Death Wind (Elven Alliance #3) - Tara Grayce Page 0,57
cautious. But if Farrendel was pinned like a bug on the wall of Gror Grar, his blood dripping down the stones, Weylind would lose his caution. He would be desperate.
It was so tempting to grasp his magic and blast it through the troll king’s heart.
If he did that, then he would never see Essie again. Prince Rharreth would kill him only seconds after King Charvod died.
The truth was, Farrendel only lived because King Charvod wanted him alive for torture.
If Farrendel could take out King Charvod, would it matter if he died as well? Was that the kind of sacrifice his father would have made?
But Farrendel had promised Essie to survive. He wanted that life, the life he had tasted so briefly during those three months with her.
Perhaps he should not kill King Charvod just yet. He should conserve his magical strength and make sure that, when he made his move, he would be able to kill the troll king and defend himself. After all, King Charvod had all but promised he would come for Farrendel when Weylind attacked. That was the moment when Farrendel would make his move.
By then, Escarland’s and Tarenhiel’s combined army would have proved they could defeat Kostaria. They would be in a position of strength to negotiate a peace with Prince Rharreth. If Farrendel killed King Charvod now, not only would Farrendel end up dead, but Weylind and Averett would only have just stepped foot in Kostaria. Prince Rharreth might not even negotiate for peace. He might choose to push them back and continue the war rather than admit defeat.
No, Farrendel needed to bide his time.
“Are you even listening?” King Charvod growled. “Perhaps a shot to the heart is too quick for your brother. Perhaps I should give him a taste of what you have suffered before he dies.”
“I will...kill you...first.” Farrendel glared at King Charvod. It took all his self-control not to reach for his magic.
King Charvod slapped his hand to Farrendel’s chest and shoved his magic through Farrendel into the floor, drawing on the stone.
Farrendel’s breath seized. He could not breathe, could not think, as another wave of pain slammed into him. Pain and blood and screams until, finally, black nothingness.
Something cold and wet touched his mouth. Farrendel groaned. His head hurt. His chest hurt.
“Farrendel. Can you hear me?”
Essie?
No, not Essie. She was far away.
A warm, soothing magic flowed through him, brushing away the pain in his head and his chest.
Not Essie. Melantha.
He cracked his eyes open. Her black hair blurred against the ceiling for a moment before she came into focus.
She tucked a hand beneath his neck, lifted his head, and pressed a cold tin cup to his mouth. “Try to drink a little.”
He sipped at the cold water. It hurt as it settled into his stomach.
How badly had the troll king hurt him this time? Even Melantha’s magic was struggling to heal him.
He reached for the crackle of his magic. Still there, tucked with the warmth of the heart bond. He kept much of the shield in place, keeping Essie from feeling the pain he was still in.
Melantha laid his head back down. She pressed her palm to his forehead. “Just lie easy for a few minutes.”
More warmth soothed his aching muscles and bones. Farrendel drew in as deep a breath as he could manage. As he did, the truth settled more deeply into his chest.
He needed Melantha’s help to make this plan work. He would need her magic, her strength, for he would have no strength left when it came time to act.
But did he dare trust her? If he trusted her, and she betrayed him again...
He would lose Essie forever.
Yet without Melantha’s help, he definitely would not return to Essie. He would end up pinned to the wall of Gror Grar.
He forced his eyes open. “Melantha?”
“Yes?” She leaned over him. Her black hair straggled, unwashed. She shifted her hand from his forehead to his shoulder, pouring another wave of magic into him.
He could feel the crackle of his magic as her healing magic flooded through him. “Why are you helping me now?”
“How could I not?” Melantha fussed with the blanket thrown over him. “I know there is nothing I can say or do to make up for what I did. But I am sorry. I never should have...”
He wanted so badly to believe her. Perhaps that was a reason he should be more wary. Was he merely deluding himself that she was truly sorry?