Death Wind (Elven Alliance #3) - Tara Grayce Page 0,16

Certainly nothing more than what you have already done.” King Charvod shrugged, as if what he was about to ask her was nothing to raise her concern. The light from the windows highlighted the hard lines of his square jaw. “All you would have to do is give us a few more pieces of information. The size of your brother’s army. His likely strategy. The kinds of magic he will unleash now that he no longer has Laesornysh to fight at his side.”

Yes, she had given the trolls information about Farrendel and his human wife. But she had done her best never to betray true military information to the trolls. All of the weapons smuggling had been Thanfardil’s doing, not hers. She was not fully a traitor. Not really.

And she was not about to start now, especially not after the trolls had played her for a fool once already. She was not about to help them kill Weylind, Jalissa, and the rest of her family, even if it meant Melantha would suffer in a troll dungeon.

She drew herself straight. “I will not give you any information. I am no traitor.”

King Charvod smirked. “Are you sure your brother sees it that way?”

“Which brother?” The question popped out before she caught herself.

“You’re going to claim him as your brother now?” King Charvod snorted, his fingers clenching on the stone armrests on his chair.

It was a little late to start claiming such filial connection. Melantha hugged her arms over her twisting stomach. What was Prince Rharreth doing to Farrendel down in that dungeon even as she was sitting here?

“You really should re-think your position.” King Charvod flattened his palms on the stone armrests of his chair. Icy magic swirled from his fingers and into the stone, traveling through the floor, before bursting into her chair.

Tendrils of stone reached out and circled her body, clamping her to the back of the chair and pinning her arms to her sides. She caught her breath at the pain as the troll magic touched her skin. Still, she gritted her teeth and faced King Charvod. “No.”

A knock sounded on the door, then it opened. Prince Rharreth strode inside, though he halted almost immediately, his gaze flicking to her, then to his brother. “I was under the impression she would not be tortured.”

“She is still an enemy. An elf.” King Charvod stroked the arm of his chair, as if he itched to send more magic into the stone. After a moment, he shook his head. “Do not give me a lecture on honor. She will not be harmed as long as she does nothing foolish. You won’t act foolishly, will you, elf princess?”

Melantha glared back and kept her mouth shut. She had already given these trolls too much ammunition to use against her family.

“Or unless her brother acts foolishly.” King Charvod leaned back in his chair, nodding as if agreeing with whatever debate he had been having in his head. “Lock her in a cell not far from her brother. It will be easier to fetch her if Laesornysh needs to be persuaded to cooperate.”

Prince Rharreth raised his eyebrows. “I thought you said my magic would be enough to contain him.”

“It should be, but it never hurts to take extra precautions when it comes to Laesornysh.” King Charvod stood and turned his back to them. “Take her away. I need to see to the preparations for war.”

War. Against her family and her home.

Melantha did not resist as Prince Rharreth used his magic to release her from the chair and hauled her to her feet. Being locked in the dungeon was exactly what she deserved.

HIS TOES WERE COLD.

He was in pain as well, head pounding, agony flaring all through his body, but he had expected the pain. Not the cold toes.

Farrendel blinked, his eyes gritty. It took several moments for the blur of darkness and orange light to focus into a stone ceiling above him, lit with torchlight stretching from the barred window set in the door, reinforced with stone and troll magic.

Not that he could reach the door. He lay spread-eagle on the floor, pain flaring from all the places the magic-laced stone pinned him down. Agony cut not just on top of his skin where the stone wrapped around his wrists and ankles, but also at points where the stone pierced through him.

He could turn and lift his head, relieving the ache where the back of his head had rested against the stone floor for far too