Death Wind

by Tara Grayce

  After what she had healed him from in the trolls’ dungeon, assisting him now would be a simple matter.

  “I will send for her.” Averett stepped from the tent so quickly he probably missed the glare Weylind sent after him.

  “Are you sure about this, Farrendel?” Essie stared down at him, a wrinkle between her eyebrows.

  Everyone, including Essie, expected him to hate Melantha. Perhaps it was understandable since their last memory of Melantha was of her betrayal.

  And, yes, her betrayal still hurt worse than the stone embedded in him. Everything was so strained. Painful. If he could erase his memory of her betrayal, he would.

  But Farrendel had seen the sincerity of her change of heart. She had expended every last ounce of her strength and magic to make sure he survived until rescue. She had taken physical punishment because she had helped him. They had spent long hours in that dungeon, talking as they had not talked in years.

  More than anything, he just wanted his sister back. The one he knew he could count on to plan his last-minute wedding and stand by his side willing to defend him. The sister he remembered running to as a boy, and she had always been there for him. He had not had a mother, but he had his older sister Melantha.

  Until suddenly, he did not.

  He had lost the relationship he had once had with Melantha. But did the pain have to remain? Could he fix things?

  Right now, his jumbled feelings did not matter. If he was to make his family whole, then it would be up to him to take the first step. None of the others would extend a hand to Melantha until Farrendel did it first.

  Averett pushed aside the tent flap, followed closely by Melantha.

  She looked better than when Farrendel had last seen her. Her black hair was glossy and clean. Her dark green dress, too short around her ankles, was clean and not torn.

  But the weary lines remained on her face, her eyes still pained and somewhat wild.

  As soon as she stepped inside, her gaze focused on Farrendel. She pushed past the others and rushed to his side. “Farrendel. Are you truly all right?”

  Surely the depth to her voice and her eyes was too sincere to be faked. They had been through too much together in the past two weeks for him to believe anything else.

  Perhaps he could not forget what she had done, nor could things go back to the way they had been.

  But he could forgive.

  He reached a hand to her and gripped Melantha’s shoulder. “Isciena.”

  Melantha stilled, her eyes filling. A single tear traced its way down her cheek. Tentatively, she reached out and gripped his shoulder. “Shashon.”

  Brother. The word settled deep inside him, dulling some of the pain.

  Standing next to the table, both Essie and Weylind remained stiff, their bodies positioned as if they intended to step forward and shield Farrendel from Melantha if necessary.

  But Prince Rharreth studied Melantha with dark blue eyes before he nodded. “My lady. I assume King Averett apprised you of the situation on the way here. If we can proceed?”

  A green glow surrounded Melantha’s hand where it still rested on Farrendel’s shoulder. Soothing healing magic flooded into him, sweeping away every last hint of pain.

  Farrendel relaxed against the table, breathing easier than he had in days. There in the dungeon, he had taken for granted the strength of Melantha’s healing magic. Magic ran deep and strong in their family. It would be a mistake to dismiss Weylind’s strength in plant growing magic or Melantha’s skill in healing just because their magic was not as flashy as Farrendel’s.

  This time, when the human surgeon sliced with his scalpel and Prince Rharreth drew the stone free, Farrendel could not feel it beyond a light pressure.

  “Melantha?” Farrendel turned his head toward her.

  Melantha glanced at him, though green magic continued to coat her fingers.

  The others turned to him as well, and Weylind especially glared, as if he thought Farrendel should not be talking to Melantha, even though she was still their sister.

  Farrendel gestured to himself as best as he could without moving his arm. “This is your battle, isciena. Here, you are a warrior.”

  This time, Melantha did freeze, her gaze locking on him. A twitch to her mouth might have been a smile. “Linshi, shashon.”

  Weylind’s gaze swung from Melantha to Farrendel, as if he was trying to puzzle out their conversation.

  Farrendel did not have the energy to explain. Melantha could tell Weylind, if she was so inclined.

