by Megg Jensen
“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 onto 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?"
The two must have bonded after Bastian left to claim the throne. They seemed even more playful than before. It reminded Bastian of how he'd played with Farah. Yet another person he loved and had lost. If the villagers were gone from Hutton's Bridge, then his daughter was too. He had to find her. Frustration welled up in him. He'd spent all his time since leaving Hutton's Bridge trying to secure their safety. If he, Connor, and Tressa had stayed put, had accepted Udor's new declaration that no one was forced to leave the fog, then they would all still be safe at home.
If only he wouldn't have let his love and concern for Tressa overwhelm his good sense. He couldn't bear to watch her walk into the fog and to her death. No, he'd chosen to go with her. Die together. It was a noble and honorable act. One that she'd repeatedly scorned by leaving him every time she got the chance.
He huffed and refocused on his mission. He had to find Connor so they could circle above the land and look for the villagers. They couldn't be hard to miss. A group of a couple hundred trekking wearily across the forest. He'd told them only death awaited them at Ashoom. It was no surprise they'd chosen to leave Hutton’s Bridge in a different direction.
What was shocking was that Udor and Carrac, and some of the older people hadn't stayed. Why had they all left so quickly? Had someone seen Bastian get captured? And what had happened to the rest of his men?
The little dragon danced around Elinor and Bastian's feet. She grabbed the bottom of Elinor's skirt and tugged on it, dragging her further inside. There they found Connor, curled up in one of the side chambers. He'd nestled into a pile of straw, covering his naked body.
Bastian laid a hand over Elinor's eyes, but she slapped it away. "I'm a healer. I've seen plenty of naked men before." She looked up at Bastian, a twinkle in her eye. "Even you. Who do you think got you dressed after I healed you?"
It hadn't occurred to him when Elinor helped him escape from Ashoom days ago. The bloodstained, battle-worn clothes he'd been wearing were gone. Bastian eyed Elinor, but didn't ask any further questions.
He turned his attention back to Connor. His chest moved up and down in the quiet rhythm of a deep sleep.
"He must be exhausted. He was flying back and forth all night with the eggs. I waited until he took Fotia and that's when I set out on foot for the castle."
Bastian cocked his head. "You must be tired too. Did you get any sleep?"
"A little here and there." Elinor smiled. "Not a full night, but enough."
"Why don't you go take a nap and when Connor awakens, we'll wake you too? I need you both at your best if we're to go on a search and rescue mission."
"Are you sure? If we wake up Connor now, he'll probably be able to fly for a bit."
"No," Bastian said. "I need him at full strength. And, trust me, you don't know Connor like I do. He may seem like a good, sweet guy but when he's overtired he can be a real bastard." Bastian patted Elinor's shoulder. "Go. I'll send someone for you when he's ready."
Elinor gave Bastian a little wave and patted Fotia on the head. "Thank you."
After she left, Bastian sank to the rocky floor, wrapping his arms around one bent leg. "I guess it's just you and me, Fotia." The little dragon hissed and puffed a burst of smoke from her nose. Bastian laughed and settled in for the morning.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A while later, a nearby crunching noise woke Bastian. He shook his head, completely unaware he'd fallen asleep. He looked down. Fotia's head was nestled in his lap, her little mouth open, tongue lolled to the side. Bastian smiled. He couldn't help it. The little blue dragon was cute.
He slid out from underneath her, laying her head carefully on the ground. He crept over to the chamber where Connor had been sleeping. His friend was awake, his head cradled in his hands.
Bastian kept his eyes high, giving Connor his privacy. "We should keep a change of clothes down here for you."
"That would come in handy."
"Headache?" Bastian asked.
Connor looked up. "Yeah. Feels like something's crushing it. Do you suppose it might explo
de?"
Bastian laughed. "Never seen it happen before, so I doubt it."
"Neither of us has any experience with this dragon changing phenomenon. Maybe my head will explode and turn into something else."
"I certainly hope not," Bastian said. "I'm having enough trouble getting used to you as a dragon."
"It's not easy for me either," Connor said with a drop of his head. "Even though I don't remember anything before Stacia brought me back from death, or near death, deep down I know this life isn't mine. Things are missing. Important things. My wife. My sons. You spoke of them, but I have no recollection of them. Nor do I have any feelings toward them. That's not right."
It wasn't. Yet in a way, Bastian envied him. If only he could forget all those feelings for Tressa that were causing him so much trouble. "If I knew how to bring your memory back, I would. If I knew how to change you back to the man I knew, I'd do it," Bastian said.
