Death Wind

by Tara Grayce

Essie swatted Weylind’s arm and raised her eyebrows at him. “Excuse me?”

  Weylind huffed, some of his anger disappearing when he glanced at her. “That marriage alliance worked out far better than expected, and I am thankful my brother is happy.” His jaw tightened and he gestured at Prince Rharreth. “But this...this is unacceptable.”

  Prince Rharreth’s face remained impassive. “I would suggest a marriage alliance between Escarland and Kostaria instead, but they have no more princesses and I have no sisters. Besides, Escarland will be content with trade, and it is the enmity between Tarenhiel and Kostaria that will cause continued tensions without a marriage alliance to keep the peace.”

  “That is a good point.” Averett dragged the words out.

  “No.” Weylind shook his head so hard his hair slapped Essie’s face. “Absolutely not.”

  “Your sister Melantha is a traitor to Tarenhiel.” Prince Rharreth’s tone remained flat. “I am assuming you will not order her execution. That means your only option is to banish her. Unless you intend to pardon her, but that would be a gross injustice caused by preferential treatment for your sibling.”

  Was that noise Weylind’s teeth grinding? Or maybe his knuckles cracking? Essie kept her smile plastered in place. Prince Rharreth had been doing a good job of keeping it professional up to this point, but he apparently couldn’t resist that dig.

  Averett leaned over and whispered in Essie’s ear, “It’s rather satisfying to watch Weylind squirm when it’s his sister.”

  Essie nudged Averett with her elbow. He needed to remember to be regal.

  “Even if you banish her, where would she go? Escarland won’t take her, and she will be in danger wandering by herself through other kingdoms.” Prince Rharreth waved to Averett, though he went on before Averett could say anything. “But, in a marriage alliance with me, I would ensure her safety here in Kostaria. She could restore her honor by sacrificing for her kingdom. You could decree marriage to me to be her punishment. It would allow her to return and visit Tarenhiel, something she could not do if she were banished. Besides, I am no longer a second son. I am offering to put your sister—an elf—on the throne of Kostaria.”

  Weylind opened his mouth. Closed it. Glared, though Essie wasn’t sure if his anger was because he didn’t want to marry Melantha to a troll or because that troll happened to be right.

  Essie rested a hand on Weylind’s arm. “Ask Melantha. See what she says. She might surprise you.”

  Weylind pointed at Prince Rharreth. “I am not marrying my sister to a troll who tortured Farrendel.”

  A valid point. Essie had been trying not to think about how Prince Rharreth had been the one to capture Farrendel in the first place. But, she forced herself to remain calm and think rationally. “I...don’t think Prince Rharreth tortured Farrendel. He’s still alive, after all.”

  Weylind’s brow scrunched and, for the first time, he studied Prince Rharreth as if really seeing him.

  Prince Rharreth rested a hand on his injured shoulder. “I didn’t torture him, but I did stand by and let it happen, which is hardly better. But it seems your brother has far more honor than I have given him credit for these past fifteen years. He gave me only what I gave him.”

  For the first time, Essie noticed the burned ends of Prince Rharreth’s sleeves and the reddened skin around his wrists. Burned skin that matched the marks around Farrendel’s wrists.

  But Farrendel hadn’t killed Prince Rharreth. Considering how far gone Farrendel had been, Essie was surprised to find some part of him had still been thinking. Perhaps not rationally. But thinking, at least.

  Weylind closed his eyes, his spine sagging. “I will consider the marriage alliance. That is the only promise I am willing to make now. I will, however, speak with Melantha to ensure she is willing.” He opened his eyes, his gaze sharpening. “And I will speak with Farrendel and gain his perspective on you and the marriage alliance.”

  Prince Rharreth nodded, probably realizing that was the best concession he was likely to get. “Very well. As long as the possibility of a marriage alliance is written into the treaty, I am willing to leave the final choice in Princess Melantha’s hands.”

  Essie wasn’t sure how she felt about the marriage alliance. A part of her thought that if Melantha had been willing to betray her kingdom and her own brother for the trolls, then the trolls were welcome to her, and good riddance. It would serve her right to be used as a bargaining chip in a marriage alliance.

