by Megg Jensen
She stared at him, her mouth gaping. Back erect, muscles flexed, and confidence in his face had changed Henry from a petulant boy to a young man.
"I'm embarrassed about my behavior during the tournament. I would have much preferred taking a few heads myself. Unfortunately, I wasn't feeling myself that day."
It was as if his voice had deepened overnight as well. It wasn't just the dragon that was changing him. He was rapidly becoming a man.
"How do we explain this?" Tressa pointed a thumb at Henry. "Until now he was a simpering fool."
It was Henry's turn to drop his jaw. "Was I that bad?" He looked at Jarrett, who shrugged, a smile on his face. Henry turned back to Tressa. "Maybe you can teach me a bit about being a man, seeing as you're so good at pretending to do it."
She looked at him again. Suddenly she felt she was the out of place soldier. Henry's miraculous recovery from his illness was going to make her stand out even more.
"She's going to help us, Henry." Jarrett placed a hand on Henry's arm. "Don't."
"I was only kidding," he said, winking again. It was a gesture Tressa was starting to hate. "You know that, right Max?"
She nodded. They were close to Stacia's chambers. He'd gotten the last word. It wasn't over though. She needed Henry and Jarrett to make her plan work. They needed her help because during Henry's moments of weakness Jarrett needed an ally.
"What's going on?" Jarrett asked Kelton at the door.
"A barrier has been breached," Kelton said. "She's furious. Pacing. Stomping. Screaming about war and blood and honey. Isn't that the oddest thing? Honey?"
A pit fell in Tressa's stomach. Honey. Hutton's Bridge had been famous for its honey before the fog. The barrier that kept them from the rest of the Drowned Country.
Her hands started to shake. Her people should be safe, still nestled within the fog that had trapped them for eighty years.
She felt cool steel. A sword. Jarrett had shoved it into her hands, giving them something to do other than tremble. She would thank him later. Now she gripped it tight, letting the hardness toughen up her fears.
"What does she need us to do?" Jarrett asked. "Is there an imminent danger?"
Kelton shook his head. "No. We ride out as soon as the horses are ready. We have a battle ahead of us, men."
Henry slapped his fist to his chest. "Finally, a real fight. I can't wait to smell blood." His tongue slipped out and ran over his lips.
Kelton raised an eyebrow. "You're feeling better, boy."
"Yes, I am. I feel like conquering the world. This is a great place to start." Henry slung an arm around Kelton’s shoulder. They walked into Stacia's antechamber together.
Tressa watched them saunter away. As soon as they were out of earshot, she leaned over and whispered to Jarrett. "You trust Henry?"
Jarrett wouldn't meet her eyes. Instead, he kept his focus on Henry's retreating form. "I have to.” He lowered his voice. “The truth?”
Tressa nodded. Finally she’d learn the whole story.
“My queen of the Yellow Throne demands her second son take the Blue Throne from Stacia or be banished forever without water or a camel. I am his only guard. My life is his."
Then hers was too. He knew her secret and could expose her at any moment. "Let's get this skirmish settled and then we strike the queen."
"Agreed." Jarrett drew his own sword. "The boy should be able to control his form soon. He will be ready to rule as soon as he does."
Tressa felt there were more qualifications for being a ruler than turning into a dragon, but it wasn't time to argue. She had to know who they were marching against and why.
Tressa and Jarrett followed the men into Stacia's chambers. She sat in her throne, one blue leather clad leg hanging over the arm, a spike-heeled boot swinging in the air.
"Close the door!" She shouted to Tressa. "I don't need anyone else hearing this. No need to cause a panic just yet."
The door slammed shut with a thud. Tressa turned around. She had a feeling she might need some extra support.
Kelton bowed at Stacia's feet. "How can we serve you, my queen?"
Stacia's blue eyes narrowed. She gazed at each of them in turn, as if she were weighing their very souls. Tressa forced herself to breathe normally. In. Out. Evenly. She would let nothing give her away. Stacia's eyes lingered longest, not on Tressa, but on Jarrett. The side of her mouth curved up.
