by Tara Grayce
Behind her, the two bowls of stew remained with two small chunks of bread jammed on the rim. With Farrendel still not looking at her, she poured some of the stew from one bowl into the other. She would have given Farrendel all of her portion, but she would need to eat something, even a reduced portion, to maintain her strength and continue to heal Farrendel. As long as Prince Rharreth allowed it.
Setting both bowls in front of her, she dipped Farrendel’s bread into his stew. “I know you do not want to take anything from my hand, but you need to eat.”
Farrendel blew out a long breath, then faced her. “I am used to being fed by an enemy.”
It should not sting. Not after what she had done.
But she still had to blink and stare down at the bowl for longer than necessary before she held out the piece of bread to him.
It might have almost felt like a family meal, if not for the tension and the fact that she alternated between feeding herself and feeding Farrendel as if he were yet again the child she had helped raise.
That brought another stab of pain. When had she started to resent him, then hate him? When he had been little, she had been almost like a mother to him. She was old enough that she could have had a son Farrendel’s age, had Hatharal not delayed the marriage, then ended things.
It had hurt, in those early years, to hold Farrendel close and think about the children she had been denied. When had that pain turned to anger and that anger turned on Farrendel instead of the betrothed who had left her?
Why had she never been grateful that Farrendel’s birth had shown her the truth about Hatharal before she had actually married him? Hatharal had never truly loved her. Not if he had been so willing to break it off at the first sign of trouble.
Love was what their father had shown in enfolding Farrendel into the family no matter the scandal and scorn it had caused.
Would Farrendel’s Princess Elspeth love him in that way? Or would she falter at the first sign of trouble?
No, Melantha might not have bothered to get to know her new human sister, but Princess Elspeth had proven to be incredibly loyal and resilient.
Melantha picked up the last piece of her bread and gave it to Farrendel after sopping up the last of his larger portion of soup. As he chewed, she struggled to think of something to say. This tense silence gnawed at her.
What could she say? From his stony silence, he had no wish to converse with her.
Prince Rharreth pushed away from the wall, taking a step toward her. Her time was up. If she was going to say something, she needed to figure out what it was and how to say it now.
She rested her hand on his shoulder again, his skin still cold even after the warmth her magic had lent him. “I am sorry. This...this is not what I meant to happen.”
Farrendel’s gaze snapped to her, ice blue and filled with fire. “What did you intend to happen? A quick execution rather than torture? That hardly makes your betrayal any better.”
She flinched, rocking back on her heels. The venom in his tone stung. But what else had she expected?
A part of her had almost expected him not to be angry with her. Farrendel so very rarely became angry. Nor had she intended to be there when he did. The whole point had been for her to walk away and simply move on, as awful as that made her.
“No, I guess it does not.” Her throat thick, she picked up the bowls and hurried out the door, keeping her head down. She left her blanket, though Prince Rharreth was unlikely to let Farrendel keep it long.
At her cell, she handed back the bowls, then retreated to the back wall of her cell as Prince Rharreth locked her inside. She did not look at him. Certainly did not want to give him cause to talk to her. Talking would betray the tears choking her throat.
The troll prince had been right this whole time. Of the two of them, she was the monster.
Perhaps she had always had her broken betrothal backwards. Maybe her betrothed had not walked away because he could not stand the scandal of Farrendel’s illegitimate birth. But, instead, he had glimpsed her anger, her growing bitterness, and had seen that marriage to her would be miserable.
That meant the problem had never been him, but had always been her.
After all, a sister who would knowingly betray her innocent brother to torture and death had to be a despicable person indeed. Not someone that anyone would want to be stuck with in a marriage.
In the end, she had lost everyone. Even if rescue came for Farrendel, it would never come for her. There could be no rescue, no return to her family, no forgiveness. Not for her.
FARRENDEL WIGGLED his fingers, then his toes. For the first time in five days, his toes were verging on warm underneath the blanket Melantha had left and the troll prince had yet to return to take.
Also for the first time in five days, he was pain-free. As long as Melantha’s magic lingered, the pain would be banished. A brief reprieve.
Why had she done it? Was it out of guilt? Was she...?
No. Farrendel dashed away that line of thinking. He could not allow himself to believe she had a change of heart. If this turned out to be a trick, it would hurt that much worse if he let himself hope.
It had to be a trick. He did not dare trust Melantha again. After all, she had spent a century pretending she loved him as a sister. This could just as easily be another deception.
Perhaps the trolls thought it would be another cruelty to make him think his sister had a change of heart, only to lump a second betrayal onto the first. Maybe they thought he would reveal something of Weylind’s battle plans to Melantha, and she would pass them on to the trolls.
Still, a part of him hoped. After what she had done, why did he still want her kindness to be real? Why, even now, did a large part of him want to forgive her?
Weylind had once told him he loved far too easily. Back then, it had been a warning not to fall in love with Essie too quickly.
