a deep breath, reaching for the heart bond. It was late, and Farrendel seemed to be dozing. She didn’t want to wake him if he had found some sleep.
All she wanted to do was lean against Farrendel’s shoulder, his arms around her.
Averett hugged her, but it just wasn’t the same. Not at all.
THE DOOR TO Farrendel’s cell slammed. He stared at the ceiling, refusing to glance toward the troll king’s icy presence. It was best to ignore King Charvod as long as possible.
Heavy footfalls clomped to Farrendel’s side. King Charvod loomed into Farrendel’s line of sight. The troll’s gray, square jaw was hard, his dark eyes burning. He knelt and pressed a hand to the stone next to Farrendel’s shoulder. “Escarland has invaded alongside the elves.”
If Farrendel had not been burying his emotions, he might have let some of his satisfaction slip at that news. Essie had done it, making sure their brothers got along enough to organize the invasion. They were coming. Farrendel just needed to hold on.
King Charvod gripped Farrendel’s chin and forced Farrendel to look at him. Behind King Charvod, Prince Rharreth leaned against the wall by the door, his face impassive. King Charvod’s fingers dug painfully into Farrendel’s skin. “What are their plans? How do they intend to take Gror Grar? Not that they will get close. We will push them back over the Gulmorth soon enough.”
Not only had Escarland and Tarenhiel attacked, but they had successfully crossed the Gulmorth River. If the trolls could not stop them with the river between them, then surely the Escarlish and Tarenhieli army would have no trouble continuing to push them back. The next large obstacle would be Gror Grar itself.
“What is their plan?” King Charvod’s fingers dug hard into Farrendel’s jaw. Magic flared around his hand a moment before pain surged through Farrendel’s chest.
Farrendel gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a cry of pain. He would not give King Charvod the satisfaction.
The magic cut off, and Farrendel gasped in a breath past King Charvod’s grip on his chin. Someone like one of Essie’s brothers would have made a sarcastic comment. Probably something about how he had been a little busy being captured and tortured when Escarland’s and Tarenhiel’s generals had made their plans for war.
Instead, Farrendel glared up at King Charvod. “I do not know. I was already your prisoner when they formed their alliance.”
“But you are Tarenhiel’s elite warrior. You must have some idea of their plans.” King Charvod sent another burst of magic into the stones.
This time Farrendel could not fully swallow the cry of pain. Warm, sticky blood dribbled against his back from where the stone had pierced him. “Escarland’s aid will change any strategy I would know.”
He could be certain of only one thing regarding plans. His brother and Essie’s brothers would be coming for him.
Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face. King Charvod’s face cracked with a sneer. “You think they will rescue you, as your father did before. They might try, but even with Escarland’s help, their army will break against the walls of Gror Grar.”
The fortress perched on a steep mountainside with only a single bridge leading to the gate. The inner keep of Gror Grar was built into the mountain with a warren of tunnels, not just for the dungeon but for the inner chambers of the troll king and his family.
Could Weylind take the fortress? Even with the powerful weapons Essie’s kingdom had invented?
“Besides, I have you.” King Charvod grinned as he sent another stab of stone into Farrendel. “When your brother arrives, intending to take the fortress, I will pin you to the walls and let him hear you scream before you die.”
Farrendel tried, but he could not stop a cry of pain this time. His head pounded, and he had to clench his hands to stop himself from unleashing the magic he had conserved over the past few days.
Even if they could take Gror Grar, could they reach Farrendel before King Charvod killed him?
Unlikely. Very unlikely.
“How much will your brother be willing to negotiate to spare you?” King Charvod’s grin showed his teeth. They were not pointed, but they should have been for how feral his grin was. “And while he is negotiating, he will come close to the walls where a bullet to the heart or the head will end him quickly enough. Another elf king killed on Kostarian soil.”
Farrendel could picture it all too clearly. Weylind would be