by Megg Jensen
In the morning, Tressa broke her fast with an assortment of fruit brought in by a silent servant, some she could now name, like pineapple and kiwi. Others tempted her with luscious juice and brilliant colors. She hadn't even seen some of the colors before and marveled at how strange and beautiful the world outside of Hutton's Bridge could be.
When the door opened, she didn't jump to her feet to thank the intruder for the visit. Instead, she glanced up with an uninterested eye. Jarrett stood in the doorway, his eyes weary. Bags punctuated his lower eyelids, dark as the night and heavy as Tressa's heart.
"I'm sorry I didn't come last night. There was business to be tended to." Jarrett shut the door behind him and sank down next to her.
"It's kind of you to visit me in my cell." Tressa refused to give him any thanks. If he held so much sway, he should have been able to buy her some freedom. What good was being his supposed betrothed if she was only to be kept prisoner in Risos? They might as well have told everyone the truth — that she was only a friend and he was helping her.
A stab in her heart reminded Tressa there was another reason she was angry with Jarrett. They'd been separate for days. She wanted to see him. Spend time with him.
Jarrett sighed and scratched his goatee. "I am truly sorry about this. Jacinda is behaving poorly, but she is the ruler here. There is little I can do to set you free."
"You have plenty of freedom." Tressa tossed a kiwi slice on the platter. "I seem to remember you lecturing Henry about how to treat a woman, how his mother would be disappointed in him for attempting to assault me. If she's so keen on women and how they're treated, then why am I being treated as a criminal?"
Jarrett laughed. "If you think this is where the criminals are kept, then you need to learn more about Jacinda."
Tressa scowled and pursed her lips. She'd done little more than sit around for days, waiting for him to arrive. She picked up the kiwi again and popped it into her mouth. "I was kept in here, a virtual prisoner. I'm not a criminal, and yet I was treated as one under house arrest." She wanted to anger Jarrett. She wanted to hurt him for bringing her to the Sands and subjecting her to this. Surely there could have been another place to go to ask for help. Not everyone in the Dragonlands could be evil.
Jarrett unballed his fists and wiped his hands on a cloth napkin, getting the dredges of strawberry out from between his fingers. "I didn't have any other options. The Blue has been dismantled. It's likely pure chaos in the Drowned Country now. North to Malum? Absolutely not. Northwest to the Meadowlands? Those people have never picked up a weapon in their lives. They simply ignore all war, and they equally eschew all pleas for help. They are neutral at best, uncaring at worst."
"There's another, isn't there?" Tressa asked. "The Charred Barrens where the Black Throne resides?"
Jarrett made a strange gesture with his hand, his first two fingers fanned into a V. He held them in front of his lips for a moment. "We do not speak of the Ruins of Ebon."
"Why not?" Tressa asked, eating more fruit. Her hunger couldn't be slaked. As her irritation with him abated, her appetite grew.
"It is an evil land, one where death reigns. To enter the Charred Barrens is to die."
"If Jacinda won't help us, we should leave. We're wasting time, Jarrett. My people are out there somewhere and I need to find them." She placed a hand on his arm and squeezed. "Please."
"Don't you think I know that?" He exploded. "I don't know any other way to protect you. Calling you my promised saved your arse. If Jacinda thought for a second that I didn't love you..."
"She'd kill me, wouldn't she?" Tressa asked, sure she knew the answer.
"I still feel like you're in danger. If we were already married, then perhaps Jacinda would give us what we wanted. A few men to investigate the whereabouts of your people. Freedom."
Tressa's anger abated a bit. Marrying Jarrett out of convenience would be a good solution if it truly meant her freedom. If they both understood up front it was only a formality, then it might work. She had feelings of some kind for him. Something stirred deep inside and she did feel a modicum of jealousy when he was around Jacinda. But that wasn't enough to marry a man. Yet, if it could help her find her people and restore some normality, she might consider it. "Would you do that for me? And after I left, could you somehow repudiate me? I don't want you to be tied to me forever. I'd hate to ruin your life like that."
