Death Wind

by Tara Grayce

  Melantha pushed to her feet. Yet, the moment she moved, something tugged against her ankle.

  She lifted the ragged ends of her dress and peered at her feet.

  A root snaked from the floor and wrapped around her ankle.

  She was still a prisoner, this time of her own people. Melantha sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. After all the time captured by the trolls, hanging her hopes for rescue, she had forgotten that she was still a traitor in Tarenhiel. The rescue had never been for her. Only for Farrendel.

  She had not even gained the redemption she had sought. She had broken her own feet, yet, in the end, that annoying human princess had been the one to rescue him.

  Melantha groaned and rested her forehead on her knees. Her dislike of Princess Elspeth no longer had anything to do with her being a human. Well, not only that. It was mostly because she was too perky, too perfect, too sugary sweet. It was enough to make an elf’s teeth rot out just from spending too much time with her.

  In short, Princess Elspeth was everything Melantha had never managed to be. Content, even in difficult circumstances. Compassionate and kind to everyone she met. Happy, instead of simmering with anger. It was infuriating.

  Footsteps crunched, and her brother’s voice sounded outside. Several other voices answered him.

  Guards. Her own brother was keeping her under guard.

  Then again, she deserved it. She had been a traitor to her kingdom and betrayed her own brother to torture and death.

  Was Farrendel all right? What if Melantha’s magic had not been enough to save him?

  If Farrendel had died...would Weylind consider execution a fitting punishment, even for his own sister?

  The canvas was pushed aside, and Weylind ducked through the opening, giving her a brief glimpse of the deep darkness of night. Was it the middle of the night? After being down in the dungeon for so long without the sun, her hours were mixed up.

  He straightened, letting the canvas fall into place behind him, before he looked at her. His brown eyes were as cold as the ice of this kingdom.

  Almost, Melantha wanted to be back in that dungeon. There, she could pretend that her family would still love her once they were rescued and things were as simple as surviving.

  She forced herself not to quail beneath Weylind’s gaze. “How is Farrendel? Is he all right?”

  Weylind’s jaw tightened, and for a long moment, it seemed he would not answer.

  Melantha’s stomach clenched. No. Surely Farrendel had not died. He was too strong for that, and he had wanted to return to his human princess far too much to die when rescue was so close.

  “He is resting.” Weylind’s jaw worked, as if that much was more than he had wanted to tell her. As if he did not believe she deserved to know.

  Melantha let out a long breath. This had been her goal. Return Farrendel to their family.

  Yet, why did it all feel so hollow?

  “How could you do this, Melantha? Betray Tarenhiel. Betray Farrendel.” Weylind paced, his hands clasped behind his back, his face drawn.

  “It was wrong. I am sorry.” She did not have any defense for her actions. It was not as if she had not meant for this to happen. She had. She merely had not meant to get caught in it herself or have to witness Farrendel’s torture. “But I helped him. Has he told you that? I kept him alive. Convinced Prince Rharreth to let him have a blanket. Healed him enough that he could use his magic. I broke my own feet to escape my cell and fought six trolls to stop them from killing him.”

  Weylind whirled on her, eyes still hard. “And did you do that for his sake? Or for yours?”

  “What?” Melantha reeled back, gaping at her brother. “I...”

  Had she truly done all of that for Farrendel? Or had she done it because of what she could get out of it? Earning redemption and forgiveness. Proving that she had changed.

  But if those were her motives, had she changed? Or was she still manipulating Farrendel to try to get what she wanted?

  Perhaps she was still selfish enough to try to earn redemption by helping him. But that had not been her only reason. She had genuinely wanted to make sure Farrendel lived. Maybe she was not as saccharinely good as Princess Elspeth who did things purely unselfishly, but she had managed to be a mix of selfish and unselfish. It was good enough, right? As much as could be expected?

  But Weylind’s gaze had gone from hard to such a depth of pained disappointment, Melantha had to look away. She and Weylind had always been close. They had done everything together when they were growing up. Then they had weathered all of their family’s storms as adults.

