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