Death Wind (Elven Alliance #3) - Tara Grayce Page 0,52

his guard up, he could not hate her. No, worse. He was pretty sure he was most of the way to forgiving her.

If he was not careful, he would end up trusting her before this was over.

The door creaked again, and Prince Rharreth’s heavy tread tromped back into the dungeon cell.

Farrendel flicked a glance toward the troll prince as he knelt. An icy flood of troll magic rushed through the stone piercing Farrendel. He sucked in a breath, gritting his teeth at the renewed rush of pain, though Melantha’s magic managed to dull it somewhat.

He forced himself to breathe deeply and steadily until the pain subsided.

Prince Rharreth stood and turned to leave.

“Why would you allow her to help me?” Farrendel needed to probe for the answer. He was not sure Prince Rharreth would tell him the truth, but he had to ask anyway.

Prince Rharreth faced him once again, crossed his arms, and studied Farrendel.

Farrendel was not sure what he would see. Desperation, perhaps.

After a long moment, Prince Rharreth’s shoulders rose and fell, as if in a deep breath. “This is not how I would have chosen to deal with a prisoner.”

Farrendel huffed out something that might have been a laugh in different circumstances. He twisted his fingers as much as he could, pointing at himself. “You do not have a choice for me. Nothing less would hold me.”

“If it were up to me, I would not have taken you prisoner. I would have killed you as due a vanquished enemy.” Prince Rharreth rested a hand on the sword belted at his hip.

“I see.” As Farrendel had decided he would rather survive for Essie, even if it meant enduring torture, he was almost thankful Prince Rharreth had not been the one in charge. Almost.

“Nor would I use torture, even for the elf that killed my father.” Prince Rharreth’s gaze hardened, his mouth thinning. “But I can understand why my brother would wish to.”

“He is much like your father.” It was probably not wise to bring up the late troll king, but this had started with him. The late troll king had been the one to order the raids that killed the elf queen. He had tortured Farrendel and killed his father.

It had been wrong to hunt him down and kill him out of vengeance. The horror of so deliberately shedding blood still plagued Farrendel’s nightmares. But there were times he struggled to feel truly sorry he had killed his tormentor. Perhaps he was only sorry he had not found a better way, a more honorable way, of going about it. It was likely that, had Farrendel waited, he would have had the chance to kill the troll king on the battlefield.

“Yes.” Prince Rharreth glanced away, the only acknowledgment that he was likely to make that his brother had the same enjoyment of torture that their father had.

As the recipient of their torture-happy ways, Farrendel could vouch for that aspect of their personality.

With one last glance in Farrendel’s direction, Prince Rharreth stalked from the dungeon cell. The door thunked shut behind him, the bar sliding into place. At this point, that sound was almost comforting because it signaled a few hours of being left alone.

Farrendel stared at the ceiling, the patterns of the stone overhead memorized by now. He waited until even the echoes of footfalls faded before he accessed his magic. With Melantha there for most of the day, he had not dared store the magic in the heart bond in case she sensed what he was doing. Nor had he been sure he could draw on his magic without letting a few crackling bolts slip free.

Hints of magic crackled around his fingertips under the blanket. It was so tempting to use the magic to crack the stone binding him. It would be such a relief to move a hand or arm or curl onto his side for the night to relieve the throbbing bruises on his back.

But the trolls would notice if his bonds were broken, and it was not yet time to make his move. As much as it hurt to lie here, he had to be patient. His chance would come, and this time he would be ready for it in a way he had not been fifteen years ago.

Essie, I am going to pour more magic into the heart bond.

He sensed her pausing, questioning, waiting.

When he drew his magic into his chest this time, it was easier to pour it into the heart bond than it had