Death Wind

by Tara Grayce

  He’d been stripped of all control over even the most basic things. He needed some of that restored to him.

  Essie held out the mug, and he gripped it in both hands. With her holding up his head, he lifted the mug to his mouth with his shaking hands and sipped. Essie resisted the urge to take the mug. Farrendel needed to do this himself. But she kept a hand free, in case he looked about ready to drop it.

  He managed a few sips, resting the mug on his chest for several minutes between each sip, as if he wanted to pretend he didn’t find the mug heavy.

  Essie managed to eat her own supper one-handed and kept up a lighthearted conversation with Edmund and Jalissa. When they were finished, Jalissa gathered the trays of food, and she and Edmund headed for the tent flap, Jalissa glancing over her shoulder before leaving as if to reassure herself one last time that Farrendel was really there.

  Once it was just her and Farrendel again, Essie turned back to him. He was shivering, his eyes squeezed shut.

  Essie gripped his hand. “Do you need more morphine? I can run after Edmund. They can’t have gone far, and he can get the surgeon.”

  “No.” Farrendel shook his head, though his jaw remained tight, as if he was clenching his teeth. “Just cold.”

  The fire in the wood-burning stove was already going merrily, and Essie didn’t see any more blankets to pile onto him. As he already had four blankets, he shouldn’t be cold.

  There was only one thing left to do. She gestured to him. “Scooch over.”

  His nose wrinkled as he glanced at her. “Scooch?”

  “Yes.” She lifted a corner of the top blanket. There wasn’t a whole lot of room next to him. Army cots were designed for only one person. But, Farrendel was thinner than the average Escarlish soldier, so that left a little bit of room.

  Farrendel squinted at her. “This cot is not intended for two people.”

  Of course he would manage a full sentence for that. She wasn’t going to admit she had just been thinking the same thing.

  Wiggling onto the cot next to him was more difficult than she’d expected. She nearly fell off several times, and the cot wobbled. With Farrendel so thin, she probably weighed more than he did right now.

  With a little squirming, she managed to tuck herself alongside Farrendel. The wooden side bar of the cot dug into her hip hard enough to leave a bruise, and she wasn’t sure what to do with her right arm. She couldn’t lay on it because of the wooden bar, and eventually she just tucked it awkwardly against her chest.

  Since she didn’t want to rest her head on Farrendel’s shoulder and possibly cause him pain, she tucked her head next to his. With her left hand, she clasped his, their hands resting on his chest.

  She squeezed his hand. “See. I fit.”

  “Barely.” Farrendel shifted. At first Essie thought he was trying to put space between them, but his movement gave her a fraction more room to fit more comfortably against him.

  “Are you warm enough now?” Hopefully he was. She was sweating thanks to her coat, the blanket, and the roaring fire in the stove.

  “Yes.” His voice was quieter, sleepier.

  “Good.” Essie closed her eyes and snuggled against him. Except for the boniness of Farrendel’s shoulder against her chin, his rank stench after two weeks without a proper wash layered over with the sting of antiseptic, and the cot’s bar digging into her, this would almost be comfortable. Perhaps they should have done a lot more snuggling in the past three months when they’d had a chance. Now that she had him back, she was going to make up for that lack.

  It would be a few hours until the diplomatic meeting. Surely she would have enough time for a nap.

  “I want to go home.” Farrendel’s murmured words were so quiet she wouldn’t have heard them if she hadn’t been snuggled up next to him.

  She kissed the tip of his ear. “We’ll get you home to Estyra just as soon as we can.”

  Though, how he was going to navigate the branches of Ellonahshinel when he was so weak, she didn’t know.

  “Estyra. Or Aldon. Both are home.”

  “Even after what had happened in Aldon?” Essie lifted her head so that she could better see his face. She’d never heard him refer to Aldon as home.

  “Yes.” He turned his face in her direction, though he didn’t open his eyes, as if too tired for that. “It was...nice until then.”