"Each of you has sworn to protect me. For many years now we've lived in peace in the Drowned Country, thanks to the fog surrounding the ghost town of Hutton's Bridge. It has made it very difficult for our enemies to travel the roads to our kingdom. They can only land at our ports, which are heavily guarded by my personal army."
Stacia waved a hand in the air, her long fingernails tearing through the smoke created by the cinnamon incense burning next to her throne.
"Everyone here knows how important it is to maintain the boundary of fog. No one passes through it and lives."
Tressa swore Stacia's eyes blinked a few times too many. They both knew some had emerged and survived. Stacia killed one and she didn't know about Tressa's father's encampment. If Stacia wasn't willing to tell even her elite guard about it, then Tressa had hope they could still succeed.
"But today something has changed. The fog has fallen."
A lump of air caught in Tressa's throat. She held her lips tight, refusing to let out the surprise. She had so many questions, too many to ask without looking suspicious. Her heart raced, but she continued practicing the breathing Leo had taught her.
"I need half of you to ride out with the army. Kill anyone who emerges."
"But, your highness, there's no one to kill. The town of Hutton's Bridge only has ghosts for residents. No one could survive in the fog," Edgar said.
Stacia rolled her eyes. "I do not fear ghosts. Nor should you. You must protect our borders from the other kingdoms. One of them did this, found a way past the boundary. Ride out. Gather intelligence. Kill anyone who puts up a fight."
Five men, all wolves, stepped forward in unison. "We volunteer to lead the army into battle."
Stacia briefly bowed her head. "I accept. Your bravery will not go unnoticed."
The five men left the room. Only Tressa, Jarrett, Henry, and two others remained.
"I need the remainder of you as my private guards. I want two of you stationed outside my door every hour of the day. No one comes or goes without my express permission. You may assume we are at war. With who, I don't know. Until we have that answer, trust no one. I want one in my chambers with me at all times. Two outside my door and two to rest and then rotate in." Stacia pointed one fingernail at Jarrett. "I want you with me first. The rest of you may leave. Rotate in four hours."
Tressa opened the doors and shuffled out. Her heart was torn. She desperately wanted to ride out with the others and see if her town was safe. It was possible they'd done something to collapse the fog. Or maybe it was Bastian and her father. No matter who did it. Her people were in danger and she was stuck defending the one person she wanted to kill.
"Let Henry and I take the first rest." Tressa grabbed his sleeve and yanked. "We only got in to our beds a few minutes ago. I can't stay awake and I'm sure he's exhausted too."
Henry nodded and flashed a brilliant smile. "Too many high class whores last night. Not the nit-infested whelps you boys toyed with. See you in a few hours."
The men glared at them as Tressa and Henry walked away. She could feel their anger like a knife to the back. They walked in silence back to their chamber.
"I'm glad you're feeling better, but you don't have to be an ass about it," Tressa said.
Henry raised his eyebrows. "I'm second prince in line to the Yellow Throne. I can say what I want, when I want to. You're just a silly girl, pretending to be a boy." He reached out one hand, grabbing at her chest. "I can't even feel your boobs. You do have them, don't you?"
Tressa knocked his arm to the side. "Don't ever touch me like that again or I'll do mo
re than block you."
"I'm not afraid of a girl." Henry rolled his eyes.
"You should be afraid of this one."
"Where I come from, women are only for cooking, cleaning, and whoring. They are our servants." He looked her up and down, disgusted. "They don't chop off their hair or pretend to be men. They stay quiet and spread their legs when we tell them to. Admit it. You want me, even now." He stood tall, his hands on his hips, golden hair swinging just above his shoulders.
"The only part of me that wants to touch your crotch is my knee. Now lay down and get some sleep until we can talk to Jarrett. Stacia is without half of her guard. We may be able to finally do what we've all come here for."
Henry sat on his bed. He yanked his boots off one by one and tossed them at the edge of Tressa's bed. Without another word, he laid on the duck feather mattress.
