honey color returned.
Rolling her neck, she offered the soldier a sweet smile, tilting her head when he still hovered by the bar. “What are you waiting for?”
The soldier scrambled to gather all the cups in his hands, and Lessia laughed softly when he walked over and, with a smile on his face, distributed them amongst her friends, leaving a cup behind for her.
Grinning to herself, she lifted the mug to take a sip of ale. Even if she often felt like she cheated when she used her magic, since no soul in Havlands could withstand her commands, it was helpful in situations like this.
But Lessia’s smile fell when cold, oily magic rippled over her skin, and her hand froze midair. With the hair on the back of her neck rising and her Fae senses blaring, she whipped around so quickly the ale sloshed over her hands.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she beheld the silver-haired Fae slipping onto one of the high chairs beside her. The snow clinging to his gray cloak glittered in the dim light, and his tanned skin and the cascading waves of his shoulder-length hair shimmered—even in the depths of winter.
“That’s what you waste your magic on? Some free ale and a simple human?” His deep voice rumbled through her, her heart beating in rhythm with his fingers tapping the bar.
Even with his glamour in place, the soldiers around them retreated, keeping a respectful distance—their dull human senses picking up on the danger radiating from the Fae.
Not that it surprised her. Full Fae could cast a glamour over themselves—could trick anyone into believing they were mere humans. But Merrick was one of the Fae king’s most vicious soldiers, and not even a glamour could mask the cloud of hostility that clung to him.
She’d heard the stories about him growing up, how the Fae called him the Death Whisperer—how alone, he’d taken out entire companies of soldiers that dared stand against him.
Lessia shakily set down the cup and wiped her hands on her breeches. “Merrick.”
Clasping her hands behind her back to prevent him from seeing them tremble, she swallowed. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
She winced as her voice wavered, and cast a quick glance toward her friends.
Thankfully, they were occupied, toasting with the soldier she’d sent over and laughing as more of his friends joined them, each with drinks in his hands.
Silently cursing herself for staying in the past two nights, she waited, stiffening as his magic continued to dance over her skin.
The layers of clothes she wore did nothing to keep the oily vibrations off her. On the contrary, she could almost hear the magic whispering through the wool.
She’d have to take a bath and scrub every inch of her body to feel clean again.
Merrick angled his head, always careful to keep his eyes averted from hers, his long fingers impatiently running over the surface of the bar. Bren eyed her as he swiftly placed a goblet of golden liquor before him. When she inclined her head, Bren slipped away, hurrying to the other side of the bar.
“Where were you the past few days?” Merrick lifted the cup, swirling the liquid a few times before he took a long sip.
Lessia followed his movements closely as he elegantly set it down, his tongue darting out to lick a stray drop off his full lips.
He moved like a snake: everything about him cold and calculated, as if he could lunge any second and deliver a fatal bite.
Clearing her throat, she inched backward but stilled when the magic coating her skin tightened its grip, warning her not to take another step.
She shouldn’t have sent the other guards home.
Merrick was the fourth Fae guard King Rioner had sent to watch over her. The others had lasted less than a week before they accidentally met her eyes and she sweetly asked them to leave and forget all about her. But Merrick had been a constant the past four years, not once meeting her gaze, not even allowing her a glimpse of the color of his eyes.
Although she was certain they were pure night—two dark windows peering into his lethal soul.
His magic nudged her again, like sharp daggers leaving stinging kisses on her back.
Lessia drew a deep breath. She only needed to assure him she hadn’t forgotten about the king’s orders; then she could leave, go home, and forget all about him until the next time he sought her out.
“I’ve been working. With so many taverns and gambling rooms to manage, I do have to spend time on paperwork as well. I can’t be out every night.”
Merrick remained quiet, but the air around him thickened with tension.
Lessia shuddered as she quickly continued. “I am planning on bringing some of the soldiers and captains home tonight, and my friends will ensure the soiree we’ll host will be the talk of the town for days. I’ve already let them know who I am. The king will be pleased to hear that most people in Asker are familiar with my name by now.”
His thick silver eyebrows twitched in irritation, the only emotion he ever allowed to cross the hard lines of his face.