  She probably shouldn’t keep him up with talking. But she couldn’t help herself when it came to talking. She snuggled down next to him again. “I’m sure Averett has cleared out all the traitors, and it will be a lot safer the next time we visit. Whenever you’re ready. Though, maybe we’ll take a few more elven guards next time, and you should wear your swords all the time. No one would blame you. Oh, and we should invite Brina to Aldon. Not right away, of course. But sooner rather than later. She seems really fascinated with human culture. Though, your brother might find that rather appalling.”

  Farrendel gave a tiny snorting sound. “I missed your chatter.”

  Essie winced. “Even my nighttime rambling when you are trying to sleep?”

  “Yes.” His laugh was still in his voice, though it was breathed out on a yawn.

  Essie closed her eyes and tried to relax. Light streamed around the tent flap, and her body was telling her that it was still daytime. But she had been up a large chunk of the night. Surely she could use the rest.

  She must have dozed at one point. She woke with the brush of cold air on the back of her neck and Averett’s voice from behind her. “I see we should have knocked.”

  Essie shrieked and tried to roll off the cot, but she had been balanced too precariously. The moment she moved, she wobbled, her feet catching in the blankets, and tumbled to the ground with a shriek. The ground beneath the rug was hard, but Essie landed on her rear end, so the embarrassment hurt more than the landing.

  “Told you the cot was too small,” Farrendel murmured, though he reached out a hand to her as if to check she was all right.

  She patted his arm as she clambered to her feet. “Yes, yes, know-it-all elf. Just admit it. It was worth it.”

  This time, he didn’t even murmur but instead just gave a tiny smile.

  Averett was still standing there, smirking. Worse, Weylind was standing beside him, both eyebrows raised as if still hoping someone would provide him with that book on the care of humans one of these days.

  Averett crossed his arms as Edmund and Jalissa strode in behind him. “Done being all mushy?”

  “For now.” Essie stood and stepped aside.

  As soon as she was out of the way, Weylind strode across the tent, crashed to his knees next to the cot, gripped the back of Farrendel’s head, and pressed his forehead to his. “Shashon.”

  The depth in that one word. Weylind could be a stubborn pain, but he was a good brother to Farrendel. That wasn’t something that could be said for all of Farrendel’s siblings.

  Averett touched Essie’s arm, drawing her a few steps away, and spoke in a lowered tone. “I’m sorry to ask this of you, but the diplomatic meeting is going to start in a few minutes, and I’d like you to come as well. You—and your marriage alliance—are the reason Escarland is even here and invited to be a part of this treaty. I’d rather neither the elves nor the trolls forget that. It would be too easy for them to negotiate between them and leave Escarland out of it.”

  Essie hesitated, glancing between Averett and Farrendel. More than anything, she didn’t want to leave Farrendel’s side. If he should take a turn for the worse while she was elsewhere...

  But she was still a princess. This was still her duty.

  “And I’d like your peace-making skills. We’re going to need them.” Averett glanced over his shoulder, raising his voice above the whisper he had been using. “Besides, Edmund and Jalissa will stay with Farrendel and fetch us if anything changes.”

  Edmund nodded. “Of course, we will.”

  Perhaps it would be better to help with the diplomatic meeting. Farrendel nee
ded his rest, and he was more likely to sleep with Edmund and Jalissa here than with her keeping him awake with her chatter.

  Besides, with the heart bond, she would know if he took an unexpected turn for the worse.

  When she eased toward the cot, Weylind stood, giving her room. Farrendel had his eyes closed, breathing evenly.

  Essie stroked the ragged ends of Farrendel’s hair and kissed his cheek. “Rest, my love.”

  He stirred, but he did not wake.

  No matter. While he slept, she would help negotiate the peace treaty to end this war once and for all. Farrendel would never have to fight another battle. He would finally have the peace he deserved.

  That thought gave her the courage to turn, take Averett’s arm, and leave the tent.

  WHEN ESSIE CRAWLED through the door into the shelter following Averett, she found that someone had found—or made—a low, round table. Folded bedrolls formed cushions for sitting while paper and pens now lay on the table for drafting a treaty.

