Death Wind (Elven Alliance #3) - Tara Grayce Page 0,71

him, binding him to the floor. He cried out as stone stabbed through his shoulders.

King Charvod grabbed Melantha’s upper arm and hauled her to her feet. “You will regret turning on us and helping him.”

“Don’t punish her. He is her brother, after all. The failing was mine.” Prince Rharreth’s hard expression did not change. “I will accept your punishment.”

King Charvod jabbed a finger at his brother again. “Oh, you will face my punishment as well. You have betrayed your brother and your king in aiding Laesornysh.”

Head high, Prince Rharreth marched from the cell first, followed by King Charvod dragging Melantha with him. Just before the door slammed shut, King Charvod glared over his shoulder at Farrendel.

That glare held a promise. Prince Rharreth and Melantha would be punished first, but Farrendel would feel every bit of their pain, and then some.

He swallowed and stared at the ceiling. If King Charvod’s rage was any indication, it would be surprising if he survived the night.

MELANTHA CLAWED her way through the blackness and waves of pain. For several long moments, it took all her will to simply breathe. With each inhalation, another spike of pain shivered down her back.

Hay prickled against her cheek. She peeled her eyes open and blinked several times, trying to get her mind to function past the pain.

She lay on the pile of straw against the back wall of her cell. Both blankets were missing, and a cool draft brushed against the skin of her back.

Her back. She bit her lip at the pain and the memories. Shackles pinning her to the wall. King Charvod wielding the whip laced with troll magic.

A whip. She had not realized such instruments of torture were still employed in these modern times. Surely such things had been banished to history.

But she should have known King Charvod would still keep something like that, just in case.

He had used it not just on her, but on his own brother as well. She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory of several trolls pinning Prince Rharreth to the wall as he bore his brother’s punishment.

Only when Prince Rharreth had been wounded and weak had King Charvod turned the whip on her. King Charvod had still had to order Prince Rharreth restrained, then eventually knocked unconscious to prevent him from stopping her punishment.

She shifted, and stone rattled. Frowning, she tilted her head and peered at her hands. Stone shackles bound her wrists. Cold stone rested against her ankles. It might not be as restricting as Farrendel’s bonds, but she was bound more than she had been.

Gathering her strength, she pushed onto her elbows. Tears sprang to her eyes at the pain flashing through the raw welts and bleeding slices on her back.

With all this stone around her, would she be able to heal herself? The stone shackle had not impeded her ability to heal Farrendel.

It took several more moments of effort to push herself all the way to sitting. She leaned a shoulder against the wall, her head spinning, blackness bursting in front of her eyes. She forced herself to breathe deeply, steadily, until some of the dizziness faded.

Wincing, she rested her right hand on her left arm and reached for her magic. At first, she could only grasp a sliver of it. She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating.

It was not the stone making it difficult but her pain. Gritting her teeth, she dug deeper and dredged up her magic, sliding it through her skin and into her back.

The pain faded, though the weakness remained. Loss of blood, most likely. And she had poured a great deal of her magic into Farrendel before she had been dragged away.

Was Farrendel all right? What had King Charvod done to him while she had been unconscious?

Melantha staggered to her feet and tottered toward her door. With her arms and feet shackled, she could no longer reach the window in the door. She eased to the side, trying to see down the corridor.

What if King Charvod was still there? She would not wish to call out to Farrendel if anyone would overhear.

No, the corridor was too quiet. If King Charvod was still there, there would be cries of pain.

“Farrendel? Can you hear me? Are you all right?” She waited, holding her breath to hear any faint reply.

Nothing.

What if Farrendel was dead? It would have been wiser for King Charvod to kill him—to kill both of them—long before now. Would King Charvod risk Farrendel regaining his magic again and keep him alive to