Page 40 of Elf Prince

He needed to be cold as the stone around him, all the way to his heart.

More of his magic burst past his control, and he scrambled to direct it at the charging trolls.

A wall of ice sprang up between him and the trolls, taking the brunt of his power.

He had to unleash more of his magic. Behind him, the members of the squad crouched, depending on him—on his magic—to keep them alive.

More magic. More death. Farrendel’s magic burned through his fingers as he released as little as possible.

Killing. Killing. Blood flowing over the stone beneath his feet, coating his clothes, his hair. Until the trolls finally retreated, and Farrendel could finally clamp down on his magic once again.

When he could finally retreat back across the Gulmorth, he ignored the cheers ofLaesornyshthat followed him as he walked between the shelters of the encampment. He did not want their praise for this. Not for the blood he carried on his hands.

Weylind approached, but Farrendel stalked past him with a nod, not wanting to talk. Brushing past Weylind, Farrendel climbed the short ladder, then into his shelter in the tree next to Weylind’s.

Inside, he found a bucket of water and rags waiting for him. Weylind, looking out for him.

Farrendel peeled off his bloody clothes, then washed as best he could with the bucket and rags until the water sloshing in the bucket was a deep, bright red.

So much blood. None of it his own.

Farrendel did not have to imagine what Essie would think of him. She was all light and happiness. If she could see him now, she would turn away in disgust.

* * *

After five days of fighting—andkilling—at the border, Farrendel was worn thin. He straightened his private train car, taking his time packing his few things that he would take with him back to his rooms in Ellonahshinel. Even after his delays, he still found Weylind on the train platform, waiting for him, the sunset glinting on his black hair.

Farrendel ducked his head and lengthened his stride, trying to brush past his brother. He did not want to talk. He was holding himself together with shaking threads. The pressure of trying to talk with Weylind—of deflecting his queries—might be too much. Would be too much.

Instead, Weylind fell into step with him, matching his pace. “That human princess will be in your rooms.”

Farrendel’s stride hitched, but he refused to give Weylind more of a reaction than that unintentional one.

Not just a random human princess. His wife. Essie.

Would she be waiting for him? A part of him desperately needed to see her and bask in the warmth of her smile until he felt alive again instead of this hollowed out shell. But another part of him was too weary to handle anyone, even her. He did not want her to see him like this. All he wanted to do was shut his door—shut everyone out—and justsurviveanother day.

Weylind glanced at him, gaze searching Farrendel’s face. “There are plenty of rooms on the family branch. You can stay there tonight if you wish.”

Farrendel could hear what Weylind was not saying. He was asking if Farrendel would move back to the family branch, a place he had abandoned for his far-flung set of rooms fifteen years ago.

But he could not do that. Not when his family would suffocate him trying to help. Not when he would certainly cry out in his nightmares tonight.

His blood ran cold, and he nearly stopped dead in his tracks again. If he had nightmares tonight, Essie would hear. Would he frighten her?

Perhaps he should take Weylind up on his offer, just this once. Or better yet, stay in his private train car until the nightmares were spent in a few days or a week.

Yet that would leave Essie on her own for longer. And he could not do that to her. They had been married all of three days before he had left for a week of war.

Weylind was still casting glances at Farrendel, waiting for an answer.

“I will be fine.” Farrendel worked to keep his tone cold. If he showed just how shattered he was, Weylind might take matters into his own hands.

Weylind’s gaze searched his face, as if he did not believe Farrendel’s assertion. But, thankfully, they reached the stairs to Ellonahshinel and joined the bustle of servants, warriors, and nobles going to and from the treetop palace. Weylind was caught up by several of the nobles, and Farrendel quickly slipped away from the conversation. A few people nodded to him or welcomed him back, but his expression must have been forbidding enough that most people left him alone.

As he neared his rooms, his heart beat harder. Would Essie greet him? He had never had anyone waiting for him to return, not like this. Sure, his family waited for him to return from war, but it was different to think about awifewaiting for him.

Yet when he reached his suite of rooms, all of them were dark. As he pushed open the door to the main room, he could sense the emptiness. Not just of this main room, but all the rooms of his suite.

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