  But all that lay shattered between them, thanks to what she had done.

  “I helped him for his sake and for mine.” She stared at her hands in her lap. “Please, Weylind, can I see him?”

  She needed to see for herself that he was all right. None of the healers knew how to work alongside troll magic the way she did after all the practice she had. She could still help him.

  More than that, she needed to know how she stood with Farrendel. They had forged something of a new bond in that dungeon cell, but would it last now that they were rescued? He had needed her because she was the only one there. But now that he had the entire family caring for him, would he still be as forgiving toward her?

  Weylind faced her, back rigid. “No, you are not allowed anywhere near him. I will protect Farrendel from you. If he ever wants to see you again, it will be up to him, not you.”

  She flinched, hunching under the pain. After her betrayal, what else had she expected? Even if Farrendel forgave her, that did not mean he had to restore the brother-sister relationship. She had given up all rights to that relationship the moment she had tried to use the trolls to murder him.

  “I understand.” Melantha swallowed and stared at the floor by Weylind’s feet. If Weylind was this angry, what was he planning to do to her? She was a traitor. By elven law, he could order her execution in the forsaken wood.

  Surely Weylind would not order that for her.

  Yet, his only other option for punishment would be banishment. Where would she go? Escarland would not take her. The other human kingdoms were not accepting of elves. Perhaps there was another elven kingdom at the far distant end of the continent that would take her?

  Perhaps Weylind would pardon her. Maybe give her a lesser punishment? Did she dare hope for such a thing?

  She hugged her knees tighter to her chest. “What happens to me now?”

  Weylind heaved a long sigh. “I do not know. You are a traitor to Tarenhiel and plotted the murder of a member of the royal family. Even a supposed change of heart cannot change the fact that, in the eyes of the law, you must be punished. I cannot turn a blind eye to your crimes nor can I sweep such egregious acts away with a pardon.”

  Something in her chest crumpled. No pardon. That meant, this ordeal was far from over. If anything, it was just beginning.

  “But...you are still my sister.” Weylind’s face twisted, his dark eyes filled with pain. “I will not have you executed. I could not bear it, nor would Farrendel wish it.”

  Of course, he would not. He was far too good for that. He and his human princess were alike, in that way. Melantha stared at Weylind’s boots. “I will be banished, then.”

  Banished. Never to see her family again. Pain seared Melantha’s chest, her breath seizing with an intense longing for the deep forest of Tarenhiel, her room in Ellonahshinel, her family sitting around the dining table. All the simple, wonderful beauty of home.

  A home that was no longer hers. That would never be hers again.

  In trying to return her life to what it had been before her mother died, she had lost the life she currently had. She should have been more thankful for the things and people she had. Instead, she had lost everything.

  “You have a choice. Banishment or...” Weylind halted his pacing to face her. “Prince Rharreth of the trolls has asked for a marriage alliance as part of the new peace treaty.”r />
  And, obviously, Weylind was not going to marry Jalissa to the troll prince. No, if anyone was sacrificed to a marriage alliance with the trolls, it would be the sister who had made herself an expendable outcast.

  “A marriage alliance would make our treaty with the trolls stronger. I am not sure the treaty will hold for long without something more binding than a piece of paper behind it.” Weylind’s voice took on its official, emotionless tone. “There would be benefits to you, as well. You would be a queen. I would declare that your marriage to Prince Rharreth was your punishment. It would be essentially banishment and would satisfy those who would argue I am granting you preferential treatment. Yet, you would not technically be banished. You could still visit Tarenhiel on a limited basis in an official capacity.”

  But not as family. Perhaps only when Farrendel was elsewhere, visiting his new Escarlish family.

  Or, worse, when he was present and everyone could coldly shun her as punishment for what she had done.

  Would she deserve anything else? After all, cold shunning was exactly what she had been doing to that human princess.

