by Tara Grayce
His eyes widened yet again before he flicked a glance toward the warehouse. He sprang to the controls, yanking one lever back, then shoving another one forward as far as it would go.
A whining crackle filled the air, and the engine gave a shudder. Metal screeched against metal as the wheels struggled to turn against the iron rails. Slowly, inch by inch, the train crawled forward and gathered speed.
Essie didn’t dare take her eyes off the engineer, not even to check on the burning warehouse. How long would it take for the ammunition in the crates to catch?
Agonizingly slowly, the engine gathered speed. Essie braced herself against the wall, counting each chug of the wheels, each beat of her heart.
The minutes ticked by. The train engine sped along the tracks now, the wind whipping past the open windows.
A roar sounded behind them. A gust of wind battered the sides of the engine house, blasting in through the windows. Moments later, the floor heaved beneath them, the car tilting.
Essie braced herself against the wall, a scream choking inside her throat. Were they going to derail? How badly would they be hurt if the engine went tumbling?
The wheels crashed back onto the tracks with a horrendous squeal. The whole train engine shuddered, then snapped into place, clacking forward smoothly once again.
After easing back on the lever Essie guessed controlled speed, the engineer turned to her. She expected him to say something. Perhaps ask a question.
But he grabbed an iron poker from its hook on the wall, a leftover from when this train was steam-powered before its conversion to magical power. Lunging, he swung it at her.
She ducked and stumbled backwards, her back striking the wall of the engine house.
Nowhere left to run. They were going too fast for her to jump out, even if she wanted to hike on foot to the nearest town or outpost.
He rushed at her again, iron poker raised for a blow.
Essie braced herself and flexed her fingers on her derringer. He was bigger than her. Stronger. Even wounded, he could probably subdue her. She only had one shot. It had to count.
Raising her gun, she leveled it at his chest, held it steady, and pulled the trigger.
ESSIE PACED the quarters she’d been given in Fort Defense, the nearest military outpost to the destroyed warehouse. The commander said he sent soldiers, though he wouldn’t let her go along. As if, after shooting the engineer and hiking her way here all by herself, she was a wilting flower who would faint at seeing the aftermath of a battle.
She’d seen one before, after all.
If Farrendel was there...if he was hurt...she could save him. She needed to be there, to grip his hand and use the force of their heart bond.
Rest, the commander had told her. Rest.
As if she could, knowing Farrendel was out there somewhere. Hurt. Captured. Dead.
It had been hours since she escaped. How long did it take the squad of soldiers to go to the exploded warehouse and back?
Boots sounded on the floor outside a moment before the door thunked with a knock. “Essie? You awake?”
Essie just about yanked the door off its hinges as she flung it open. “Avie.” She threw herself forward and hugged him, burying her face against his shoulder as she used to do as a little girl. He was only seven years older than her, but since their father died, Averett had been her shoulder to cry on, her protector, her big brother. “I don’t know where he is and he might be dead or the trolls might have captured him and they might be torturing him or he got blown up when I blew up that warehouse. What if I killed him?”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Averett rubbed her back. “He’s not dead. At least, they didn’t find his body at the site. You didn’t blow him up.”
“Then they got him.” Essie’s voice fully broke this time. Farrendel’s worst nightmare. Was he being tortured even now?
Averett hugged her tighter. “We’ll get him back, Essie. We’ll get him back.”
Two more hands rested on her shoulders. Julien and Edmund, letting her know they were there for her.
Essie tried to choke back her sobs, muffling them against Averett’s shirt. She shouldn’t spend her time crying. Not when there was so much she should be doing instead.
Yet here she was crying anyway. Because her heart hurt in a way she’d never felt before. As if her ribs were about to cave into the emptiness in her chest. Logic didn’t stop the tears. She couldn’t simply will the ache away.
Finally, she managed to swallow back the lump in her throat, walling it inside her chest. It still hurt, as if her tears were pressing against her throat, eager to pour out again.
