Death Wind (Elven Alliance #3) - Tara Grayce Page 0,13
only wanted to marry her for her title. He had walked away the moment the scandal of Farrendel’s birth and acceptance into the royal family made the prestige of Melantha’s title meaningless.
But this time, it would cost not just her dreams but her entire family. The trolls would not stop with just Farrendel. They would kill Weylind. Melantha’s sister-in-law Rheva. Her nephew and niece Ryfon and Brina. Jalissa, if she did not flee to Escarland. Their grandmother Leyleira. Anyone and everyone who had ever meant something to Melantha.
In trying to save her family from the decades of scandal and heartache that had plagued them, Melantha had doomed them all. She made everything so much worse.
The wheels squealed, and the entire train gave such a hard, slamming lurch that Melantha thunked against the front wall despite her best efforts. Even Prince Rharreth staggered a step under the force.
With a prolonged screeching that had Melantha pressing her hands over her ears, the train came to a juddering halt.
Prince Rharreth stepped away from the wall, his face in hard, unperturbed lines. “We’re here.”
Melantha peeled herself from the floor, using the wall to help her stand on shaking legs. “And where is here?”
“Gror Grar.” Prince Rharreth grabbed her arm, yanking her forward as the large cargo door scraped open, revealing a squad of trolls dressed in leather armor and carrying Escarlish weapons, though Melantha was not sure if they were rifles or muskets or some other human-made atrocity.
Her knees buckled, and Prince Rharreth all but carried her to the door. Gror Grar was the legendary fortress of the trolls. Supposedly impenetrable, only one elf in living memory had ever successfully breached its walls and come out alive.
She glanced over her shoulder to where Farrendel lay in chains. This time, he would not breach the walls and kill the troll king. He was a prisoner to be subjected to torture while being used as bait to lure Weylind to his death.
Prince Rharreth gripped her arms and swung her off her feet. She shrieked and kicked, but his grip remained solid. She was passed from him to the trolls on the ground as if she were nothing but a sack of cargo.
When she was set on the ground, Melantha drew herself straight, gathering the last shreds of her poise. “Unhand me.”
The two trolls gripping her arms did not budge. Their gray skin might as well have been made of the stone of the surrounding mountains.
King Charvod marched up to them with more troll soldiers flanking him. He climbed into the train car, reappearing a few seconds later with Farrendel dangling limply from his grip. “Behold! The great Laesornysh of the elves!”
The troll soldiers stomped their feet and gave their howling war cries.
King Charvod tossed Farrendel from the train car, and the troll soldiers let him land hard on the ground.
Melantha winced, finding herself taking a step toward Farrendel before she caught herself. Why the concern now? A few days ago, she had hated him enough to try to have him killed. And yet, now, seeing him like this...being caught in this nightmare with him...
It had a way of shining a light into a part of herself she was not sure she wanted to acknowledge. If she looked too closely, she was not going to like what she saw.
King Charvod jumped from the train car, strode to Farrendel’s still form, and kicked him hard in the ribs. “Stripped of your magic, you are nothing. Just a weak, pathetic elfling.”
Amid the laughter of the soldiers, King Charvod hauled Farrendel to his feet and dragged him along, surrounded by the jeering soldiers.
Was Farrendel even conscious? A part of Melantha hoped he was not. Better he remain senseless and never remember these insults hurled at him.
She should not care. She had betrayed him to the trolls, knowing this was the cruelty he would face, even if she had shied away from dwelling on anything besides the hope that her life could finally go back to the way it was before her mother had been killed. Back when her family had not been scorned because of their acceptance of an illegitimate half-brother.
Another stab of that churning pang in her stomach had her hunching over. What would Dacha think about all this?
Did she even need to ask? Her father would have been horrified. He had loved Farrendel as much as he had Weylind. Dacha had sacrificed years of his life to make sure Farrendel had the best childhood he could give him.