Yet Essie had not been the one any of them should have been worried about. It turned out the one Farrendel had loved too easily was his own sister.
Farrendel wiggled his toes against the warm wool of the blanket. A trick. Just a trick. But he would enjoy these comforts while they lasted. A warm blanket and no pain, even if he still was pinned and unable to move.
He eased the barrier on the heart bond. As soon as he did, a flood of emotion poured into him from Essie, and he did not need to hear the words to sense her tears and worry.
How much had she felt? His block had faltered for a few moments when the shock of the stone piercing him had shaken his senses. It must have been bad enough for her to tell he had nearly died.
I am fine. I am not dead. He was not sure how much she would be able to sense, but hopefully the impression of the words would carry through. He did not wish to worry her more than he already had.
Could she tell how much better he was now? Would she sense the lack of pain at the moment? It was not much, but he wanted to savor the feeling with her. He had not thought he would get even this much relief until he was rescued.
He had the impression she was reaching for him, mentally holding him as close as she could through the bond.
As he reached for her, he felt the warmth of the bond and...something else. He frowned and blinked up at the stone ceiling above him. Was that a crackle of his magic?
He tugged on the power, easing it into his right hand. When he craned his neck, he could just see a faint blue, shimmering glow beneath the blanket by his hand.
He halted the crackle. If Prince Rharreth returned soon to retrieve the blanket, Farrendel could not let him suspect this.
This had to be an unintended consequence of Melantha’s healing. Somehow, her magic must have been blocking the stone and the troll magic enough for him to access his power. It was still a small amount, crushed as it was beneath so much surrounding stone and nearby troll magic, and it would disappear the moment her magic faded from his system.
If Melantha’s healing was just a manipulative trick, then it had gone badly awr
y for her and the trolls. Thanks to her, Farrendel could access his magic.
What could he do with it? It was not strong enough nor would it last long enough to free him or take on Prince Rharreth.
If Melantha’s visit had been a trick to lure Farrendel into trusting her again for some nefarious purpose, then she would be back. She would heal him again, and when she did, he would gain access to his magic again. If he could figure out something to do with his power, then he would use her visits against her and the trolls. He would not be just the helpless victim awaiting rescue.
Perhaps, when rescue came, this time he could fight back. He could make sure his rescuers did not pay the price the way his father had.
Could he store his magic? It was not a concept he would have thought of a few months ago. But in Escarland, he had met Essie’s inventor friend Lance Marion, who worked with human magicians to store magic in devices to power machines. It had taken an afternoon of experimentation, but Lance had successfully figured out a way to store Farrendel’s magic in a device like he did with the magic from human magicians.
Farrendel glanced around the cell. Nothing but stone around him. Not even iron chains dangling from the wall.
Lance had needed some kind of high-grade metal for the device to store Farrendel’s magic. Even if there were iron chains rusting in the corner, they probably would not work.
The stone would not hold his magic. It would just fizzle out.
Farrendel blew out a breath. He had brief access to his magic, but he could not do anything with it. Within an hour or two, Melantha’s magic would dissipate from his body, and he would be back to pain and lack of magic.
Lack of all magic...except the heart bond.
The heart bond wasn’t exactly a thing. But could it store his magic somehow?
How would pushing his magic into the heart bond affect Essie? She had speculated once that the heart bond might make her immune to his magic, but they had never tested that idea. There was not a safe way to experiment.
If she was not immune, then what would adding more magic to the heart bond do to her? He would not risk her, not even for the chance to escape. He did not even have a way to ask her permission before he experimented with this, if he decided to attempt it.
A heart bond was a mysterious magic. Elven scholars had been debating exactly what it was for millennia.
But it had given rise to many of their marriage customs. The eshinelt, the green paint used during the blessings and vows of the wedding ceremony, had magic from the bride and groom mixed into it, which was believed to encourage a heart bond to form. That was the theory behind it, anyway.
Since Essie did not have magic, the eshinelt Farrendel made for their wedding contained only his magic.
If that magic was the spark that the heart bond used to form, then the magic of the heart bond was his originally. If his magic was already integral to the heart bond and tied to Essie, then surely the addition of more of his magic would not hurt her.
He would be careful. He would ease only a little bit of his magic into the heart bond this time. If his hunch was right, Melantha would be back. He would have more chances to store more magic...if this worked.
Essie, I wish I could ask you first before trying this.
She must have sensed a question through the heart bond. He felt an impression of a question in return.
Farrendel flexed his fingers. This would have been so much easier if elishinas resulted in true telepathy. He tried to send thoughts about what he was going to try, but it was not an idea that could translate to vague impressions.
Gripping the crackle of his magic, he drew it deep into his chest. It crackled next to the warmth of the heart bond, but nothing else happened.
Farrendel huffed a breath. He had to make this work. Already, the faintest hint of pain throbbed at his wrists. Using his magic was making Melantha’s magic disappear from his body faster.
Somewhere, he could feel Essie still questioning. Would she figure out what he was trying to do?
