Hunted (Book 2)

by Megg Jensen

  "My fellows healers and I will deal with them," Malachi promised.

  Bastian didn't feel assured. "What can a group of healers do against trained soldiers?" If every healer was a small woman like Elinor or a twig-thin old man like Malachi, then their plan was doomed.

  A chuckle reverberated in Malachi’s throat, the bump in his neck bobbing up and down. "Those soldiers owe us their lives. We've healed them over and over again. Small wounds. Grievous injuries. We've delivered their children. Nearly every solider in Ashoom owes a healer his life. They will not stand against us."

  "You, but not me. Not the dragon." Bastian gestured to Connor. He hadn't forgotten his friend, trapped in the body of that beast.

  "If we stand before you, no one here will break that line. With the healers on your side, you will have more power than Stacia ever had. It will be our choice who lives and who dies. Not just by your hand, but by ours." Malachi touched the fingertips of each hand together, forming a triangle in front of his chest. "It is time we used our skills for something other than the whims of the crown."

  Bastian's eyebrow rose. "Who will be the real leader here?"

  "You, of course," Malachi said with a smile. "We have no need of the throne for our own purposes. Our partnership with you only affords us the chance to study the dragons. To heal according to the severity of their injuries, instead of to the queen’s orders. We will protect you if you give us our freedom."

  Bastian remembered the physic who had been given charge over Connor when they'd first arrived in Ashoom. He'd claimed he didn't want to hurt Connor and he'd been killed by evil magic when he tried to give them information. Bastian knew firsthand how insidious Stacia's control had been.

  He strode to Malachi, his hand extended. "I will give you freedom, this I swear."

  "We will protect you as long as you remain true," Malachi said, taking Bastian's hand in his.

  They shook only once, a powerful, sure meeting of two men.

  "Now, if you don't mind, I have matters to attend to. I have stationed three of my men outside the throne room. No one will question their authority."

  "And if they do?" Bastian asked, still unsure a group of inexperienced healers could intimidate battle-hardened soldiers.

  A shadow spread over Malachi’s eyes. "If they do, they will discover we not only have the power to heal, but also to destroy." He turned, his black cape fluttering in the air behind him.

  Bastian let out a sigh and rubbed his temples. He took a deep breath, then closed the massive doors to the throne room behind him. He patted his sword on his hip and made his way back to Connor.

  "I think we're as safe as we're going to be. Why don't you head back and get the eggs?"

  The great blue dragon dipped its head, then took flight. His wings spread, the talons on the point of his wings mere whispers away from scraping the walls.

  Without a sound, he flew out the window and ascended until Bastian couldn't see him.

  Bastian looked around the throne room. Stacia's body was gone. So was Henry's, the golden dragon who'd fought against her and foolishly lost in only a moment. He was Jarrett's charge, or friend. Bastian wasn't clear which it was. The boy had been trained poorly and lost his life for it. If that was the kind of protector Jarrett was, then Tressa wasn't safe with him.

  Not that it mattered what Bastian thought. She'd been gone for days now and hadn't come back. Her promises to return weren't as solid as he'd once assumed. Leaving the fog had changed her, and he wasn't sure he liked the new Tressa.

  Still, he loved her, and there was a chance she was in trouble. What kind of a man would he be if he didn't check on her now that he had the power to do so? Bastian flung the doors open. The guards stood silent, ignoring him.

  Bastian cleared his throat.

  Still, they didn't acknowledge him.

  "Is there someone I can send out on a reconnaissance task?" he asked.

  The men's backs remained rigid, their eyes trained on the hallway.

  Bastian strode out of the throne room and stood nose-to-nose with the man on the right. "Get someone who can help me, now."

  The man's eyes shifted toward the healer on the other side of the door. That man nodded imperceptibly. The healer's arms dropped, he stepped around Bastian, and walked down the hall without a word.

  "Who's in charge here?" Bastian asked aloud. The remaining healer didn't answer. He didn't twitch. It was as if Bastian didn't exist.

  Annoyed, he went back into the throne room and slammed the doors behind him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tressa lay on a bed, surrounded by emerald and sapphire silken pillows, her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach. She'd been a little sick the last few days. The healers at the castle attributed it to her wild flight with the dragon.

