think, lately. I have realized how disappointed—no, more than disappointed—Father would be with me. Mother, too. She would have liked you.”
“I would not exist if she had lived.” Their father never would have betrayed her. He had loved her too deeply. Farrendel bit back the ache in his chest. It had been too easy as a boy to imagine that the kind, loving person that everyone talked about would have extended that love to him, despite how he had been born.
Much like how Essie’s mother had taken him into the family, even though he had ended up married to her daughter because of a treaty. The memory eased the pain. Whatever the pain that still lingered in his own family, Essie’s family had shown him healing was possible. Perhaps his family would find a way toward the happiness her family had built after the death of her father.
Assuming he and Melantha survived this.
Melantha reached, as if to rest a hand on his shoulder, but drew her hand back. “I still miss my mother, dreadfully. But, being here has reminded me of how much I am thankful you exist. You are my...” She hesitated. “You are family.”
It stung, that she still would not claim him as her brother. But a part of him trusted her more because of it. It would have been suspicious if she had been too quick to assert he was her brother after what she had said while betraying him.
The last bit of tension faded from his muscles. Perhaps he was making a mistake. But this was his choice, and maybe, if he chose wrong, he would die before learning the truth. He would rather die believing his sister actually loved him. “Did you hear their plans for me? And Weylind?”
Melantha grimaced. “Yes. Hard not to when King Charvod was shouting.”
“I cannot allow King Charvod to go through with his plans. Not only do I not want to die pinned to the wall of Gror Grar...”
Melantha’s grimace twisted her face even more. “Understandable. I think King Charvod is going crazier the longer he has you in his clutches.”
Something Farrendel had seen in the late troll king as well. “But I especially do not want Weylind to be killed trying to rescue me like Father was. Nor do I wish to put any of Essie’s family in danger. Whether King Charvod parades me out during the attack or if Weylind sends a small party into this dungeon to attempt a rescue, it will be a trap. Anyone trying to rescue me will be killed.”
“And you have a plan to prevent that? How can I help?” Melantha leaned forward, her hands fisted in her skirt.
Did she sound too eager? As if she had been playing up until this moment to get him to spill his secret?
No, he had chosen to trust her. He was not going to doubt himself now. Of course she was eager. She was also stuck in this dungeon, and, even though she had resented Farrendel, she loved Weylind as a brother. A brother with whom she shared a father and a mother. She would not wish to see Weylind killed.
“I do not plan to be here when King Charvod comes to kill me.” Farrendel drew on his magic and let a few bolts twine around his fingers.
Melantha gasped and flung back the blanket covering his hand nearest her. She gaped at his fingers. “You can use your magic.”
“Thanks to your healing magic. When you coat the stone and troll magic with yours, it stops their effect on me, and I am able to access my magic.” Farrendel drew his magic back into his chest, easing it into the heart bond. That was something he was going to keep to himself. He might have decided to trust Melantha, but it would be best if she did not know everything. “I believe I can break the stone pinning me and free myself.”
“Really?” Melantha stopped hugging her knees and sat forward, her eyes wide. “Then what are we waiting for? Break the stone, and we can get out of here while the trolls are distracted.”
It soothed his suspicions that she was so eager. Perhaps it helped prove that she was just as much a prisoner as he was. Her cheeks were sunken, her cheekbones sharp. Her dress hung on her frame, her fingers knobby. If she was helping the trolls, then she was being forced in some way. Surely no one would go to such lengths as to