been invaluable once again.”
Wait, what? Melantha stiffened. The way he had worded that sounded like she had been complicit in this.
Farrendel’s eyes snapped open, flashing a deadly silver-blue and filled with more anger than Melantha had ever seen him direct at anyone, much less at her. “You should have let them kill me. It is what you wanted.”
The snarl in his tone, the venom in his voice, stabbed at her. She opened her mouth, but her words caught in her throat. What defense did she have? She had wanted him dead. She was complicit, even if not quite the way King Charvod had made it sound.
But she had just proved to King Charvod that she would heal Farrendel and save his life if necessary. That meant King Charvod could push his torture farther, take Farrendel even closer to death, than he would dare without a healer present.
And he had just implied to Farrendel that she was willingly and knowingly helping to make the torture worse.
Before she could think of a response, Prince Rharreth dragged her to her feet. She was nearly at the door before she thought to struggle. “Wait. No. It is not like that. I did not...”
But Farrendel had his face turned away from her, his fists clenched.
King Charvod followed them from the cell, slamming the door and the locking bar into place.
Heat burned in Melantha’s chest, down into her hands. She screamed and clawed at Prince Rharreth. “Let me go! Monster! I am not helping you hurt him!”
Prince Rharreth wrapped an arm around her, pinning her arms to her sides as he hauled her down the short stretch of passageway. He shoved her into her cell. Before Melantha had a chance to regain her balance, he had slammed and locked the door.
Melantha gripped the bars and shook the door as hard as she could, filled with the longing to break something. But the stone did not budge. As ever, the burning rage had been denied an outlet. Another scream built in her chest, then tore out her throat past her gritted teeth.
Healing was such a useless power. Sure, she could save Farrendel. But she could also be used against him, turned into a weapon of his torture. What she would not give for the fiery crackle of his magic. Then she could blast this door off its hinges, tear down the walls of this dungeon, and kill all who stood in her way.
The door at the far end of the corridor slammed and locked into place.
With one last shake of the bars, Melantha forced herself to calm with deep, steady breaths. Giving in to her rage helped no one, and only gave the trolls another reason to scorn her.
She had to be calm. Calm as a forest lake. Calm as a bird soaring on a steady breeze. Calm as a perfect elven princess ought to be.
When her heart rate returned to normal, the heat subsiding back to its background simmer in her chest, Melantha gripped the bars set into the window of her cell’s door and peered in the direction of Farrendel’s cell. If she listened closely, she could just make out his breathing, still ragged, still pained, though not with the choking gasp of earlier. “Farrendel?”
A hitch to his breathing, but that was her only answer.
Had she really expected him to talk to her after King Charvod had implied she was helping them torture Farrendel? On top of the betrayal she had actually done?
You are not my brother. Her own words echoed in her ears as she leaned her forehead against the cold stone bars. Callous. Cruel. So despicable even the trolls despised her, even though they had been willing to use her treachery for their own ends.
“I am sorry, Farrendel.” More, broken sincerity filled those words than the last time she had said them two days earlier. How many times would she have to say them before he believed she meant them?
Still no answer. Perhaps nothing she said now would erase her earlier words.
With her eyes squeezed shut, she could all too easily picture the look on her father’s face if he had been alive to know what she had done. The hurt. The anger. The way he would draw back from her. The same look Weylind, Rheva, Machasheni Leyleira, and Jalissa were sure to give her if she ever saw her family again.
Their father had died to save Farrendel’s life, and, in her anger, Melantha had turned that sacrifice vain and empty by placing