Tressa settled down on her bed and didn't relax until she could hear Henry's signature snoring. Instead she thought about Bastian and wished there was some way she could get word to him or her father. Until Jarrett came to relieve them, there was nothing she could do.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Bastian's lips fell on Tressa's in a heated embrace. Her back arched, shivers ran up and down her spine. It had been so long, too long, since he'd wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.
Before she could open her eyes, he abruptly pulled away.
"Get off of her!"
Tressa sat up, rubbing her eyes. Henry lay sprawled on the floor and Jarrett stood over him. She shook her head, then realized what had been going on.
"If anyone had seen you kissing what they think is another man, we'd have a whole host of problems on our hands."
Tressa's cheeks turned red. "Wow, and thanks for defending me."
Jarrett glared at her. "There was nothing to defend other than our secret."
"What?" She stumbled to her feet.
"You were kissing him back. I thought you had more restraint than that, but after how you presented yourself to me at the pond, I should have known better."
Tressa shoved Jarrett. "I was dreaming. I had no idea I was kissing Henry." She rubbed her sleeve across her lips and tamped down a flare of revulsion.
Jarrett's jaw dropped. He stared at Tressa for a moment, then reared back and kicked Henry in the stomach. He bent over, but Tressa grabbed his arms and tugged him back.
"Don't," she said. "Just let it go."
"If your mother knew how you were treating an unwilling woman..." Jarrett sank down on Tressa's bed, his head in his hands.
"My mother sent me away to steal a throne," Henry said, still doubled over in pain. "I don't think she cares what I do so long as I take it and claim it for The Sands."
"Your mother would chain you in the dungeon for a month. You know it as well as I do. Learn to behave and do it now!"
Tears streamed out of Henry's eyes. "It's the dragon. It made me do it." He looked up at Tressa, his eyes pleading. "You believe me, don't you?"
She didn't know what to believe and she wasn't sure it even mattered.
"What did you learn in your time with Stacia?" Tressa asked Jarrett, interested only in moving on from the incident with Henry. He was nothing but a petulant boy. She wanted Stacia gone, but she wasn't sure Henry was the answer either. The lesser of two evils. Tressa wanted a third option.
"Not much." Jarrett tossed another annoyed glance at Henry and sat down on his bed. He ran his hand through his hair. Bangs flopped down over his eyes. "She mostly paced. Then she tried to seduce me."
Henry slid across the floor and sat at Jarrett's feet. "Tell us more."
Tressa was only mildly curious. She looked at Jarrett. Nothing gave him away. No blush. No anger. It was as if he said Stacia had offered him a prune.
"There's nothing to tell. She disrobed and ordered me to take her." Jarrett paused.
This time Tressa knew it was for drama's sake. She rolled her eyes and got up off her bed. Henry drew even closer to Jarrett, hungry for details.
"And?" Henry asked. His begging was more pathetic than Jarrett's attitude.
"And I said it was time to switch the guards. I walked out of the room and headed straight here."
Henry's face fell. "I would have done it."
"Which is why you won't be alone with Stacia anytime soon. You'd forget your mission."
"Mother didn't say I couldn't have sex with Stacia. She only said to kill her and take the throne."
Jarrett sighed. "Men must learn to utilize self control, Henry. This is the second time this week I've been in close proximity to a nude woman and managed to control myself."
Tressa dug through her trunk, looking for nothing other than a way to keep her pink cheeks hidden from them. If he told Henry, she'd never hear the end of it.
"You're a lucky man, Jarrett," Henry said.
His envy was misplaced. Jarrett's kindness. His chivalry. His prowess with a sword. Those were the things Tressa wanted Henry to admire him for.
"I choose to treat women with respect, Henry. You should give it a try once in a while."
"Anyway," Tressa said, sitting back up again once she was confident Jarrett wasn't going to tell Henry his first nude girl of the week was her, "what is our next move? I say we kill Stacia now. Before the rest of the guard gets back. There are only five of us here. The three of us," she shot a wayward glance at Henry, "can dispose of the other two. Then we can take down Stacia."