  “But I understand if banishment would still be preferable. I have talked with Farrendel about Prince Rharreth, but Farrendel was too tired to say much besides that he believes the troll prince is honorable.” Weylind’s back and tone had gone stiff once again.

  “He was...” How to describe Prince Rharreth’s actions? “He started out cold, but not cruel. He merely followed orders. But he eventually softened, allowing me to help Farrendel. He was even punished for it, once King Charvod discovered what he had done.”

  And Prince Rharreth had pushed her to be a better, more honorable person. His coldness toward her at the start had been fueled by his own disgust at her betrayal of her kingdom and her own brother.

  In her torn dress, the marks on her back were probably visible. Of all the ironies. She had once scorned Farrendel for being scarred and imperfect. And yet, now she was also scarred, and would be for the rest of her life.

  “I see.” Weylind’s shoulders relaxed, as if he had been worried about marrying her to a cruel troll. Or, maybe he was more worried about making a peace treaty with a cruel troll than about her.

  Prince Rharreth was not cruel. Not the way his brother had been.

  But did she wish to marry him?

  No, not really. She did not want to marry any troll. Nor did she want to stay here in this dark, ice and stone kingdom for the rest of her life. Her breathing quickened, the cold and darkness already pressing against her. She would suffocate here. Slowly wither and die like a plant robbed of the sun.

  But she would help her kingdom. By helping Farrendel, she had done her best to redeem herself for betraying him. Maybe with this, she could redeem the wrong she had done in betraying her kingdom by instead sacrificing herself for it.

  There were those among the elven court who would believe that she had continued to choose the trolls over her own people.

  But her family would know the truth, would they not?

  Besides, she would never marry an elf now, not after what she had done, much less marry an elf she could love. Why should she not marry a troll? One loveless marriage was just as good or just as bad as another. She might as well save her kingdom while she was at it.

  It was either marriage or banishment. And, if she was going to be banished to a foreign kingdom, she might as well be its queen rather than a penniless, homeless, friendless foreigner.

  Melantha straightened her back. “Very well. I agree to the marriage alliance.”

  Weylind’s eyebrows shot up. “You can take some time to think about it.”

  “It is what is best for Tarenhiel.” Melantha raised her chin. “If you were willing to sacrifice Farrendel for peace with Escarland, then why not sacrifice me for peace with Kostaria?”

  “You are still my sister, Melantha. I have no wish to see you hurt, even after everything you have done.” Weylind scrubbed a hand over his face.

  She had put him in a hard position. Having to choose between justice for one sibling and mercy for another. Between what was best for his sister and best for his kingdom.

  “I know. And, I am sorry.” There was not much else she could say, even if those three words seemed so small compared to the magnitude of what she had done.

  Weylind nodded and turned toward the door. “I will ask one of the guards to send in a tray and will convey your acceptance of the marriage alliance to Prince Rharreth.”

  Without a backward glance in her direction, he left.

  Melantha held herself cold and regal until after an elf warrior delivered a tray of food. He stuck the plate inside without looking at her.

  Then, and only then, did she allow herself to break. She curled into a ball on the blanket left for her, pressed her face into the crook of her arms to muffle the sound, and sobbed.

  After all she had endured, she remained a prisoner. There was no more hope. She was never going home again.

  FARRENDEL LAY on the operating table in the hospital tent once again, the wood warming against his back and a leather pillow providing scant padding for his head. He stared at the canvas ceiling, fighting the urge to sit up and lash out.

  This was not torture. He was not pinned down. He was not helpless.

  Yet, something about being laid out on the table made his skin crawl.

  Focus on something else. Anything else.

  He was finally clean, mostly. He had been strong enough to sponge himself off with a cloth and hot water earlier and wash his hair, not that it was too difficult with it cut so short. He had even managed to pull on clean trousers, though he had nearly passed out doing so.

  Those trousers were now rolled to his knees, waiting for the healers to remove the last of the stone lacing his ankles and legs. He was still missing a shirt, also waiting for this surgery to be over.