  And yet, Essie knew just how hard a marriage alliance could be, and hers had been an exceptionally fortunate one. Not every marriage alliance turned out as well as hers and Farrendel’s.

  Most of that was due to the fact that both she and Farrendel were the kind of people willing to put in the effort and sacrifice needed to make a marriage like theirs work.

  But was Melantha that kind of person? Essie seriously doubted it. Granted, she didn’t know Melantha that well. Melantha had done her best to avoid Essie, and Essie’s strongest memory of her was of Melantha’s sneering expression as she disavowed Farrendel.

  If Melantha hadn’t managed to figure out how to love her own brother in the past hundred years, how was she possibly going to find even a shred of happiness in an arranged marriage?

  Did Essie even care if Melantha found happiness? She should hope that Melantha had changed through this experience, as Farrendel had seemed to believe. After seeing the state Melantha had been in, Essie should be forgiving enough to think that Melantha had suffered enough already.

  Essie had some sympathy for Melantha. There was far more hatred between the trolls and elves than had ever existed between the elves and humans. A marriage alliance would not be easy.

  But Essie struggled to fully pity her. Not after what she had done to Farrendel. Melantha had deeply hurt someone Essie loved. That was hard to forgive.

  Not to mention, it would make this troll prince her brother-in-law. Talk about awkward family reunions.

  From there, the meeting worked its way into the nitty-gritty of the treaty. Weylind worked in a clause that had Averett agreeing to station Escarlish troops along the border for the next year while Averett, in return, gained additional trade and the agreement that a few elven warriors would be sent to train with the Escarlish army to better integrate the use of magic and weaponry.

  Finally, Master Wendee, Sindrel, and their assistants put the treaty together into an official format and made copies. All of the monarchs read the treaty over, making sure all the wording was satisfactory.

  Essie tried not to squirm. All she wanted to do was return to Farrendel, but this moment was important. If he couldn’t witness the ending of the war he’d fought for so long, then she would do it for him.

  At last, Master Wendee and Sindrel laid out three copies of the treaty on the table.

  Averett pulled out a pen, the carved wooden one that Essie had gifted him. “Unless any of you have magnificent speeches about peace between our kingdoms that you intended to give at this moment, let’s sign this treaty.”

  Essie stifled a snort. Avie didn’t want to keep any of them any longer than he had to after they had spent hours discussing this treaty, and he was basically daring any of the other kings to drag this out.

  When neither Prince Rharreth nor Weylind said anything, Averett smiled. “Very well. Here’s to a new era of peace and prosperity between our kingdoms.” With a flourish, Averett signed each of the three copies, then handed the pen to Weylind.

  Weylind straightened his shoulders and faced Prince Rharreth. “I have hope that this war is finished.” He signed all three treaties and held out the pen to Prince Rharreth.

  Prince Rharreth took the pen. He studied it a moment, as if unsure it would be fitting to sign a treaty with an elven-made pen. But, he swiveled the three copies and signed them.

  Essie resisted the urge to sag in her seat. The treaty was signed. The war was officially over. Farrendel could finally know peace.

  Would this peace las
t? Or was this just a temporary lull before the fighting broke out again?

  And, would Melantha agree to the marriage alliance proposed in this treaty? Would Prince Rharreth hold to the terms of peace if she didn’t?

  FARRENDEL WOKE to a deep, dull pain. At least it was no longer sharp. And the bedding beneath him was softer than stone, though it still pressed onto the bruises on his shoulder blades and back.

  He tried to shift, but that sent a deeper wave of pain through his chest.

  “Rest easy.” Weylind’s voice came from beside him.

  Farrendel drew on what little strength he had to peel his eyes open, resulting in a blur of orange lamplight and shadows. He had to blink several times to bring the tent into focus.

  Weylind sat in the chair next to him with a human lantern on the table, filling the tent with a golden glow. He set aside a sheaf of papers. “How are you feeling?”