Essie swiped at her face, her skintight with all the dried tears. “Sorry.”
“I’ve gotten used to it over the years.” Averett handed her a handkerchief. His mouth had a ghost of a smile, even if his eyes were still shadowed. “At least you didn’t wipe your nose on my shirt again.”
“I haven’t done that since I was six or seven.” Essie took the handkerchief, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose.
Averett sighed and gestured to the couch. “Why don’t we sit down?”
The report couldn’t be good, not if it was a delivered-sitting-down kind of report.
Essie took a seat in the center of the couch, and Edmund and Julien dropped into the seats on either side of her.
Averett claimed the armchair, pulling it forward to better face the couch. “You don’t have to do this.”
Essie drew in a deep breath. Composure. She needed to be composed. Calm. Farrendel needed her to hold it together. “I need to know what they found there. Please. I need to know.”
“Lots of bodies.” Julien’s voice rumbled to her right. “Farrendel put up quite the fight. I hear you didn’t do half bad yourself.”
It wasn’t something to celebrate. She’d been desperate. Angry. Scared. “Who was killed?”
“Lord Bletchly, Mark Hadley, and two other Escarlish men. It looked like some of the trolls may have been killed, but they took those bodies with them.” Averett rubbed his palm with his thumb. “We didn’t find any elf bodies.”
That meant both of the elven traitors had most likely survived. Essie clenched her fingers together. Would it have been better or worse if Melantha had been killed in the fighting? As bewildered as Farrendel had been, Essie was sure he wouldn’t have killed her, but one of the trolls or the explosions might have.
“Based on your description, Jalissa thinks the second elf traitor is Thanfardil. He is apparently in charge of the train schedules in Tarenhiel.” Edmund’s gaze focused on the floor.
In all the pain of the past day, Essie had forgotten about Jalissa. Essie wasn’t the only one suffering right now. Jalissa’s brother was missing—probably captured—and her sister had been revealed as traitor to her kingdom.
“I thought he looked familiar. I must have seen him around the train station in Estyra.” Not someone she had paid any attention to, but, apparently, that was what made him such a good traitor. He could schedule the trains to hide the fact that he was ferrying weapons to the trolls. “Was this news passed to King Weylind?”
“Yes, but we haven’t heard an answer if he was able to stop the trolls from crossing Tarenhiel.” Averett met her gaze. “All we know is he wants to meet on Linder Island tonight.”
If King Weylind got the message, then there was hope. Maybe he had already rescued Farrendel.
Except that Melantha was working with the trolls. Even if this Thanfardil failed to secure safe passage across Tarenhiel, she probably still could.
Would she do it, after what she had witnessed? Would she realize in time that the trolls had no intention of peace now that they had Farrendel?
Even if she did, Thanfardil might have co-conspirators who would help him get Farrendel and his captors across Tarenhiel to Kostaria. Hopefully the elves would look into all of Thanfardil’s contacts and underlings to see if any of the rest of them were also involved.
&nbs
p; Seriously, a traitor infestation. Cockroaches would have been easier to eliminate.
“At least King Weylind knows who the traitors are. You succeeded in giving him that information.” Next to her, Julien patted her shoulder, as if she was one of his soldiers who had done a good job. “When we conducted our raid, we discovered evidence that suggests Charles Hadley was unaware of his son’s treachery. We found the doctored books in the son’s office. We’ve already rounded up the other accomplices, both at the factory and in the army’s receiving warehouse.”
That was something, at least.
Yet, capturing the traitors didn’t have the joy of victory she’d thought it would. Maybe because the price had been so high.
“Is Jalissa here?” Essie’s voice came out flat, ringing hollow inside her chest. She couldn’t feel. Couldn’t think. Just exist. Breathe in. Breathe out. One moment at a time.
“Yes. She’s waiting on the train.” Averett gestured toward the door. “We need to board the train now to make it to the meeting with King Weylind on Linder Island this evening.”
A part of her just wanted to keep sitting there. Moving, even to stand, was too much effort.