  Queen Jacinda had visited her a few times. She wasn't exactly kind, but she hadn't been rude to Tressa yet. Perhaps Jarrett had overstated her jealousy.

  Tressa’s eyes wandered to the doorway of her chamber. She'd been ordered to stay. To rest and heal. To let the guards outside her door know if she needed anything.

  Guards. She still wasn't allowed to leave. Not until Jarrett arrived. Jacinda had made that very clear. Tressa wasn't clear on why she was being held. Jacinda told her she'd sent the golden dragon to scoop Tressa out of the desert so she could avoid the unforgiving dry heat. Every time she'd asked why they hadn't brought Jarrett at the same time, someone would change the subject.

  For two days, she lay in the room. Food was delivered at regular intervals. Beautiful, scrumptious oranges and lemons, with pheasant roasted in pineapple juice. She'd never tasted such varied and glorious meals. Clean clothes were brought. A tub was prepared for her every night. Women brushed her hair and braided it. They anointed her skin with oils.

  Tressa felt like a queen. A captive one, but when Jarrett arrived, she'd be set free. At least that's what they promised.

  The door opened without a knock. A maid slipped in the room, her face flush, her cheeks bright red. "He's here. Your promised. He has arrived."

  Tressa leapt to her feet and ran to the window. She looked out on the grand concourse. Sure enough, Jarrett's caravan had made it to Risos. She waved to him, tossing flower petals off the balcony, but he didn't see her. She was too high up, too far away.

  "Does he know I'm here?" she asked the servant girl. The same girl had tended to her, and gossiped with Tressa, since she'd been shut up in this room. Tressa had worried about Jarrett, confiding in this girl how much she was beginning to miss him. Being apart from Jarrett was more difficult with each sun. Tressa was surprised how much she had missed him.

  "I don't know," the girl said. She pulled her hands out from behind her back, revealing a basket laden with flowers and oils. "But I'm sure you'll see him soon. Let's make you beautiful."

  Tressa sat still while the girl braided her hair yet again in another intricate pattern. Had circumstances been different, she would have begged the girl to teach her. Weaving was Tressa's specialty. Instead, she sat quietly, letting the girl pamper her. Fragrant oils were brought out, rubbed up and down her arms. Her feet and legs were slathered in the oil, the girl's expert hands massaging out all the kinks and worries collecting in Tressa's muscles.

  A knock at the door startled both of them. It was the first time anyone had awarded her the courtesy. "Come in," Tressa said.

  She looked at the slave who mouthed, "Jarrett."

  The door flung open and Jarrett strode in. Covered from head to toe in sand, he unwrapped the scarf around his head, flinging hard granules in the air.

  Tressa's instinct was to cover her mouth against the flying sand. Instead, she fought it and ran into Jarrett's outstretched arms. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder. He smelled of camel and cinnamon. It was the sweetest thing she'd ever sniffed.

  "Jarrett!" Despite wanting to maintain her composure, tears streamed down her cheeks.

  "I'm here." He grabbed Tressa's shoulders and pushed her bac
k. "Are you okay?" His eyes looked her up and down, concern radiating from his eyes.

  Tressa dipped her chin. Fear flooded through her. Now that Jarrett was here, she let down her guard and admitted she'd been scared. "Jacinda..."

  "What about me?" The queen swept into the room. "I've done nothing but keep you in the finest clothes and offered you the most gracious hospitality." She stood with her arms crossed, waiting for Tressa to challenge her. Jacinda’s frown morphed into a scowl. “Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it. Now that you’re here, I want to know,” Jacinda craned her neck, looking over Jarrett’s shoulder, “where is my son?”

  Jarrett’s grip on Tressa’s shoulders tightened. She kept the smile on her face, though her happiness at being reunited with Jarrett had melted into fear. Tressa had no idea what Jacinda would do when she found out her son was dead.

  “Jacinda," Jarrett said, "Maybe we should speak privately. Let’s allow Tressa some time to rest. She shouldn’t be dealing with matters of state.”