At least when she was around.
But she doubted that face ever softened. There was a reason for his nickname, one she didn’t care to find out.
“You know as well as I do that our king is not pleased. He ordered you to make a name for yourself here, Lessia. He did not order you to become a harlot, a human plaything.”
Lessia stiffened, her nails digging into her palms until the smell of iron filled the air. But she wouldn’t allow herself to correct him. It was better he thought that of her than knew what she actually did when she was out of his sight.
“Well, I do own most of the taverns in this part of town now. And I’m respected amongst the merchants and barterers who pass through, so we get the best goods at decent prices. Even with the prices rising, I can keep costs down.” She swept out an arm toward the packed room. “That’s why everyone comes here, why we’re busy every night. I’d say I did pretty well. And I should expect our king would think so too.”
When Merrick’s nostrils flared, she clamped her lips shut.
Shifting, she studied his profile, the angry lines of his mouth as he sipped yet again from the goblet.
What she wouldn’t do for him to turn his face to hers, to meet those evil eyes and tell him to leave. Perhaps ask him to forget who he was entirely, tell him to move to the abandoned shifter island and never return.
All Havlands would be better for it.
But no such luck. Merrick tapped the bar again, and Bren immediately slipped up to refill his cup.
“I guess you’ll see for yourself soon enough,” he said quietly as Bren shuffled off.
Lessia didn’t think her heart could beat any harder, but when the tattoo on her arm burned in response to his words, burned for the first time in five years, she couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her. Her hand flew to cover her left arm, pulling at the tunic she wore to ensure it was covered.
Merrick downed the liquor and rose, towering over her as he turned to leave. She swore his lips curled slightly as his whisper brushed her ear. “King Rioner is coming to see you soon. He’s calling in the debt you owe him. I’d say be ready, but…” His face dipped toward her arm, knowing exactly what was hidden beneath the layers of clothes she always wore. “It’s not like you can escape it.”
She couldn’t breathe.
Even when Merrick’s magic finally released its death grip and his broad back disappeared as the tavern door slammed shut behind him, she had to lean against the bar to remain standing.
The Fae king was coming to Ellow.
He was finally coming for her.
Five years, she’d been out of his claws. Five years during which she’d almost forgotten the blood oath he’d forced her to swear to escape his dungeons.
But now her time was up.
Moving her hand to clasp at her chest, Lessia tried to draw deep breaths as flashes of darkness filled her vision, water dripping onto hard stone ringing in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the tavern. Her vision blurred as a crushing weight settled on her chest, and she desperately tried to force air down her lungs.
She couldn’t do this here.
A warm hand settled on her back, and a strangled noise left her when strong arms pulled her into a broad chest, shielding her from the room. Burrowing her face into the leather tunic, she let his arms envelop her—hide the tremors racking her body.
“You’re not there anymore. You’re never going back there. You’re safe, Lia,” Ardow whispered into her hair, his hands running up and down her back.
A dry sob shook her as his warm embrace reminded her of how she’d landed in the cellars in the first place, images of kind amber eyes and melodic laughs filling her mind, and overwhelming guilt constricted her throat.
“You’re safe, Lessia,” Ardow repeated.
He continued softly hushing her until her locked muscles relaxed, until air finally made its way into her lungs and her vision returned, the deafening sounds of the tavern following.
When the pressure on her chest lifted, Lessia finally pulled back and met her friend’s worried eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her stomach twisting at the moisture lining his eyes as they trailed across her face.
Ardow gently cupped her chin. “Don’t apologize. What happened?”
“It’s—” Her voice vanished, the blood oath she’d sworn taking her air once more, forbidding her to speak of the king—to speak of anything involving him.
Ardow’s eyes hardened, the warm brown deepening as his jaw clenched. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t even nod, could only keep her eyes on his until Ardow bowed his head in understanding, his teeth grinding so hard she could hear it over the bustling tavern.
Ardow was the first friend she’d made when she’d come to Ellow. Being part-Fae, he hadn’t shied away from her pointed ears. Instead, he’d stalked right up to her in a tavern not unlike this one and declared he was buying her a drink.