  Essie’s fingers trailed through Farrendel’s short hair, and Farrendel closed his eyes, concentrating on that sensation rather than that of the surgery. With each bit of stone removed, he could breathe easier, as if the stone had been a weight pressing on his lungs.

  Finally, the surgeon worked his way to Farrendel’s wrists, and Farrendel opened his eyes for that, watching as Prince Rharreth and the human surgeon removed the broken sections of stone that had been lodged in Farrendel’s wrists for two weeks, ever since those human traitors clapped the stone manacles around his wrists.

  He was free. No more stone. No more pain. He had spent two weeks clinging to the hope of this day, and he took a moment to savor it now that it arrived.

  Melantha rested her hand on his wrist, and the last lingering ache disappeared. A warm flood of healing magic surged through him, filling him from the depth of his chest to his fingertips and toes.

  When Melantha withdrew her hand, she straightened, something of the controlled sister that he remembered returning to her bearing. “That is the last of the stone.”

  Farrendel pushed onto his elbows, then swung his feet off the table and tried to push himself upright. His head spun, unused to sitting upright after so long lying down. When he swayed, Essie wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him the rest of the way upright. Even when he steadied, she kept her arm around his shoulders.

  As much as he did not like being an invalid, he did not pull away from her.

  Weylind strode forward, arms crossed. “Then I will escort Melantha back to her shelter.”

  Melantha shot a glance to Farrendel, her eyes pleading.

  Farrendel was not ready to see her escorted away either. He had not talked with her since their rescue, and he could not see her married tomorrow without speaking with her. Nor could he leave Kostaria until he settled things between them. “Wait. I wish to speak with her.”

  Weylind turned, face set. “You do not have to, Farrendel.”

  “I still wish to speak with her.” Farrendel tried to make his voice strong.

  “Then I will stay.” Weylind crossed his arms, standing between Farrendel and Melantha.

  “No.” Farrendel did not need Weylind hovering.

  Essie squeezed Farrendel’s hand, her gaze searching his face. “Do you want me to stay? Or would you rather talk with her alone?”

  A part of him wanted Essie to remain there, ready to save the conversation if it stuttered. But if she remained, then Weylind would continue to hover. And Melantha might not speak freely before either of them.

  “Alone. But please do not go far.” He hated that those last words sounded pleading. He hated being weak.

  “All right.” Essie kissed his cheek. With a glance at Melantha, Essie herded all the nurses, healer, surgeon, Averett, Prince Rharreth, and Weylind from the curtained off room in the hospital tent.

  Farrendel gripped the edge of the surgical table, willing himself to remain strong and steady. “Thank you for coming to heal me.”

  “It was the least I could do. I owe you so much more.” Melantha stared at the ground, her arms wrapped over her stomach. Farrendel could not remember seeing Melantha so uncertain before. She always held her head high, confidently navigating royal life in Estyra. He had envied her for that ease and confidence. Her shoulders hunched. “I am so sorry. For everything. If I could go back, I would do so many things differently. I wish...”

  She trailed off, but Farrendel could
hear the unfinished wish. It was the same wish aching inside his chest.

  Farrendel shifted. The table lacked a back to lean against, his ribs still sore as Melantha’s magic worked to heal the deep wounds. “I might have ended up here even without your betrayal. Thanfardil would have arranged for my kidnapping either way.”

  “It would have been more difficult without my help.” Melantha’s arms tightened over her stomach. “I was so foolish to let him manipulate my anger and resentment like he did. I should never have done it. I never...I am so sorry.”

  “I know.” Thanks to the past two weeks, he did know that. “I am thankful you were here. I would not have survived without you, though I am sorry for what you had to endure.”

  Melantha nodded, giving him a brief glimpse of the drawn, haunted look on her face.

  It was a look he knew all too well. He felt that same shattered emptiness. And, while he would be going home, she would be stuck here for the rest of her life, unable to leave the darkness of this place behind.