  Someone had even managed to track down the elven diplomat Sindrel and the Escarlish diplomat Master Wendee. Both of the diplomats had helped negotiate the first treaty between Tarenhiel and Escarland. They sat across the table from the entrance with Sindrel next to Weylind and Master Wendee next to Prince Rharreth, providing a buffer between the elves and the troll prince.

  That was exactly what Escarland’s role would be in this negotiation.

  Prince Rharreth and Weylind sat across from each other in a silence that managed to be both frosty and awkward. Both Escarlish and elven guards lined the walls of the shelter, all wearing the dour, impassive expression of guards pretending not to listen while remaining alert. Compared to this, that first diplomatic meeting between Weylind and Averett had been a friendly affair.

  Apparently, the friendliness would be up to her, even if she didn’t feel all that perky at the moment.

  Essie pasted on a smile and plopped down into one of the two remaining cushion seats around the table. She picked the one next to Weylind, leaving the final spot between her and Prince Rharreth for Averett. “I’m glad everyone was available for this meeting. It is a pleasure to sit down at this table with all of you.”

  Weylind and Prince Rharreth continued to glare at each other without a flicker to show they’d heard her. Prince Rharreth had one of his arms tucked close to his side, a burned hole in his jerkin above what looked like an injured shoulder. But he didn’t ask for aid or otherwise acknowledge that he was wounded.

  Essie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This was worse than trying to wrangle Weylind and Averett before they had managed to bond. Bonding probably wasn’t going to happen any time soon between Weylind and Prince Rharreth, but it would be nice if they didn’t try to stab each other with their glares.

  Averett cleared his throat. “I believe we can start with the framework we used for the peace treaty between Tarenhiel and Escarland and make modifications from there.”

  “A lot of modifications.” Weylind shifted to clench his fists while keeping his arms crossed. “I do not wish to encourage such open trade between Tarenhiel and Kostaria. A ceasing of hostilities is all we require.”

  “But not all that my kingdom requires.” Prince Rharreth’s shoulders remained stiff, but he kept his arms loosely resting on the table, both hands in view as if to prove he was not reaching for a weapon or preparing to use his magic. “There was a time when my people and yours were kin. The forest elves aided the mountain elves with their growing magic while we provided stonework and ice. But those days—and the time when we called ourselves elves—are long past.”

  “Long, long past,” Weylind muttered, though his words were loud enough he clearly wanted Prince Rharreth to hear.

  Prince Rharreth’s expression and tone didn’t waver. “In the centuries since the first rift between our peoples, we have done our best to survive in our mountains. But our ground is rocky and hard, and our growing season is short. My grandfather, father, and brother all believed the solution was to annex Tarenhiel and from there have access to Escarland’s fertile fields.”

  So the trolls had intended to attack Escarland all along. Essie highly doubted either of the past two troll kings would have been content to sit idly at the border begging for whatever her father and brother would give them in trade.

  Weylind’s glare competed with Prince Rharreth’s magic for iciness. “We are well aware of your family’s aggression.”

  Essie’s smile felt tight on her face. These two needed to talk this out. Perhaps if they shouted at each other and vented all their anger, then they could come to this table with reasonable solutions.

  The muscle at the corner of Prince Rharreth’s jaw tightened. “While I believe in honor and the defense of the homeland, I don’t believe this constant warfare was the way to help my people. In the end, all the ice and snow we used in fighting your people further hampered our growing season to the point that we couldn’t grow any crops this year. Very little last year. The game animals are scarce. Frankly, my people are starving. I will agree to much in order to save them from starvation. All I ask for are two things.”

  Weylind made a soft sound that was the elven version of a snort. “You surrendered. You do not make demands. We do.”

  Essie would have given in to a snort of her own but, since Weylind was failing to be his usual regal self, it was up to her and Averett to bring dignity and reason to these peace talks. If Weylind would stop acting like an angsty teenage elf, maybe they would get somewhere.

