Page 3

Six days ago...

PRINCE RHARRETH of the trolls didn’t resist as his brother King Charvod shoved him down the passageways of the dungeons of Gror Grar. Charvod’s shield band followed, menacing and glaring as if Rharreth had done something wrong.

Had Charvod discovered that Rharreth had allowed Princess Melantha to stay in Laesornysh’s dungeon cell, a mercy Rharreth should not have extended to that enemy of his people? Even if it had seemed the right thing to do, at the time.

If Charvod didn’t already know, he would find out when he stepped into that dungeon cell. Rharreth hadn’t had a chance to fetch Princess Melantha and return her to her cell.

Perhaps Rharreth could delay him? Rharreth reached for Charvod’s arm. “What is this about, brother? What has happened on the front?”

It could not have been good. Kostaria’s warriors were in retreat, much of the army returning to Gror Grar. Why would Charvod order such a retreat instead of fighting for every inch of ground?

Charvod glared at him and didn’t answer, as he hadn’t answered the last several times Rharreth had questioned him on their march from the main gates to the dungeons.

As Charvod opened the locked door at the end of Laesornysh’s passageway, the door to Laesornysh’s dungeon flew open. Princess Melantha raced out, making it halfway to her own cell before she glanced up and skidded to a halt, wide eyes focused on Charvod and Rharreth standing there.

“All of you stay here.” Charvod barked at his shield band before he stalked down the corridor in Princess Melantha’s direction. She gave a short cry and tried to both hit and kick Charvod as he gripped her arm.

Rharreth strode after his brother, his stomach sinking into his toes. How had Princess Melantha escaped the stone shackle Rharreth had secured around her ankle? It had not been tight, but it also should have been impossible for her to slip free.

Charvod shoved Princess Melantha back into Laesornysh’s cell, and she tumbled to the floor, looking pitifully small at Charvod’s feet as her black hair straggling around her.

Rharreth stepped into the cell and caught his breath at the faint crackle of elven magic filling the space.

Still pinned to the floor, thin and haggard, Laesornysh’s eyes blazed, his jaw hard as he focused on Charvod.

“Why have you allowed her to stay here?” Charvod glared, his fists clenching as if he intended to turn his violent anger onto Rharreth next.

“A small compassion for a captive, nothing more.” Rharreth glanced from Princess Melantha to Laesornysh. It had seemed like a small gesture, a way to ease the guilt gnawing in Rharreth’s chest. It was not honorable to torture even the despicable Laesornysh the way he had been tortured by Charvod.

Yet, in trying to right one dishonor, had he dishonored himself more by aiding an enemy of his people?

Charvod’s eyes flared, and he lifted his hand.

Rharreth braced himself, seeing the signs of a strike coming. Would Charvod strike him? Charvod had always promised he would never lash out at Rharreth the way their father had.

And yet, the more Charvod had tortured Laesornysh, the more Rharreth had seen their father in him.

At the last moment, Charvod changed the direction of his strike so that he jabbed Rharreth in the chest with a finger instead. Cold dripped from his words as he met Rharreth’s gaze, tilting his head up since Rharreth stood a few inches taller. “Thanks to yourcompassion, some of his magic was used during the fighting on the front lines.”

What? Rharreth glanced to Laesornysh, but Laesornysh’s hard eyes gave nothing away. “How is that possible? No one can use their magic in a place without being there in person. Are you sure it was his magic? Magic like his is rare, only appearing every few generations, but perhaps the elves discovered another who can wield a similar magic.”

Yet, Rharreth’s gaze dropped to the broken shackle around Princess Melantha’s ankle. The taste of crackling magic still filled the air. It had not been Princess Melantha with her healing magic that broke the shackle.