  Yes, she would be queen. But that meant she would have far less freedom than Farrendel and Essie had to move between kingdoms and visit family.

  For her sacrifice, Farrendel would be forever grateful. Melantha’s marriage to the soon-to-be troll king could establish a lasting peace. Farrendel might never have to fight and kill again, thanks to Melantha.

  “If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask. You are not alone.” Farrendel could not imagine going into a marriage alliance without the overprotective support of his family. They had hovered—annoyingly, suffocatingly—when he had first married Essie. But they had cared.

  “Am I not?” She shook her head, pain in her voice. “This might as well be banishment.”

  Strangely, after everything, he did not want that for her. Now that he knew the depth of her pain and anger, all he wanted for her was to find the peace and happiness she had not managed to find in Estyra. “I hope you find the freedom in your marriage that I have in mine.”

  Melantha glanced at the curtain. “Is that what you found with your human princess? Freedom?”

  “Yes.” He did not hesitate. With her magic still lending strength to his muscles, Farrendel reached out and gripped her shoulders. “If you need help, I will come. Even if no one else will.”

  “Linshi, shashon.” Melantha reached out and gripped his shoulders. Her eyes studied him. “You have not yet told her how difficult the next months will be, have you?”

  Farrendel dropped his gaze to his bare toes. No, he had not. How could he explain what it had been like the last time? The blur of weariness and healers and Weylind badgering him into going through the motions of living. Eating without really tasting. Dressing without caring what he wore. Sleeping because he did not care enough to move to do anything else.

  Right now, the relief of rescue staved off the nightmares. But, they would return, and when they did...he was so tired of fighting his own mind. Weary of the constant battle.

  Essie had seen the cracks in him when they were in Escarland and some of the careful balance he maintained tipped out of his control.

  Control had been ripped out of his grasp again. If he spiraled like he had before...this time, Essie would bear the brunt of the burden, a burden he had no wish to place on her shoulders.

  When he returned to Tarenhiel, he would have to try. Harder than he had last time. Even if he did not feel strong enough. He had picked up the pieces of his life once. Surely he could do it again.

  Melantha must have seen his answer in his eyes, even if he did not say it. She squeezed his shoulders before stepping back. “Then I make the same promise. If you need anything, I will come.”

  Farrendel nodded, her words a soothing balm. Perhaps, their relationship could never go back to what it was. But, maybe, it could be better.

  MELANTHA STRODE from the healers’ tent with her head high, her back straighter than it had been in weeks.

  Farrendel had forgiven her. Somehow, incredibly, he had reached out to heal what she had destroyed. After the past two weeks, it was the brother she had tried to murder who understood her best.

  As soon as Melantha stepped outside, Princess Elspeth hurried forward, brushing past her as if intent on returning to Farrendel without saying a word to Melantha.

  Weeks ago, Melantha would have been content to coldly walk by, but Farrendel was not the only one she had hurt. “Princess Elspetha, please wait a moment.”

  Princess Elspeth turned, though her body still leaned in the direction of the tent as if her need to return to Farrendel was a physical pull. A canvas bag was slung over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  Melantha refused to feel the sting of the clipped tone. It was the least she deserved. With a deep breath, she met Princess Elspeth’s gaze. “I am sorry for the distress my actions caused you.”

  And for plotting to murder Princess Elspeth along with Farrendel, though Melantha did not mention that.

  Princess Elspeth’s eyes remained cool, her expression neutral. “Thank you for apologizing.”

  With that, she swept into the tent, not waiting for any response from Melantha.

  Not that Melantha had planned to say anything more. It was not as if she wished to ask the human princess for advice on navigating a marriage of alliance or anything. Melantha might be disgraced, but she still had some pride.

  With her head high, Melantha faced her family. Jalissa talked with the human king and princes. When Melantha’s gaze turned to her, Jalissa’s face hardened, and she turned her back.