When he’d realized she’d only arrived in Ellow that morning, that she’d never set foot in human lands before that, he’d taken her in and offered her a spare room in his run-down apartment without another thought.
That’s also how Ardow had gotten around the blood oath.
Lessia hadn’t been able to explain why or how she ended up in Ellow, but he’d glimpsed the silver snake tattoo slithering up her arm one night when she made her way back from the washroom. With his Fae heritage, his grandfather being half-Fae, he knew immediately what it meant.
While she’d been prepared for him to throw her out headfirst when he saw the brand on her arm marking her a criminal, a Fae traitor, he’d only pulled her into his arms and whispered how sorry he was.
Soon after that, Ardow learned why she had nightmares, why the soft smatter of rain on a window made her flinch, and why she refused to sleep without a burning fire even during the warm summer months—getting to know the parts of her that she could never share or speak of.
Still, he didn’t know the whole story.
There was only so much he could guess.
“I’m okay, Ard. I promise.” Lessia glanced around the room, finding Amalise’s eyes glued on her, a question in them.
She tried to roll her eyes to wipe the serious expression off Amalise’s face, but when her friend’s ones narrowed, she sighed.
Ardow had filled Amalise in when Lessia decided to trust her, and she’d become even more protective after that. Not that it was a bad trait, especially in a best friend, but Lessia wouldn’t put either of them at risk, and now that her king was coming here…
Lessia steeled her spine.
She needed to find a way to keep them far away from him.
Dragging Ardow with her, she plastered a smile on her face and headed for her friends, swiping her half-full mug off the bar and downing the now-warm liquid.
She’d do what she did best.
Pretend, for a little while longer, that all was well.
Lessia shivered when the wind tore through her coat as they walked the winding path back to their home. Her friends giggled and gossiped beside her, and the drunken soldiers joined them, laughing and boasting about their adventures at sea.
Slinging an arm around her shoulders, Ardow tugged her close to his massive body to shield her from the icy gusts of snow that swirled around them.
The cliffs that Asker was built upon did little to shelter the town from the ocean breeze, which in summer was well needed but in the deepest winter caused ice to slither up the stone buildings lining the road, making the stone town seem as if it were made of crystal.
Ahead towered the white castle that once housed the monarchs of Ellow. Warm light flickered out of the many windows lining the tall walls, and soft music reached her ears over the wind.
The regent must be hosting some type of festivities.
She’d never been inside the castle, had never been invited when other merchants met to mingle there.
It wasn’t too surprising. After all, she owned only a few rowdy taverns and the odd gambling room and had a bit of a reputation for being senseless and flighty.
Ardow squeezed her shoulders when they neared the metal double doors to the old warehouse they lived in. It was abandoned when Lessia found it, and she’d acquired it for a bargain from a desperate merchant who was shutting down his business. With Amalise’s and Ardow’s help, she’d turned it into a home over the years.
“I’m heading to the office quickly.” Lessia slipped out of his embrace. “Keep them busy, will you?”
She flicked her eyes to Amalise and the two other women they typically spent their evenings with—Soria and Pellie—and the seven soldiers they’d dragged home, including the dark-haired one Amalise had spoken to all night.
Ardow nodded, but when he guided the rest left, up a spiraling staircase—toward the only room they allowed outsiders—Amalise doubled back, patting Ardow on the shoulder as she passed him.
Lessia arched a brow. “Have you tired of the soldier already?”
It wouldn’t be the first time. Amalise loved to flirt, but no man stayed around for long. And even though Lessia teased her about it, her heart tugged when her friend grinned at her.
Amalise had lost her first and only love when she was eighteen. Six years ago, he’d gone out with a boat, working as a fisherman, as most men in Ellow who weren’t nobles did, and after they’d been caught in a surprise storm, the only thing that returned was shards of wood crashing onto the beach.
Amalise had told her one night when they’d both drunk too much wine.
It was the only time Lessia had ever seen her cry.
Her eyes burned at the memory. Seeing Amalise so vulnerable had made Lessia share her own worst memory, one that hurt more than all the years she’d spent imprisoned. One that forever would taint any good memory she carried from her childhood.
