Death Wind (Elven Alliance #3) - Tara Grayce Page 0,72

enact his original plan to kill Farrendel in front of Weylind?

“Farrendel?” She called louder this time, unable to erase the edge of panic straining through her voice. She had reminded him not to fight. To be patient and wait for the right moment. What if that had been the right moment? Maybe not the right moment, but the only chance they had?

He could not be dead. If he died now, it would be her fault. All her fault.

“Farrendel!” Her fists clenched as she strained against the shackles, heat building in her chest. If King Charvod had killed Farrendel, then she might just find out what happened to an elf healer who violated her oath and used her magic to kill. At least she could take King Charvod down with her.

“Melantha?” His voice was so faint Melantha had to turn her ear toward the window to hear it. “Are you all right?”

He sounded like he was barely breathing, yet he was asking if she was all right? “I am fine.” She hesitated. For some reason, she did not want to tell him that she had simply healed herself and the pain was already gone. Not when she did not have a way to heal him and take away the pain he was in. “And you? Are you all right?”

He was not. She could hear that much in his voice. But she had to ask, regardless.

“Well enough.”

His answer would have been convincing, if his words had not broken with a moan.

“I am sorry. I should have moved faster. I should have...” She would have leaned her head against the bars of the window, but she could not reach. What could she have done? There had not been time to get from Farrendel’s cell to her own cell before they had been discovered. Perhaps she never should have convinced Prince Rharreth to allow her to stay with Farrendel, but she could not make herself regret the past few days.

“Not your fault.” Farrendel sounded barely conscious. What had they done to him while she had been drifting on that haze of pain?

Still shaky on her feet, she sank to the floor at the edge of the reach of her chains. She would rather have curled up on the hay, but she would not be able to hear Farrendel from there. “If King Charvod is this afraid, then surely it will not be long until Weylind is here.”

Farrendel did not reply. Had he passed out again? How badly was he hurt?

Melantha clenched her fists, breathing past the rising heat in her chest. If only she could blast this cell door off its hinges and heal Farrendel. Then she would march out of here, track down King Charvod, and...

And do what? It was not like she was a warrior. She would probably die as well if she used her magic to kill instead of heal.

It might be worth it.

ESSIE WRAPPED a bandage around the arm of a wounded elf. It was just a shallow gash, and the elf would probably be back in the fight the next day, once the balm Illyna had helped make healed the injury.

Tying off the bandage, Essie gave the elf a smile. “There you are.”

He gave her a return smile. “Linshi, Amirah.”

She glanced around, the setting sun casting shadows from the rows of shelters grown on the rocky ground. Over the past two days, the constant blizzards and ice had dissipated, leaving clear skies for the first time since they had invaded Kostaria.

No more wounded waited for tending. The day’s fighting had been light. Perhaps too light? The combined army was approaching Gror Grar. Shouldn’t the fighting be getting harder, not easier?

“Essie.”

She turned to find Averett striding toward her, though with a hitch in his step. She hurried to him. “Are you hurt? Why are you limping?”

“I’m fine. Just a scratch on my calf.” Averett’s smile was framed with tired lines.

It was more than that. Now that she was closer, she spotted the blood, both brown and dried, red and glistening. “You should let me tend it.”

“I’m fine. Really.” Despite his words, Averett sank onto the rock where the elf warrior had been sitting a moment before. “I sent Edmund with a few elven scouts. He probably won’t be back until late. They are hoping to scout most of the way to Gror Grar and back.”

“And Julien?” Essie eased off Averett’s boot and rolled down his sock, wrinkling her nose at the stench of his foot. A long gash cut through