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But even if Laesornysh had figured out a way to use his magic here, no one knew of a way to use magic over such a distance. Otherwise, Rharreth would have done so to aid his people in holding back the elf and human invaders who had stormed their way into Kostaria’s borders while he had been stuck here in Gror Grar guarding Laesornysh.

“It was his. I recognized the taint of it.” Charvod sneered, shoving Rharreth away as if he found him too unintelligent to discuss such matters. “If there is a way to launch such an attack from a distance, I’m sure this murdering elf could discover it.”

“Then I have failed you.” Rharreth braced himself against the stone wall, bowing his head in submission to his brother. Could Laesornysh have attacked from a distance? What if Rharreth’s compassion for an enemy had led to the deaths of his own people?

It would be to his shame. His dishonor.

Yet, a part of him wasn’t entirely sure he regretted it. And that tore straight through his chest. Honor was supposed to be a clear path to follow. Something was either dishonorable or it was not. There should not be a muddy area in between.

With a growl deep in his chest, Charvod grabbed Princess Melantha by her hair, his mouth twisting almost in pleasure as she cried out. Her hands scrabbled to tug Charvod’s fingers free of her hair. Charvod shook her. “What did you do? It must have been something you did. He would have done something before now if he could have.”

Rharreth clenched his fists, his chest aching. He must not react. He must not step in between his brother and justice to an enemy.

“What did you do?” Charvod shook Melantha harder by her hair, her slim body looking frail and breakable compared to his looming presence. “I shall have you punished for this.”

Why didn’t this feel like justice? Why were Rharreth’s knees shaking, his head pounding with memories of his mother’s cries of pain, his father’s accusations of weakness?

Rharreth could not stand by. If this was what justice to an enemy looked like, then he wanted no part of it.

As he pushed off the wall and reached for Charvod, the sizzle of magic choked the air a moment before blazing bolts of power surrounded Laesornysh on the floor. With a crack, all of the restraints on his hands and arms snapped as easily as thin, late spring ice.

Silver-blue eyes glinting nearly as much as his magic, Laesornysh lifted a hand. Magic shot toward Charvod.

Charvod’s magic flared around him, though not quickly enough. Laesornysh’s magic blasted his hand, and he dropped Princess Melantha with a growl, shaking his hand.

“Do not touch my sister.” Laesornysh’s voice was hard, his muscles tensed as if he was about to push off the floor that had held him captive for so long.

Rharreth remained frozen where he was. He should call on his magic to defend his brother. But he had been about to fight his own brother over his treatment of the elf princess if Laesornysh had not intervened first.

The members of Charvod’s shield band piled into the corridor outside, but with Rharreth and Charvod in the doorway, they could not rush into the room to help.

Charvod’s mouth twisted in a snarl as he blasted more of his magic at Laesornysh. Rharreth had to brace himself against the wall as the ground shook with the force of Charvod’s magic clashing against Laesornysh’s. Fingers of the stone floor tried to reach for Laesornysh, but blue magic held them back.

Rharreth should aid his brother. It was dishonorable to do otherwise, and he could not allow Laesornysh to take this fortress down around their heads.

As Rharreth pressed his hand to the wall next to him and called on his magic, his gaze caught on Princess Melantha. That was the only reason he saw the slight shake to her head.

Laesornysh’s magic ceased of its own accord a heartbeat before Charvod’s magic-filled stone swarmed over him, restraining him once again.

When Charvod turned back to Rharreth and Princess Melantha, he smirked, as if he thought he had bested Laesornysh and wrestled him into submission.

But Rharreth knew the truth. Laesornysh was still biding his time for the right moment.

He should tell Charvod. They should kill Laesornysh here and now because he was not as contained as they had thought. They had a feral wolf locked in their dungeon, and he would kill them all the moment he believed the time was right.

Would Charvod even listen if he said anything? He had not listened when he had counseled against the plan to capture Laesornysh. Nor had he listened when Rharreth had protested Laesornysh’s torture or Princess Melantha’s treatment.

More than that, Rharreth had come to respect this elven warrior Laesornysh. He hadn’t wanted to. He had wanted to continue to hate the elf assassin who had murdered his father and killed so many of his people.

But, it was hard to see this Laesornysh—the one who had endured so much torture with a strength that would have brought honor to any troll warrior in similar circumstances—as a dishonorable enemy.

Charvod gripped Princess Melantha’s upper arm again, jerking her to her feet and giving her another shake. “You will regret turning on us and helping him.”

Princess Melantha’s face whitened, but she straightened her shoulders. The look of a warrior preparing to face certain death in battle.

Pinned to the floor once again, Laesornysh glared at Charvod, his fists clenching. After a moment, he glanced to Rharreth and held his gaze, seeming to ask something of him.

Rharreth heard the echo of Laesornysh’s accusation the first day he’d been brought to Gror Grar,You are just like your father. He enjoyed torturing helpless victims as well.