  Essie’s hand smoothed his hair, drawing his gaze to her as she stood by the table near his head. She gave him a smile. “It will be over soon. Then you won’t be in any more pain.”

  Farrendel nodded and forced himself to draw in a deep breath. Pain lanced through his chest from each place where stone still lay buried inside his body. His wrists throbbed. Agony stabbed through his ankles. The stone wrapped around his collarbone pounded pain into his temples.

  A human surgeon, the elf healer, and various nurses bustled around, laying out supplies. Both Weylind and Averett stood off to the side, eyeing Prince Rharreth in the other far corner.

  Farrendel’s breathing hitched, and he clenched his fists. It took all of his willpower to lie there, knowing Prince Rharreth was about to use his magic on him again. Supposedly to remove the rest of the stone, but would the troll prince do so? He had helped before, but what if he did not this time?

  If Farrendel reached through the heart bond, he could feel a faint crackle of his magic, even with the stone still inside him. If Prince Rharreth tried anything, Farrendel would be ready.

  The human surgeon cleared his throat. “I did not suggest it last time because he was too weak, but we can use ether to numb his senses this time.”

  Farrendel shook his head, his nose and throat burning with the memory of the human ether the trolls had used to keep him senseless on the trip to Gror Grar. “No.”

  The elf healer shook his head as well. “With the troll using his magic, Laesornysh needs to be conscious to keep his magic in control. It would be dangerous if he lashed out while unconscious.”

  “I have an ether that won’t make him unconscious. It will just dull his senses and the pain.” The surgeon gestured to a nurse, and she presented him with a glass bottle.

  “No.” Farrendel put as much strength into that word as he could. No more human chemicals. He would rather feel the pain.

  Essie’s fingers trailed from his hair to his shoulder as she sighed. “You heard him. Sorry, no ether.”

  The elf healer’s jaw tightened, dark circles still smudged beneath his eyes. “My magic should be e
nough to dull his pain.”

  That did not give Farrendel confidence. The elf healer looked like he could still use more rest after all the expenditure of magic he must have done after the battle. Would he have enough magic for this surgery?

  As much as Farrendel hated lying there, he had no wish to put this off any longer. It had been three days since his rescue, and he would not regain any more strength until the stone was removed.

  “All right.” The human surgeon picked up a scalpel and turned to Prince Rharreth. “Ready?”

  Essie’s hand moved to Farrendel’s forehead, her touch soft and warm. Still, Farrendel knew that she would hold him down if he tried to lift his head. She turned her shoulders to put her back to the troll prince, elf healer, and surgeon. “Focus on me, Farrendel.”

  He met her gaze and tried not to tense as soothing elf magic flooded into him. He felt the pressure of the scalpel against his collarbone, even if he did not feel the pain.

  Icy magic surrounded Prince Rharreth’s fingers a moment before pain surged through Farrendel’s bones.

  The elf healer cried out and stumbled back. Prince Rharreth cut off his magic, but not before the full force of it dug into Farrendel’s collarbone. Farrendel could not help a moan.

  Weylind was at Farrendel’s side in an instant, glaring at Prince Rharreth.

  The elf healer hunched over his hand. “I am sorry, Daresheni. After all the healing I have done, I am not strong enough. I doubt any of us are. We cannot rest properly with all this stone around us.”

  In other words, Farrendel would either have to bear the brunt of the troll magic or he would have to wait longer for the rest of the stone to be removed.

  Unless...He gripped Weylind’s arm and waited until Weylind met his gaze. He kept his voice and gaze firm. “Fetch Melantha.”

  “No. I will not allow her anywhere near you.” Weylind’s jaw hardened, his eyes flinty.

  How had Essie ever managed to get their brothers to work together if Weylind had turned this stubborn over every little thing? Farrendel tightened his grip on Weylind’s arm. He had to see Melantha again and reassure himself that she was all right. This was finally his opportunity to persuade Weylind to stop being her guard dog and let her see him. “Fetch her. She will help.”