But she couldn’t stay here. She was still a princess, and she still had a duty. King Weylind would be furious, and Farrendel would want Essie to do her best to talk him down.
With a deep breath and the last shreds of her strength, Essie pushed to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Her brothers clustered around her as she strode down the stairs and out the door of the commander’s quarters. Gathering her composure, she managed to put on a princess smile and thank the commander of the outpost for his hospitality, as if she wasn’t shattered and hollow inside.
Essie kept the brittle smile on her face all the way until she climbed the stairs into the privacy of the royal train waiting on the outpost’s siding.
Yet she couldn’t break, even here. All three of her brothers were there and watching. Down the hallway, Jalissa sat in the parlor of the royal car. And, down the train tracks at Linder Island, Essie would have to face King Weylind and try to stop him from starting a war with her brother over losing his brother.
It was so tempting to turn into one of the compartments and hide away. What she wanted to do was curl on a bunk and sob. Preferably while clutching a piece of clothing belonging to Farrendel. That would be the tragic, romantic thing to do, right?
Past the compartments, Jalissa perched on the padded bench seat, perfectly still, staring at the dark green carpet on the floor as if it held the answers to all of life’s problems.
Essie couldn’t just hide and ignore Jalissa’s grief. Jalissa was stuck in a kingdom not her own, surrounded by a family that wasn’t hers while she dealt with her sister’s betrayal and her brother’s capture. Essie was the closest thing to family Jalissa had right then.
Since marrying Farrendel, Essie had focused on how Melantha and Jalissa kept her at a distance. How they didn’t embrace her as their sister.
Yet, how often had she thought of them as her sisters-in-law? She’d always thought of them as Farrendel’s sisters, not hers.
It had been different with Paige. Since Paige was already Essie’s best friend, that friendship had only deepened with sisterhood. It hadn’t taken an effort to build that relationship.
Essie hadn’t put in the effort for Melantha and Jalissa. Perhaps she could be excused since it had been necessary to focus on building her relationship with Farrendel first.
But it was time Essie stepped up and was the sister Jalissa needed.
Essie eased onto the seat next to Jalissa. She didn’t speak. Even she couldn’t find the words for this moment.
Perhaps, silence was best right now. An understanding silence of just being there, ready to listen if Jalissa needed to talk.
Jalissa clenched and unclenched her fingers into her skirt. The layers of wrinkles already there spoke to how long she’d been sitting there doing that, over and over again. “I cannot believe Melantha would do this to us. Why would she betray her own family and kingdom?”
“She thought she was doing it for the good of Tarenhiel. I think she believed—or wanted to believe—the trolls when they said all they wanted was Farrendel.” Essie’s words rang hollow as the train shuddered into motion, sending vibrations through her feet and the couch she sat on.
She wasn’t defending Melantha or making excuses for her. No, this was for Jalissa to try to help her come to grips with a sister’s utter betrayal.
“Even so, how could she do this to Farrendel?” Jalissa’s fingers squeezed her burgundy skirt into a ball, and this time, she didn’t unclench her fists. “He is our brother.”
“She said she doesn’t see him that way.” Essie had never felt particularly close to Melantha, so the betrayal didn’t hurt her the way it did Farrendel and Jalissa. But she’d tried to imagine Averett, Julien, or Edmund doing something like this.
She honestly couldn’t. It was too unthinkable.
Not simply because they were her brothers, but because her whole family’s culture wouldn’t allow for something like this. The tragedy of losing their father had knit them closer together, far closer than most royal families.
Perhaps it was because she was an outsider, but Essie had been able to see how Farrendel’s family had been shattered at its core. King Weylind had done his best to pick up the pieces. Jalissa looked out for Farrendel, and Melantha had pretended to care.
But due in part to the large age gaps between the siblings and the elven culture that so disdained Farrendel for simply being born, it had been a difficult, nearly impossible task.
Jalissa turned shattered, dark brown eyes to Essie. “Does she not remember the little one we helped raise? How we fell in love the first time we held him as a tiny infant?”
