Death Wind (Elven Alliance #3) - Tara Grayce Page 0,106
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 last? 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?