  “I am fine.” Farrendel drew in a deep breath, and it stabbed through his chest. He was not fine. He could still sense troll magic and stone inside him, fighting against the elf magic attempting to heal him. The numbness of the human medicine had worn off, leaving him torn and seared. “Where is Essie?”

  Weylind pointed and leaned to the side, giving Farrendel a view of the space by the stove. Essie lay on a bedroll on the floor, sleeping deeply enough that she was making light snoring sounds that she insisted were just heavy breathing.

  “She never faltered. She was a tap root for us. I do not know what we would have done without her.” Weylind’s voice was low, even as he swung his gaze from Essie back to Farrendel. Something like a smile twitched the corner of Weylind’s mouth. “You may say that you told me so. Your Elspetha already did.”

  “Of course she did.” The red of her hair blurred as Farrendel tried to keep his eyes focused, but it was hard with the headache building at his temples. He shifted again, and another stab of pain shot through his chest. His hands shook at his sides. “What time is it?”

  “It is the middle of the night.” Weylind’s gaze studied him. “I believe I should fetch the healer. You look like you are in pain.”

  “I am fine.” Farrendel had to speak between gritted teeth. The pain surged deeper.

  “You are certainly not fine.” Weylind pushed to his feet. “I will return momentarily.” He strode from the tent.

  For a moment, Farrendel lay still, concentrated on breathing, and listened to the sound of Essie’s snoring competing with the crackle of the fire in the stove. He was not sure how he had managed to miss such an annoying sound, but it now reminded him of home. Of waking up to her still snoring loudly in her mound of blankets in their room in Ellonahshinel. Or of the blue room in Buckmore Cottage with her giving him a sleepy look as he swung back through the window.

  Home. In his own bed. Pain free. And clean. How he wanted to be clean.

  After a few more minutes, Weylind returned, followed by the same elf healer and human surgeon who had tended Farrendel before. Not that Farrendel remembered much of that except pain, then numbness, and Essie.

  Dark circles splotched underneath the surgeon’s eyes, and lines furrowed the elf healer’s forehead. Had they slept at all since tending Farrendel? Or had they been healing the wounded all this time?

  The healer stepped forward and rested a hand on Farrendel’s shoulder.

  Farrendel sucked in a breath as the warm healing magic clashed against the cold inside him, resulting in a burning pain.

  The healer grimaced and drew his hand away. “Too much troll magic inside him yet.”

  “Understood.” The surgeon rested a leather bag on the table, pulled out a needle and a vial.

  Farrendel swung his gaze to the ceiling. He remembered enough of receiving a shot of that morphine before. The numbness had been welcome, but knowing someone was inserting something beneath his skin yet again was not.

  The surgeon tapped his now filled needle with a finger. “Nylian, his arm?”

  The healer peeled back the blankets from Farrendel’s arm, turned it so that the inside of his elbow faced up, and swabbed it with a dab of some cold liquid.

  Farrendel braced himself. Weylind’s hand rested on his shoulder, pinning him down. Something pricked the inside of his elbow, then a cold sensation pushed into him.

  Weylind sank onto the chair once again, his hand leaving Farrendel’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming, Nylian, Maxwell, and delaying your rest.”

  The surgeon nodded. “We were needed.”

  The elf healer gave a nod as well, and both of them left the tent.

  The numbness spread up Farrendel’s arm to his shoulder, easing the pain as it went. He sank deeper into the blankets. “Thank you, shashon. This is better.”

  “I know you need sleep, but there is something I wished to discuss.” Weylind rested his elbows on his knees, staring at his hands.

  By that posture, it must be serious. Farrendel blinked and forced himself to focus on Weylind. “I will stay awake.”

  “It is Melantha.” Weylind rubbed at a palm with his thumb. “Prince Rharreth has asked for a marriage alliance as part of the treaty, and he requested to marry Melantha.”

  Another marriage alliance. His people had gone from never agreeing to such things to being bombarded with them from every side.

  Not that Farrendel would ever regret marrying Essie. Marrying her was the best thing to happen to him, even if he had not known it at the time.