  Averett held up a placating hand toward Weylind, then turned to Prince Rharreth. “I would like to hear these demands. I am willing to accommodate reasonable requests.”

  Prince Rharreth faced Averett, something in his stance relaxing. Though, he still kept his injured arm stiff at his side. “First, I would like to establish trade with Escarland for some of your grains and produce. Tarenhiel is welcome to inspect the shipments as they pass through their kingdom to ensure it is nothing besides food.”

  Weylind scowled. Essie shot him her best warning look. It wasn’t like Weylind genuinely wanted to let the trolls starve. He was just being stubborn enough to argue with everything Prince Rharreth said.

  Averett gave a small nod. “What would Tarenhiel and Escarland get out of this arrangement?”

  “I believe our magically enhanced ice will last longer in your ice boxes than regular ice. And our stonework would be an asset to the homes of your nobility.” Prince Rharreth answered so readily it was clear he’d already thought of this answer long before Averett had asked the question. How long had he been planning peace talks like this? Had he been hoping all along for a chance to negotiate a treaty with Escarland? “As for Tarenhiel, I know you have no need of ice. Nor would you wish for our stonework, though you would have access to it if you found a need. But there would be transportation fees for the trade across your kingdom.”

  “I have no wish to turn Tarenhiel into a commercial transportation hub. It is not in our way of life.” Weylind’s crossed arms tightened.

  “We could bypass Tarenhiel and establish trade with Escarland through other kingdoms. But that would also mean you would not be able to inspect the goods to know that no more weapons are being traded.” Prince Rharreth’s gaze remained unwavering. “I am giving you the concession of controlling whatever trade goes in and out of Kostaria. I am putting my kingdom’s livelihood in your hands.”

  “That seems like a fair compromise.” Averett added, as if to cut off any objection Weylind might make, “I’m sure we can develop a way to conduct trade across Tarenhiel that would cause the least disruption possible.”

  “You do not have to be this accommodating.” Weylind didn’t slouch in his seat—an elven king would never be that undignified—but something about the set to his shoulders said he wanted to slump and glower.

  “Yes, I do. Because if we can find Kostaria’s version of shampoo, then all three of our kingdoms will be better off in the future.” Averett gestured a
round the table.

  Across the table, both Sindrel and Master Wendee had their heads down, scribbling furiously. Master Wendee glanced at Averett, but Sindrel kept his eyes focused on the page as if to pretend he wasn’t ignoring Weylind.

  Essie would’ve hugged Averett, if they hadn’t been in the middle of a diplomatic meeting. He was doing so well at this meeting. They might actually get out of this without another war starting. With how smoothly this was going, she would be able to get out of here and return to Farrendel soon.

  Averett faced Prince Rharreth again. “I have a request of my own, however. All Escarlish weapons which were illegally obtained from the traitors in my kingdom will be turned over to my army immediately. While I am willing to open trade with your kingdom, I am not willing to provide your kingdom with weapons at this time.”

  Prince Rharreth dipped his head in a nod. “That is reasonable. I believe your army has managed to either reclaim or destroy most of the weapons during your march across my kingdom, and most of the remaining weapons have been buried and destroyed in the collapse of Gror Grar. But I will see to the return of any weapons that still remain in my army’s hands as a sign of good faith.”

  Weylind softly snorted, his arms crossed, but he didn’t interrupt to object.

  “Thank you.” Averett gave a polite smile. He, too, seemed to think this negotiation was going well. “And what was your second request?”

  For the first time, Prince Rharreth hesitated, his gaze dipping to the table. “I have seen the results of the marriage alliance between Tarenhiel and Escarland. For that reason, I would like a marriage alliance between Tarenhiel and Kostaria.”

  Essie breathed her own spit into her lungs and held her breath, trying not to cough. That was...unexpected.

  Weylind made a choking sound, bracing himself against the table. “I beg your pardon. There is no way I am marrying one of my sisters to a troll. It was bad enough marrying my brother to a human.”