Jarrett sank back down to his knees in front of her. "Tressa, I have lived all over the Sands. I have met and been with many women. There isn't one I would rather marry than you." He leaned over, kissing her on the lips.
She gasped, then returned the kiss with a fervor she hadn’t known existed. Tressa's fingers lost themselves on the back of Jarrett's neck. His lips pushed into hers, insistent. Hers responded with deep longing, her tongue inviting him to taste her. Jarrett rested his hand on her hips, his thumbs dangerously close to a place she'd kept only for Bastian.
Bastian!
Tressa jerked back. "I'm sorry. I just..." She licked her lips, a blush spreading from her neck up to her cheeks.
"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." Jarrett backed away a few steps. "You don't think of me that way. I already knew that. I won't take advantage of you."
She held out a hand to him, her fingers shaking. "It's not that I don't think of you like that...I just...I feel like there's other things left unsaid. I shouldn't be doing this with you when there's another who thinks I'm waiting for him."
Jarrett nodded. "I understand." He smiled. "It's just another thing I love about you. Your unerring loyalty. I should go. There are plans to be made. Are you truly willing to go along with the wedding?"
"Yes, as long as you understand I cannot truly make any promises to you. Not yet."
His smile was tempered by reality. "Of course. And you know I won't ever make you do anything you don't want to do."
Jarrett winked, then exited the room, leaving Tressa's chest heaving for air. What had she almost done?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bastian sat on the throne he'd righted the day before. He'd spent most of the day cleaning up the mess Tressa and Jarrett had made fighting Stacia. Nothing was where it should have been. The throne was upside down behind the door. Cups and plates, along with flung food and spilled wine, were scattered across the floor. Chairs that once held dignitaries and guests were upended. He couldn't believe they'd just left it this way. Yes, the dragon bodies of Stacia and Henry were gone, cleaned up by the Black Guard likely, but had no one cared enough to restore the room to its proper glory? Where were the workers? Someone had to be in control of it.
No one had reported back on Hutton's Bridge or Tressa and the only time he'd seen another person was when a cloaked man brought his dinner and another a meal to break his fast that morning. Neither had spoken to him, or so much as looked at him.
A knock at the door surprised him. "Enter," he called, trying to sound official.
The doors flung open. "Bastian!" The stomp of Elinor’s boots echoed in the throne room as she ran toward him and flung herself into his arms.
He held onto her and spun her around, so happy to see someone other than the silent black robed healers outside his door. He put her down, and her cheeks flushed pink.
"I'm sorry." She smoothed out her dress and took a couple of steps back. She looked up at him through fluttered eyelashes. "I was just so happy to see you safe."
"Safe," he asked. "Why wouldn't I be safe?”
She rubbed her hands together. "When Connor came back to the cave and was taking the eggs one by one to the castle, I was worried for your safety. All alone here with just a few wimpy healers. What if the Black Guard had revolted? What if the townspeople stormed the castle?"
Bastian's eyebrows furrowed. "The men in the Black Guard were annoyed and left once they saw Connor. They haven't been back. And why would the townspeople revolt?"
"I don't know. I was just concerned." Elinor shrugged, the blush spreading deeper. "Silly
, I know. I always get worried about my patients." She surveyed the room. "I thought everything was destroyed after the battle."
Bastian shrugged. "Not destroyed, but definitely a mess. I tried to clean it up. There was nothing else for me to do other than sit and wait."
"Any news about Tressa or Hutton's Bridge?" Elinor asked as she strolled around the room, her hands behind her back.
Bastian admired her sure, steady gait, as if she owned the world. Few women had that kind of confidence where he came from. Few, except Tressa. She was the only girl who'd ever been worth fighting for – even though she never needed his help.
"No news," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm hoping someone comes soon with a message. I asked yesterday afternoon and one of your healer friends ran off. I thought that meant they were going to look into it."
Elinor sighed and ran her fingers through her blond ringlets. "Sometimes my colleagues can be a bit narrow. If they assume Tressa is well, they may not worry about her as much, as, say the dragon eggs."