"That was my thought as well," Jarrett said. "The men left about a quarter hour ago. There's nothing standing between us and Stacia now. Take up your arms."
Tressa reached under the bed for her sword. She belted the blade around her waist and let her hand rest on the hilt. She was calm. Resolute.
Henry grabbed his sword and brandished it in the air, pretending to kill an invisible enemy. "Let me be the one to kill her."
Tressa crossed her sword with his, the screech of iron raising the hair on her arms. "No, she's mine to kill. You can have the throne. I've no use for it. But she's mine. Do you understand?"
Henry looked at Jarrett and slowly lowered his sword. "She's a feisty one, isn't she? Too bad she wasn't one of the naked girls."
Jarrett winked at Tressa. "Yes, too bad."
Tressa felt the blush return, at least this time she was already out the door and into the hallway before either Jarrett or Henry could see her reaction.
She had more important things to do. It was time to kill Stacia.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Bastian's head swam in a sea of blue and purple fists. After the fog fell, it didn't take long for the army to arrive. He'd expected that, but not so soon. Before he’d had the chance to get to the city, Stacia's entire army showed up and took him captive.
They tried to fight back, but less than fifty men against hundreds of armed, trained soldiers was futile. Bastian urged them to put down their weapons. He didn't want to lose any more men in a skirmish they couldn't win. It wasn't worth the loss of life. Each man had a friend or brother or wife who loved him the same way so many had loved Connor.
That hadn't stopped five men dressed in black from knocking Bastian out. He hoped his men were being treated better than he was. Only the sway of the horse's canter and the smell of its well-timed droppings pulled him out of his stupor. The turd shot down the pallet Bastian was tied to, landing on the top of his head and rolling down the side to his ear where it finally came to rest on his shoulder. The sweet and earthy smell invaded his senses. If it weren't for the sharp scent of waste, he might have stayed asleep, lost in a dream of reuniting with Tressa.
Instead his head bonked on the wooden pallet any time it rolled over a rock. He'd have a headache, and not just from the beating.
His hands were bound at his stomach, but his head was free to loll about. He looked to his left, the poop still resided on the right shoulder, and groaned. The forest still surrounded him, the thatched roofs of taverns, inns, and shops danced above him, their roofs mingling with
the trees. People milled in the street, taking a long gander at the man bound and dragged through town. They passed the tavern where he and Tressa had sat on their first day. Then came the town square where Connor had lost a battle he hadn't even been able to fight.
He was back where he didn't want to be. Bastian's wrists couldn't move. The rope only dug in deeper when he tried. Instead he closed his eyes and attempted to come up with a new strategy. He'd always relied on his brawn, Connor's words, and Tressa's ideas. With his own ability hampered, he missed his friends even more. Together they had power, greater than any of the magic or dragons in the world. Apart, he felt useless. What good was muscle when he was tied up and unable to fight?
After fifteen large rocks, nine deep ruts, and a slight twinge of nausea, the horse came to a halt. It excreted once more, giving Bastian's left shoulder its own companion.
Men in black uniforms with long swords stood over his pallet arguing.
"You cut him free from the pallet and Barden and I will hold him down."
"No, you cut him free. I want to have my hands on him when we present him to the queen. I'm the one who knocked him out in the first place. I deserve that honor."
"Only because you were lucky!"
"We're brothers of the Black Guard, you shouldn't be so concerned about how this makes you look."
A set of hands burst through their argument and pushed them aside. "You three are pathetic." The man, as large as Bastian, twice as wide, and as solid as a mountain jammed his foot into Bastian's crotch.
Stars swam, swallowing the world into a bright vortex of pinks and blues. He vaguely felt the ropes fall and thump on the ground. His upper arms were surrounded by the tight grip of two men. Only then did the pressure on his crotch subside. The world slowly came back into focus.
"Walk! We aren't going to drag you!"
Someone behind Bastian kicked the back of his knee, forcing his leg to bend. He stumbled, but kept his footing. One slow step followed by another and another.