  Jacinda's eyes narrowed. "No." She looked back and forth at Jarrett and Tressa. "Tell me now. Where is Henry? Did he capture the throne? I haven't received word yet."

  Jarrett stood in front of Tressa, shielding her.

  "Jarrett, my pet, don't hold out on me." Jacinda's voice dripped with poison-tinged sweetness.

  Tressa stared at Jarrett's back, wishing she could give him strength. Or that she could fly them out of there, just as the golden dragon had plucked her from her camel. But they were at a disadvantage, completely at Jacinda's mercy.

  "Henry is dead." He said it without emotion. "He was too young for the mission and I tried to tell you that before you sent us. He wasn't ready. He couldn't control his dragon—"

  Jacinda cut him off. "Don't speak of that." She glared at Tressa over Jarrett's shoulder.

  "She knows," Jarrett said. "Henry changed in front of her. There was nothing I could do. In fact, Tressa has kept his secret. No one else knows."

  Jacinda snorted. Like a dragon. And why not? If Stacia was a dragon and Henry was a dragon, then surely Jacinda was too. Tressa's skin tingled, bumps crawling from her wrists to her shoulders. So far, the dragons she’d met were all a little crazy or cruel. She thought of Connor, his sandy hair and quiet smirk, and the way he roughhoused with his son, how he held the baby so carefully. Would he succumb to the dragon's fire as well?

  "He was a tad immature, I'll grant you that." Jacinda waved a hand in the air, her golden tipped nails sparkling in the sun. "Luckily I have another son, Harib. The one who so graciously brought Tressa here. We will nab that Blue throne yet."

  Jarrett cleared his throat. "Actually, Stacia is dead."

  Jacinda clapped her hands together and laughed. "This is wonderful news. I'll send men right away to set up a regency before the other dragonlords can get there. Tell me who killed that horrid bitch."

  Jacinda stared at Tressa, then switched her penetrating gaze to Jarrett. "No." A nervous laugh fell from her lips. "Not her. Not the whore who tricked you into bed and into a marriage proposal. Impossible. She's just a girl."

  "It's true," Tressa said, shocked Jacinda was more upset about this than her son's death. True, Henry was a prick, but Jacinda was his mother. Did she care for no one?

  "How?" Jacinda sank onto a pillowed settee. "Tell me." She draped her arms over the back of the bench.

  Tressa took a deep breath. "I knew the dragon, I mean Stacia, was going to kill me whether or not I fought back. So I did the best I could."

  Jarrett smiled, picking up her story. "You should have seen her. She fought better than most men when tested by an unknown beast. Even here, no one would dare stand up to our dragons."

  "It's because they know better." Jacinda muffled a yawn. "This girl is clearly a fool."

  "She's the bravest woman I've ever met." Jarrett's eyes softened as he looked back at Tressa.

  Her stomach flipped. Three days away from the man, and she felt like a silly girl in his presence.

  "It wasn't just me," Tressa said, hoping to take some of the attention off herself. "During the battle—"

  "I stepped in," Jarrett said. He placed a hand on Tressa's arm and gave her a knowing look. "But Tressa did all the fighting. She dealt the death blow."

  So he didn't want her to mention the other dragon. Maybe it was for the best. They didn't even know where he was now. Hopefully he had flown to safety.

  "I will immediately send my best men to Ashoom to take the throne." Jacinda folded her arms across her chest. "And the two of you. I want you gone. Take this trash back where you found her. I have no use for either of you."

  "Jacinda," Jarrett sat next to her on the settee. His thigh touched hers; his hand found its way to her knee. Tressa felt a stab in her gut. She had no claim over Jarrett. Jacinda was his lover. He was only keeping up the ruse to protect her.

  "I didn't come here to flaunt Tressa in front of you," Jarrett said. "I came here to tell you about Henry and to beg for your help."

  Jacinda's shoulders softened. Her face lost the pinched look she'd had since Tressa first laid eyes on her. "My help? What do you need me for? You have chosen another."

  The pained look in her eyes told Tressa the truth. She had loved Jarrett. Deeply.

  "I need to talk to you about the village of Hutton's Bridge," Jarrett said.