“I bet Farrendel was an adorable child.” Essie clasped her hands to stop herself from reaching for Jalissa. Her elf sister-in-law wouldn’t appreciate the contact the way Paige would have.
“He was.” Jalissa’s voice grew rough and scratchy. “He was not always like he is now. He was always quiet, but he would smile and laugh and sometimes even chatter with us. When he would look up at me with those blue eyes of his, it was nearly impossible to tell him no.”
“I can imagine.” He hadn’t lost that kicked puppy dog look as an adult. Though, it was hard to think about Farrendel laughing and doing enough talking to count as chattering. “It’s amazing he didn’t end up spoiled rotten.”
Jalissa’s brow wrinkled for a moment, then smoothed. “Life would not let him. That scar on his face?” She touched her own cheek. “He did not receive it from the trolls. That happened in Estyra when he was fifteen. That was when he stopped smiling and laughing and talking.”
Fifteen. It would have been young for a human to experience something traumatic enough to leave a scar. But for an elf, that was the equivalent of seven or eight years old.
It must have been traumatic for him. Bad enough that he had yet to tell Essie about it, even though they’d talked about his torture at the hands of the trolls. But an injury done at the hands of his own people?
No wonder he felt he had to earn love. Honestly, it was amazing he’d ever become Laesornysh, willing to lay his life on the line for his people, rather than become a traitor himself.
“How could Melantha have forgotten that day?” Jalissa twisted her skirt as if trying to strangle it. “How could she remember the blood dripping from his face and the tears he was trying so hard not to cry and still do this to him?”
Essie swallowed back the lump in her throat, heart aching inside her.
“Father packed up and moved to Lethorel with Farrendel that same day. He spent most of the next few decades ruling from there with Weylind taking over most of the day-to-day responsibilities in Estyra.” Jalissa swiped at her face, dashing away the single tear that had trickled down her face. “I spent most of my time in Lethorel while Melantha stayed in Estyra. I did not think anything of that until now.
”
Essie rubbed her fingers against her dirty dress, sneaking a glance at Jalissa. “Weylind loves Farrendel, and he spent just as much time away from him while Farrendel was growing up as Melantha did. It cannot be only that.”
“No, I suppose not. But Melantha had been free to visit in a way he was not. She could have chosen to spend more time in Lethorel if she had wished. Weylind was already married at the time, but she was...well, had been...”
“Had been what?” Essie remembered Melantha had said something about how her and Jalissa would never be happy as long as Farrendel was alive. Was this what she was talking about?
Jalissa drew in a shaky breath. “She was betrothed. He nearly broke it off once Farrendel’s birth was revealed, and she managed to convince him not to take such a drastic measure. But when it became clear after that attack that Father was not going to banish Farrendel and our family would forever be labeled as tainted because of it, Melantha’s betrothed broke it off and married someone else less than a year later, a scandalously quick wedding for elven standards.”
“That would be scandalous even by human standards.” Essie couldn’t help the wry grimace. If less than a year was scandalous, her and Farrendel’s marriage was horribly gossip-worthy.
“Neither Melantha nor I have ever gotten another offer. None of the respectable elven families would wish to marry into ours, for all we are royalty. I did not realize Melantha blamed Farrendel for that. I certainly do not.” Jalissa finally unclenched her fingers and smoothed the front of her dress. “I was only a hundred and two when Farrendel was born. I had not yet established my own life like Weylind and Melantha.”
“I know you and Farrendel are close.” It made sense, since they were the closest in age. For Jalissa, the age gap between her and Farrendel was the same as it was to her and Melantha. Not so for Melantha or Weylind.
At a hundred and two when he’d been born, Jalissa had been roughly the same age Farrendel was now. An adult, yes, but for an elf, barely an adult. She’d been like an eighteen-year-old human. An adult on paper, but still living much like a child under the parents’ authority. It had been easier for her to be a true sibling to Farrendel in a way it was harder for Weylind and Melantha.