"But I'm their new leader, and I care about Tressa."
"You love her," Elinor said, her voice soft.
"I do," Bastian said.
She laid a tiny hand on his arm. "But they don't love her. Healers don't love the same way everyone else does."
Bastian tilted his head. "I don't understand. You're just like me, aren't you?"
"In flesh and bone, yes." She took her hand away, leaving a warmth in her wake. "But we are unlike you in so many ways. I was chosen at birth to be a healer. My life is not the same as yours."
Bastian laughed. "I grew up in a town surrounded by a magical fog. My childhood wasn't like that of anyone else here."
Elinor's eyes darkened. She looked toward the door, then back at Bastian, her voice lowered. "There are...things...that others do not know about the healers."
"I suspect that's true considering your healing magic only renews once every moon."
"That is true, and it's only one grain in a beach filled with countless layers of sand." Elinor grabbed Bastian's hand and tugged.
He followed, stumbling over his feet as she took off in a run toward a chaise on the far end of the room, closest to the window where Connor had taken flight the day before.
"I think we can trust my fellow healers."
"Think?" Bastian asked, concerned. His eyes darted toward the door and back to Elinor again. Her hand shook in his, so he reached for her other hand. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."
She looked up at him, her blue eyes so big and trusting. "Can I? I barely know you, but something inside me whispers, telling me that you can hear my secrets and never breathe a word of them to anyone else."
"Of course, Elinor. What is it?" His curiosity was definitely piqued. What secrets could she be hiding about the healers that were so bad she couldn't let anyone else hear?
Elinor pulled his hand to her chest. "Do you feel my heart? It's pounding."
He could feel her heart and the swell of her breast just below. He thought of Fotia, the little dragon, and of his dead wife Vinya, anything other than how badly he wanted to let his thumb dip just a tiny bit farther south.
Bastian pulled away and took Elinor's face in his hands. "What is it?" He gazed into her eyes, noticing the curve of her lips and the one small tear that threatened to spill over her light blond lashes.
The doors burst open. Bastian dropped his hands and Elinor sniffled and wiped away the tear.
"What is it?" he asked the intruder, angrier than he'd intended.
"We have word of Hutton's Bridge, and you're not going to like it," the man in the black hooded cloak said.
“Yes?” Bastian prompted him, tired of waiting for answers. Everything was a damn mystery.
“The village is empty, sir. No one remains.” The man lifted his hands into the air. “We were prepared to bring villagers here and heal them, but it appears they’ve all left.”
Bastian rubbed his temples, dreading the answer to the next question. “Tressa and Jarrett, did you find them?”
“No,” the healer said, shaking his head, “but we believe based on tracks that they left for the Sands.”
“Together?” Bastian asked, trying to hold his anger back. “Did they leave together or did one set of tracks head back here?” He wanted the answer to be two different sets of tracks headed in opposite directions. He wanted to believe Tressa was on her way back to him and not forging ahead with that other man.
“There were tracks for two horses, sir, both headed toward the northwest.”
“That will be all. Leave us,” Bastian said. Inside, he was aching, torn apart with the knowledge Tressa had left him again.
Bastian didn’t watch the man leave. Only the thud of the doors closing tight told him that he was alone with Elinor again.
“I’m sure she had a good reason,” Elinor told him quietly.
“She can’t even be bothered to send me a message, can she?” Bastian’s heart thumped in his chest. Anger roiled inside him like a storm on the verge of shooting out thousands of lightning bolts. “One little pigeon, that’s all it would take. Just to tell me why she keeps leaving.”
“I don’t understand it,” Elinor said. “If you loved me, nothing could keep me away from you.”
Bastian looked at the girl, no woman, standing in front of him. She said she’d meet him at the castle as soon as Connor had gotten all of the eggs. She’d saved his life and taken him to safety. She’d given him a throne. More importantly, she followed through on every one of her promises.
