Death Wind (Elven Alliance #3) - Tara Grayce Page 0,32
in pain. No, this was his mind and heart slowly dying, hardening. No matter how much encouragement she sent his way, he was turning cold. As cold as he’d been the day she’d met him.
The iron wall slammed shut between them. Essie winced and caught her breath. She suspected Farrendel blocked her whenever he was being tortured. Just because she couldn’t feel his pain didn’t make it that much easier knowing every time he was suffering.
Weylind halted and turned to her. “Is something wrong? You have gone pale. Should I call for a healer?”
Essie grimaced and leaned against the nearest tree. How much should she tell Weylind? Though, he might understand more than her brothers would. “I’m getting better at sensing Farrendel though the heart bond. He’s figured out how to block me when he’s being tortured, but it still means I know when it’s happening.”
“They are torturing him right now, are they not?” Lines grooved deep into Weylind’s face. His fingers fisted, and deep green magic swirled down his arms. The grass around his feet grew several inches.
“Yes.” Essie swallowed and wrapped her arms over her stomach. She was normally the overly optimistic one. She could find a silver lining in anything.
But how could she find a silver lining in Farrendel’s torture? All she wanted to do was rescue him as quickly as possible and end his suffering.
“I see.” Weylind nodded and swept his gaze over the sprawling encampment once again. He straightened his shoulders. “We will rescue him, isciena.”
Essie nodded, also taking in the bustle of the Escarlish soldiers setting up camp.
Farrendel was the reason Weylind was even allowing the Escarlish army in Tarenhiel. Perhaps they could have formed an alliance against the trolls if Farrendel hadn’t been captured. But it wouldn’t have looked like this. Because of Farrendel, Weylind was willing to risk far more than he would have considered any other way.
Farrendel, I hope you know just how much your capture has deepened this alliance.
If there was a silver lining in his capture, this was it. The Tarenhieli-Escarlish alliance would not have made this much progress without it.
As Weylind wandered off to select his tree for his shelter, Essie located her tent, made of deep green canvas with the royal standard flying above it. Inside, a rug covered the lush grass with a cot along the back wall, a small wood-burning stove set in the center with a pipe going through a hole in the ceiling, and a trunk with her things had been set along the sloped wall by the end of the cot.
Essie set her bag on the cot. The tent appeared empty and lonely. She pressed a hand to her chest, even if the iron wall remained between her and Farrendel. As long as she had the heart bond, she wasn’t entirely alone.
An hour later, Essie stood at the edge of the train platform next to Averett with King Weylind standing on Averett’s other side and several of Escarland’s generals standing next to her. Behind them, this division of Escarland’s army stood in stiff rows, awaiting the arrival of the elven army.
Essie blew out a long breath, trying to ease the tightness in her stomach and chest. Why was she so nervous? Everything was going to be fine. The soldiers on both sides were disciplined enough that they weren’t going to just break out in fighting.
That still didn’t stop her nerves. This moment needed to go just right. It would set the tone for the entire alliance and war. If all went well, the other elven armies would start arriving at the other two main encampments tomorrow.
Essie shook herself and refocused on the train tracks. Was that a blur of silver glinting far off in the trees?
Moments later, the silver elven train glided into view, easing to a stop alongside the platform.
Essie pasted on her smile and swiped her hands on her trousers yet again.
The doors on the train cars opened, and the first of the elven warriors marched from the train. Polished armor winked in the sunlight while oiled leather shone between the pieces of armor. Bows and quivers full of arrows stuck out over shoulders while some of the elves wore short, curving swords on their backs and others had longer swords strapped to their waists.
As they marched from the train, the warriors stepped to the side and lined up in precise rows in the cleared space facing the Escarlish army. All of them wore identical, serene expressions.