  But Melantha...and Prince Rharreth? Farrendel could not picture it.

  “Before I agree, I need to know what part Prince Rharreth played in your torture. He claims he did not actively torture you the way his brother did. I am not sure I believe him.” Weylind’s shoulders hunched, his head hanging as if from the weight of this decision.

  “He...” Farrendel was not sure what he thought of Prince Rharreth. Yes, he let Melantha make Farrendel more comfortable. But he had still allowed the torture to continue. “He is utterly loyal to Kostaria. But he is more honorable than his brother.”

  “That is not high praise.” Weylind grimaced and shook his head. “A rock would be more honorable than King Charvod was.”

  “I do not think he will hurt Melantha.” Farrendel did not wish to remember anything of those days of agony, especially the last three days where the torture had been unrelenting without food, water, or a shred of mercy.

  But Prince Rharreth had tried to convince his brother to punish him instead of Melantha. Hopefully, that meant he had enough honor that he would not harm her. At least, not physically.

  Still, Farrendel was not sure it would be a marriage he would wish for his sister, even Melantha.

  “That is a comfort.” Weylind’s words came out on a heavy sigh. His head hung, as if the weight on his shoulders remained heavy. “I also need to know what you wish for justice. You were the one she hurt the most when she betrayed Tarenhiel. If you do not believe marriage to the soon-to-be troll king is sufficient punishment, I will consider other options.”

  Did Weylind think Farrendel wanted Melantha harmed? After everything, she was still his sister.

  How did he feel about Melantha? She had betrayed him. But then, she had helped him. Now, there was just a tangled ache where once they had been siblings.

  After this moment, would Farrendel’s family be whole ever again? Or would they always be scattered across the kingdoms, split by pain?

  No, Farrendel had no wish for this pain to linger. Whatever he had to do, he would do it, if it meant that the ache that began over a hundred years ago when the elf queen was killed did not continue to tear his family apart.

  It was becoming harder to keep his eyes open. “No, I do not wish her punished. All I want for her is mercy.”

  Weylind’s hand rested on Farrendel’s shoulder for a moment. “I should have expected nothing less from you. You love too easily, but it is your strength.”

  Farrendel was not sure what Weylind meant by that. How was loving too easily a strength instead of a weakness as he had
believed? But he was too tired to puzzle it out.

  Weylind picked up the stack of papers he had been studying. “I have the treaty here, if you should wish to read it.”

  Farrendel lifted his hand, noticed how much his fingers were trembling, and dropped his arm back to the blankets. With the way his eyes were swimming in and out of focus, he would not be able to read it anyway. “I will read it later.”

  Weylind set it aside, and Farrendel let his eyes finally fall closed. A part of him could not take it in. This war had started before he had been born. And he had been fighting it from the moment he was old enough. Before he was old enough, to be honest. After over a hundred years, would it end with a few pieces of paper and three signatures?

  Could this really be the end? It seemed far too good to be true.

  Farrendel was hollowed out, empty. The thought of having to fight yet another war threatened to break another piece inside him. Yet, he did not dare reach for Essie’s optimism either.

  A cold breeze brushed his face. Footsteps scuffed across the tent. “How is he?”

  Averett’s voice. Farrendel managed to turn his head, but he could not force his eyes to open. The numbing sensation of the human medicine was lulling him back into sleep.

  Weylind’s hand on Farrendel’s shoulder was replaced with Averett’s heavier one. Averett squeezed his shoulder, then the chair creaked as Averett claimed the seat.

  Farrendel normally would not like being so crowded while he slept. But, right then, knowing that his brothers—all of his brothers—were watching over him, made him feel safe. After two weeks in that dungeon, it was a feeling he had not been sure he would have again.

  MELANTHA WOKE inside an empty shelter grown of branches and roots, its inside lit only by a single magical light near the ceiling. Her feet no longer ached. Her healing must have finished while she had been asleep.

  How long had she been unconscious? Last thing she remembered doing was pouring all of her magic that she could grasp into Farrendel. She had exhausted herself. Between that and her body’s weakness, she had passed out.