He was attracted to Elinor, there was no question about that. But he’d promised Tressa they’d be together. Everything he’d done was for her. Until he knew for sure she’d left him, he’d have to hold back any attraction. He couldn’t give up on her now.
Bastian turned to Elinor. “I know you were about to tell me something about your childhood with the healers. Can it wait?” He took a deep breath and let it out. “The people of Hutton’s Bridge are missing and we need to find them. If Connor will agree, I’ll fly with them to search for any sign of the villagers. I didn’t take down the fog and save their asses only to have them all disappear.”
“Can I come with you?” Elinor asked. “You never know if you’ll need a healer.”
He took her hand in his and he was reminded how soft it was. “Yes. I may need you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Water dripped on their heads, wetting the stone walkway beneath their feet in the tunnels under Ashoom. It smelled like the bottom of a dank pond and was rife with insects. Bastian swatted one from his face and blew another away from his lips.
"Do you think we're close?" he asked Elinor.
She tiptoed behind him, despite wearing boots that were perfect for the ripe environment. "I hope so. Are you sure this is the right way?"
Bastian laughed. "Connor had told me where the entrance to the caves underground was. Have you noticed any turns we missed?"
"No..." Elinor's voice trailed off. "This is creepy."
"Did you expect a dragon's lair to be decorated with bows and glitter?"
She punched his arm. "Shush."
They trudged along for a few more breaths in relative silence. Bastian wondered if the scratching of mice on the ground was scaring her. Better not to bring it up in case she hadn't noticed. Women could be sensitive about little things like that, even though there was nothing to fear.
A tickle on Bastian's leg drew his attention downward. He stopped and bent over. A spider, almost as large as his hand, had settled on his calf.
"Get it off," he yelled, shaking his leg. It didn't budge and even seemed to look up at Bastian as if it wondered why he was so shaken. He bent over, grabbed a few pebbles from the floor, and threw them at his leg, wishing desperately he was outside and could grab a stick. There was no way he was touching it.
Elinor laughed. "It's just a wolf spider. It won't hurt you." She bent over and placed her hand next to the spider. It skittered ont
o her palm. "There, you poor thing. I'm sorry the big man was trying to hurt you." Elinor ran her fingers over the spider's hairy body.
"It just surprised me, that's all," Bastian said. "Plus, I wasn't sure if it was poisonous. I didn't come this far to die from a spider bite."
Elinor laughed again. "You can't die. Not from that, at least."
He looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean I can't die?"
Elinor's smile faded. "Nothing. I misspoke. What I mean was, I'm here to heal you if anything happens, so of course, you won't die." Her smile came back in the form of a smirk. "You can count on me to protect you, Bastian."
He wasn't sure how to respond. One moment she was sweet and endearing and the next he wanted to box her ears like his mother had done to him when he talked back as a child. "I'm sure we'll both be fine if we protect each other." He made sure to emphasize the end of the sentence, letting her know he intended on watching her back too. He just hoped there weren't any gigantic spiders on it.
"Let's keep moving," he said.
Elinor kissed the spider while Bastian shuddered. Then she set it down on the ground. "Go that way, little guy." She shooed him in the direction they'd come from.
A handful of steps later, they stood at the entrance to a cavern. Bastian’s candle illuminated the chamber, sparkling in pinks and yellows as the light bounced off the stalactites hanging from the ceiling.
Thirteen smaller niches punctuated the chamber. All but one contained an egg — the same eggs from Connor’s cave in the woods.
"Connor? Fotia?" Elinor called. Her voice echoed.
Bastian took another step in and then another. He was greeted by a high-pitched squeal and a nip at his ankles. "Fotia!" He leaned over and laid a hand on the little dragon's scaly head. He had to admit, he’d missed her. She'd grown on him, reminding him of his own daughter, Farah, in a strange dragon way. "Where's Connor?"
Fotia pranced over to Elinor, the little dragon's forked tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. She slobbered and rubbed her head into Elinor's legs. Elinor dropped to a squat and cooed at Fotia. "Where's your daddy?"
