Death Wind (Elven Alliance #3) - Tara Grayce Page 0,19

was captured. But he was also strategically placed behind enemy lines. Maybe even inside the trolls’ fortress. He would have to figure out how to take advantage of that.

Essie, tell our brothers I will be ready.

She would not be able to understand his exact words, but perhaps enough of the meaning would come through anyway.

Something like determination came from Essie, and it almost felt like she was reaching for him, as if they could somehow hold hands across the distance.

How was it possible that he could still feel the elishina even though his own magic was blocked? He would have expected that it too would be blocked by the stone and troll magic.

But the magic of the heart bond was something deeper and far more mysterious than even the powerful magic he wielded. It could not be blocked by something as simple as stone.

Whatever he faced, he would not do it alone.

A shiver passed through him, not caused by the cold in his toes. How much would Essie feel through the heart bond? From talking with her, Farrendel had gathered that she did not feel the heart bond as constantly as he did, though she had experienced other effects, like learning elvish far faster than normal, that he had not. Yet she had awakened because of his panic earlier.

Would she feel something as intense as torture through the heart bond? Torture, he could handle. But if Essie suffered along with him...that was something he could not bear.

Was there a way he could block the heart bond somehow? He had to try if he was to protect her from this.

What would happen if he could not protect her? If the torture pushed him close to death, would the heart bond try to keep him alive, as it had when he had nearly been killed in that troll ambush? What if the trolls killed him, and it killed Essie along with him?

He could not allow that to happen. Whatever happened, he had to protect Essie.

Something clanked farther in the dungeon. A door creaked open. Boots tromped on stone in the passageway, along with a lighter, scuffling sound of a smaller person being hustled along.

A door grated, closer this time. Someone gave a muffled cry before the door thunked closed. The booted footsteps turned in the direction of Farrendel’s dungeon door.

Farrendel drew in a deep breath, bracing himself. Was the torture about to begin? Already? He had barely gathered his mental defenses in preparation.

Something scraped before the door swung open. The troll prince, Prince Rharreth, strode inside, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the top of the frame. The torchlight cast shadows across his hard face. In one hand, he held a bowl that wafted a faint hint of steam into the air, bringing with it a savory smell.

Food. Farrendel’s stomach clenched again. When was the last time he had eaten? In the haze of the drug they had used to keep him unconscious for the trip across Tarenhiel and Kostaria, he could not remember if he had been fed. Perhaps, unconscious as he was, they had only managed to force a little water down his throat to keep him alive.

Prince Rharreth flicked his gaze over him before he knelt beside him. Setting the bowl aside, Prince Rharreth touched one of the stone bindings around Farrendel’s wrist.

Pain flared, and Farrendel gritted his teeth against it. This was merely the troll checking that the bindings were secure. The real torture had yet to begin. Still, he imagined himself shutting an iron door between him and Essie, locking the heart bond deep inside his chest.

Prince Rharreth drew a canteen from his belt and uncapped it. “You should drink.”

He held it to Farrendel’s mouth, and Farrendel gulped at the cool water, struggling not to choke.

This was not a kindness. If the trolls wished to keep him alive to torture him and use him as bait for Weylind, then they needed to give him enough sustenance to survive. He had no need to fear poison. A quick death from poison was the last thing the trolls would want.

Seeming to judge Farrendel had enough, Prince Rharreth withdrew the canteen, picked up the bowl, and dug out a small crust of bread. He dipped the bread in the broth. This close, Farrendel could tell that the broth was watery with only a few small pieces of vegetable. Hardly palatable, but, at this point, Farrendel did not care.

When Prince Rharreth shoved the crust toward him, Farrendel nearly refused to