  Melantha refused to feel the stab of pain. She was getting married tomorrow, and, most likely, she would not have her sister at her side. This was the last day their family would be together for a long time, and they were not even speaking to each other.

  A few feet away, Weylind stood with his arms crossed, two elf warriors at his back, waiting to take her back to her prison. He would call it a shelter, but the root shackle said otherwise.

  Yet Prince Rharreth also waited, off to the side. Was he waiting to speak with her?

  Melantha turned in his direction, walking swiftly so that Weylind would not have a chance to intercept her. She halted in front of the troll prince, facing him with all the dignity she could muster. “Did you wish to speak with me?”

  Prince Rharreth’s dark blue eyes searched her face. “You agreed to marry me.”

  It was said as a statement, but the underlying question hung in the air between them.

  “Of course I did. I know it is hard to believe, but I still love my kingdom.” Melantha forced herself not to back down from the intense scrutiny of his gaze. Perhaps only this could earn her redemption in the eyes of the rest of her family. “I hope your word and honor proves to be more true than your brother’s.”

  Prince Rharreth’s mouth tilted down, though he did not refute her insinuation that his brother had possessed no honor. “I have promised peace with Tarenhiel, and I keep my word.”

  “I will hold you to that. If you break your word, I am not above breaking my healer’s oath to kill you, even if it kills me in the process. I would consider it a worthy sacrifice for my kingdom.” Melantha clenched her fists. Farrendel had called her a warrior, back there in the hospital tent. If only that was what she was.

  “That will not be necessary.” Prince Rharreth reached, as if to touch her, but he drew his hand back before he so much as brushed a lock of her hair. “I know what my brother did to you. But I promise you that you have nothing to fear from me.”

  Melantha raised her eyebrows. Did Prince Rharreth mean that? Yet, he had taken a whipping for her, his back probably still sore since he would not have been able to heal himself as Melantha had. Even though he had not succeeded in sparing her all of his brother’s punishment, he had done his best.

  It gave Melantha reason to hope, even though she had thought herself beyond such self-delusions.

  But, for a moment, she let herself believe that her marriage to this troll tomorrow would not be utter misery. Perhaps
she would never find the happiness that Farrendel had with his human princess, but maybe Melantha could find the freedom she craved.

  If she found a way to cool the simmering, consuming anger gnawing through her chest, she might even be content.

  When Essie stepped through the canvas door, she found Farrendel still sitting on the surgical table, staring at his hands. He glanced up, his silver-blue eyes dull and listless. He held up his arms, showing her the insides of his wrists. “More scars.”

  Fresh, red scars marked where his wrists had been impaled. First by the manacles, then by whatever bindings the trolls had used when hauling him across Tarenhiel and Kostaria, and finally from the stone pinning him to the floor of that dungeon cell.

  Essie set down her canvas bag beside the table and gently grasped Farrendel’s hands, running her thumbs over the scars on his wrists. “You know the scars don’t bother me. Nor does the length of your hair. I love you, Farrendel.”

  He gave a tiny nod, though the spark didn’t return to his eyes.

  Being fully dressed would help. Essie knelt, dug in the sack, and pulled out the folded shirt and tunic she had hauled with her from Tarenhiel.

  She placed the shirt and tunic in his hands. “I thought you might want these.”

  He ran his fingers over the light green tunic, the same one she had borrowed and worn the day they married. At last, a hint of a smile cracked his mouth, a flicker of light returning to his eyes. “This always reminds me of you.”

  “And here I was wearing it all over Ellonahshinel because it reminded me of you.” Essie forced herself to grin, her tone light, as she dug in the sack and pulled out his stockings and boots.

  The comment earned her only a twitch of a smile from Farrendel, a smile that was replaced with a grimace as he eased his shirt over his head.

  Even with Melantha’s magic, it would take a few days for the healing to be complete and the soreness to fade. Nor would the magic replace the weight and strength he’d lost during the two weeks of immobility and little food.