  Jacinda's angry mask snapped back onto her face, her eyes blazing and her lips pursed. "Not that again. Your trollop over there tried to tell me she was from Hutton's Bridge. It's clearly a lie. Hutton's Bridge is lost to us."

  "It's not." Jarrett grabbed Jacinda's hands, refusing to let her yank them back. "The fog has dissipated."

  "No." Jacinda whispered. "It cannot be true."

  "It is. The villagers are missing. So is the honey."

  "Of course the villagers are missing. They've all been dead for eighty years." Jacinda gave up the struggle against Jarrett and left her hands in his, squeezing hard, drawing on his strength. "They are dead, aren't they?" she asked Tressa.

  She simply shook her head.

  "Have you been making honey all this time?" Jacinda's voice rose an octave.

  "Yes," Tressa said, "but Jarrett has yet to explain to me why the honey is so important. I keep telling him there is nothing special about it."

  Jacinda's nostrils flared. "You're such an ignorant child." She looked to Jarrett. "I swear, I do not understand why you have chosen her. If I had an inkling that you didn't care for her, I'd..."

  "You'd what?" Tressa planned to draw Jarrett's sword from its sheath if she had to. She may not have been born a fighter, but over the last few months, that was what she'd become.

  "I'd kill you." Jacinda said.

  "I've killed one dragon," Tressa said through gritted teeth.

  Jacinda laughed. "I am not afraid of a little girl. And I am nothing like Stacia. She was young. Weak. Barely able to control her power. The only reason she remained queen for years was because Hutton's Bridge cut her off from the rest of the Dragonlands. The Sands has the most powerful fleet. We control the seas. No one went in, or out, of the Blue without my permission."

  "Jacinda, please," Jarrett said, coaxing her to look at him. He shot Tressa an angry look. "We have to focus on what's important. The honey. It's gone."

  "We must know where the honey has been taken," Jacinda said. "For one to have so much control...they must be stopped."

  "And my people must be found," Tressa said.

  "Your people are not of my concern," Jacinda said. She sprang to her feet. "I must arrange for an envoy investigate in Hutton's Bridge and look for clues to the honey's whereabouts."

  Tressa stood. "When do we leave?"

  "Leave?" Jacinda's eyebrows rose. "You're staying here with Jarrett. As my guest until such time as you can be married."

  Guest? Tressa kept her anger closely guarded. She was no guest and they all knew the truth of it. "Jarrett?" She appealed to her only ally. "We should go. No one knows Hutton's Bridge better than I do. I m
ust be allowed to help."

  His dark brown eyes were sad. "No, I think Jacinda is right. You saw as well as I did what lurked in the village. I don't want to risk anything happening to you."

  Tressa wanted to yell, stomp, scream, but she knew the last word had been given. There would be no changing their minds. Resigned, she sat down in the nearest chair, sinking into the silken finery, her heart aching.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  This was worse than any day Tressa had spent in Hutton's Bridge, hidden in the magical fog. She could have left of her own volition, even though she believed it likely meant death. Here, the exit was blocked by three guards who stood sentry outside her doors all day and all night.

  She knew because she'd periodically tried leaving. Once in the morning after Jacinda and Jarrett had left her there. Not long after eating her supper. And again in the middle of the night when she'd woken from an unremembered nightmare. It had left her in a cold sweat, panic racing through her veins, but she couldn't recall even a moment of the horror that had forced her from sleep. Something joyous had been ripped away from her, but that was all she knew. No matter how hard she tried to remember, the details slipped away.

  In a panic, she'd rushed the door, flinging the heavy gold-plated door open, only to see three very wide-awake guards standing outside her room, their arms crossed over their naked chests, their muscular legs stemming from short skirts. Sandals bound to their ready feet. Instead of charging them, she slunk backward into the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

  What was the point in fighting? They'd only overpower her. Leo had taught her to walk away from a fight she couldn't win.

  Tressa had snuggled into the pillows, pulling the silken sheet up to her chin, letting it catch the silent tears that streamed down her cheeks.

  She'd never felt so alone. Even Jarrett hadn't come back. She'd assumed he'd join her at night to keep up the guise of their relationship. Instead the night only greeted her with a dark silence, the sky pinpointed with starlight.