One that still haunted her dreams.
“Where did you go just there?” Amalise’s grin faltered, her eyes filling with worry as she placed a hand on Lessia’s shoulder.
Lessia shook her head, pushing the laughing girl’s face out of her mind. “Nowhere good.” She tried to smile, but it ended up more of a grimace. “I’m heading to the office. You coming?”
Amalise nodded, and they shifted a large shelf blocking the hidden door to the right side of the warehouse.
As they opened the door and slipped in, muffled sounds filled the air around them: hushed voices and soft footsteps echoing through the large room before them, bouncing off the shiny, arched ceiling.
Lessia glanced at Amalise, and they both rolled their eyes at the same time.
“I guess it is too much to ask that they follow curfew.” Lessia grinned.
When a head popped through one of the ajar doors lining the wall to the left, dark eyes widening and quickly disappearing, and a soft knock sounded on one of the walls separating the twelve bedrooms, everything fell silent.
Lessia couldn’t stop a small giggle from escaping, and after one look at Amalise, they both erupted in laughter.
“We know you’re awake. Come out,” Lessia managed to get out in between fits of giggles.
Door after door opened and faces peered into the softly lit hallway, the firelight from the lanterns placed every few feet along the walls reflecting in their wide eyes.
Warmth spread in her chest when hesitant smiles lit some of the younger ones’ features, and when Fiona, one of the youngest additions, squealed and ran for them, Lessia let the warmth fill her entirely, shrugging off the last remnants of haunting memories.
She opened her arms and lifted Fiona up, hugging her tight. “You been up to no good, little one?” she whispered before setting her down.
Fiona looked up at her, eyes rounded and feet planted firmly as she mock-glared back. “Always.”
Lessia grinned at her while tucking a strand of dark hair behind Fiona’s delicately pointed ear, careful not to touch the wide scar weaving up her neck. “Good, I’d hate for it to get boring around here.”
Turning to the rest of the children, she searched for a new face, as another one should have arrived this morning. When she came up blank, she frowned and turned to Kalia, the oldest and the first child she’d ever offered a room here.
Now twenty-one, Kalia ran this place, and Lessia couldn’t be more grateful for her help. Kalia was a kind soul, and most of the children trusted her immediately, making their transition and Lessia’s life easier.
She’d met Kalia when they both were living on the streets of Vastala, and Lessia hadn’t forgotten how the girl risked her life when King Rioner’s men came for her. Even if her efforts were in vain, as soon as Lessia got out and was settled here, she’d sent one of the men now in her employ back to Vastala to find her.
Kalia had been living here ever since.
“He’s not doing too well,” Kalia said softly, ripping Lessia from her thoughts.
She gestured for Lessia to follow as she started walking toward the farthest bedroom.
Glancing at Amalise, who nodded and began shuffling the rest of them to bed, Lessia followed. Unease roiled in her gut as Kalia pushed the door open, and a small body lay curled up on the bed, facing the wall.
The boy was skin and bones, the clothes Kalia must have offered him hanging off his skinny shoulders. He didn’t react when they entered, his eyes vacantly staring into the white wall beside his bed.
Even if he looked and smelled clean, his raven hair was matted, falling far past his shoulders, indicating how long he’d roamed the streets of Vastala.
Too long.
Lessia sat down on the creaking mattress and lit the lantern beside the bed, nodding for Kalia to leave them, her eyes sweeping the bedroom as Kalia quietly left.
The room wasn’t much, but it was clean.
There were two beds, one still empty—the boy he would share this room with hovering outside to offer them privacy—and two small desks, each with its own chair. A worn rug covered the floor, and by the ends of the beds stood two small cabinets to store any belongings they might have. Not that this boy would have had much to bring with him, based on the state they’d found him in.
Her nostrils flared as she thought of the reason he’d been living on the streets. While the humans had learned something after the devastating war a century ago and finally treated most members of their society decently, the Fae hadn’t evolved at all.
King Rioner’s family still ruled the kin
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A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly
Sophia St. Germain
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