He had to get this right. This tiny crackle of his magic was fragile.
Yet, if he could store this magic, he could prevent history from repeating itself. No one would die on his account.
He gripped the crackle of his magic tighter with one mental fist, the heart bond with the other, and drew the magic together.
Something burst inside his chest. He gasped, magic sparking across his vision. He blinked and took a moment to catch his breath.
When his senses finally sharpened, he felt for his magic.
The crackle had lessened, but was still there, melded into the warmth of the heart bond.
He had done it. What he had done, exactly, only time would tell. Would he still be able to access this magic once Melantha’s magic wore off?
Essie. Was she all right? He felt for her through the heart bond. Even through the additional crackle of his magic, she was still there. The wave of impression he sensed from her was filled with confusion, but not pain.
His experiment had not hurt her. He breathed a sigh of relief. This had worked, and it had not hurt Essie.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the tingle of his magic. He was not going to be helpless this time. By the time he was rescued, he would be able to fight back.
No matter her reasons for pretending to help him, Farrendel was looking forward to Melantha’s next visit.
ESSIE GLANCED around the command tent, crowded with both elven and human generals going over their plan of attack one last time. Weylind and Averett stood at the center, though now that the debates had all been laid to rest during earlier discussions, they were mostly there to give their royal approval to the plan.
The tent flap was thrown open, and Edmund’s tousled brown hair popped through first before he straightened and grinned. “What did we miss?”
Jalissa followed him and gave him a quelling look, as if she thought that opening line inappropriate for the seriousness of battle planning.
Leyleira strode in behind Jalissa, glanced around, and raised her eyebrows. “It would seem we are precisely on time.”
Julien was the last to enter. He glanced around the tent before he worked his way through the crowd to where Essie stood. He wrapped her in a one-armed hug. “How are you holding up?”
“All right.” Essie wasn’t sure how to describe how she was feeling. Mostly, she was impatient to start the battle and rescue Farrendel. And yet, the invasion of Kostaria would mean war. It would mean bloodshed and death and many lives lost. How many would die to make Farrendel’s rescue possible? How many wives and mothers and sisters would mourn so that Essie didn’t have to?
It wasn’t fair, in the end. Essie shouldn’t ask that sacrifice.
Except that she wasn’t the one doing the asking. Averett and Weylind were.
This invasion was about more than rescuing Farrendel. It was about eliminating a threat to both Tarenhiel and Escarland. If they did nothing, Kostaria would continue to attack Tarenhiel, and probably Escarland as well due to the alliance.
Julien squeezed her shoulders and didn’t let go, perhaps sensing she needed his continued comfort. “How is Farrendel holding up?”
“As well as can be expected.” How much should she tell Julien? They had all been so busy she hadn’t managed more than snatches of conversations with anyone. “Ever since yesterday, he’s been optimistic. More than he had been earlier. He’s still captured, but something changed. I don’t know what.”
That was the frustrating thing about the heart bond. The details were always rather vague, no matter how hard she concentrated.
But something had changed. She was sure of it. Only a few hours after Farrendel had nearly died, his pain had suddenly vanished for a while, and she’d started to get a determined, optimistic impression, and the heart bond had taken on a crackling edge.
Whatever had happened, she was grateful. The anger and distance she had sensed from him before hadn’t exactly vanished, but they were not as overwhelming as b
efore. They were more controlled, raw-edged and dangerous.
A few days ago, he had simply been surviving. Enduring.
Now, he was still surviving. Still enduring. But also possibly plotting to kill everyone in sight. He was definitely planning something.
Whatever he was planning, she tried to send him as much of their own plans as she could through the impressions of the heart bond. Maybe he could time his plan to theirs.
“That’s good, isn’t it? Especially after...” Julien gestured toward her, his eyes going worried once again.
She had worried all of them when she had collapsed and passed out, before Farrendel had blocked the heart bond once again. By the time he had released the iron wall across the heart bond, he had gone from nearly dying to as pain-free as she had sensed from him since his capture.
It was almost as if he had been healed by elven magic. But that didn’t make sense.
Surely Melantha wasn’t doing that, was she? But she was the only elf healer that Essie knew about who could be with the trolls.
Was this some plot on the part of the trolls? Were they having Melantha patch Farrendel up after the torture sessions so that they could just torture him worse?
The sense that she got from Farrendel was far too relaxed for Melantha’s healing to be a part of the torture. As if he believed she was truly helping him. Or, at least, hoped she might be.
And that worried Essie. If this was some kind of trick and Melantha intended to use it to hurt Farrendel yet again...
Essie wasn’t sure if Farrendel could survive a second betrayal.
What did that have to do with the crackle to the heart bond? Farrendel was probably causing it. But how? What was he doing?
Farrendel could sometimes be frustratingly reticent, but at least when they were together, he would communicate. This lack of true communication gnawed at her. When she got Farrendel back, she wasn’t going to take his short answers for granted again.