Connor held up a hand. "I don't want to go back."
"But if you could remember – "
"Bastian, stop." Connor said. "If I am the man you say I am, then you know I wouldn't want to lose this." His arms spread wide, gesturing at all the chambers surrounding them. "I would take responsibility for the eggs and Fotia. This is what I do. This is who I am, whether or not I remember my past."
Bastian wanted to give a well-phrased retort. But Connor was right. He would want to make sure everyone was safe. It was ingrained in his personality. He cared for everyone, large or small.
"Then let me give you a chance to show you still care for those in your past. The healers sent someone out to investigate Hutton's Bridge. There's no one left in the village. Your wife and sons. My daughter. The others who lived with us in peace, they are all missing."
Connor's eyebrows rose. "That is curious. Did they say anything about which direction they'd gone? Why the mass exile?"
"No, there was no evidence."
"Strange."
"I know. I was hoping you'd agree to change into your dragon form and fly Elinor and me around. See if we can find them." Bastian kept it short and simple. No appeals about Connor's boys or wife. He wouldn't pressure his friend.
Connor strolled past the chambers, each housing an egg. He didn't seem to mind his nakedness, so Bastian pretended like his friend was fully clothed and followed him through the cave tunnel. Connor paused at each egg, laying a hand on the rough blue eggshells.
"You said only one is yours," Bastian said. "Who do the rest belong to?"
Connor sighed. "Other men Stacia took. By what means, I don't know. They were all dead by the time I came around. Each one of their bodies was wrapped around an egg. That might have been my fate, too, if Tressa hadn't killed Stacia. I buried them." He pointed to a mound in the back of the cave.
Bastian shuddered. Twelve eggs left. One was Connor's. The rest of the fathers had been sacrificed for Stacia's new army. Bastian's gut turned. She had told him he wasn't worthy, but later said she might consider him. If she’d followed through on that threat, he might have been the one to find Connor and been forced to bury his best friend.
Connor spun and faced Bastian. "We will fly out to find the villagers, but then I must return here. There is no one else to care for the eggs. I will meet you and Elinor in the throne room soon."
Bastian clapped Connor on the shoulder. "We'll be there. Thank you."
Connor turned back to Fotia and sank to the ground, whispering in her ear.
Bastian made his way back up to the castle proper. He paused outside the throne room. "Can you send someone to fetch Elinor?" he asked one of the healers. Or guards. Whatever they were.
The man ignored him, looking straight through Bastian.
"Did you hear me?" Bastian asked again, the anger boiling. He'd sworn not to erupt at these men. They were there to protect him, after all, but their disregard was baffling. He clenched his fists at his sides, forcing himself not to grab the man by the collar and throw him up against the wall. Instead, he turned to the second guard. "Can you please fetch Elinor?"
That man blinked twice. Other than that, not even an acknowledgment.
Bastian was about to scream at them when he heard someone approaching from behind. He whirled around. Elinor scurried down the hall, her black cape flapping behind her. She wore a blue gown and her muddied black boots.
"Are we ready to go? Did Connor agree?" she asked, breathless. "Sorry, it's a bit of a hike from the castle to my rooms at the Healer's Guild. I ran most of the way."
"How did you know I was just starting to look for you?" Bastian asked, escorting her into the throne room. He closed the doors behind him, giving the two guards a nasty look. Not that they saw him, or would have even acknowledged him if they did.
"I didn't," Elinor said. "I took a nap. I woke up. I came back. I'd rather be here with you than back at the guild. I feel like I have a purpose now." She wrung her hands together, her ivory cheeks pink. "I always knew I'd be a healer, but now, there's more. There's a reason. I saved you and look what it led to. It was the best decision I've made."
Bastian smiled. He couldn't help it. She was the sweetest woman he'd met. Her emotional honesty was refreshing.
"Connor said he'd meet us up here as soon as he was ready." Bastian put a hand on Elinor's shoulder. "Are you nervous about flying?"
Elinor gulped. "A little. Partly scared witless and another part is more excited than I've ever been about anything before." She slipped her hand into Bastian's. "But if you survived the ride here, then I won't die."
"Probably," Bastian said with a shrug.
Her eyes grew wide. "Probably?"
"I'm teasing you." Bastian chuckled. "You'll be fine. But we have one important thing to decide before Connor gets here. Do you want to ride in front of me with my arms around you or do you want to ride behind me with your arms around me?"
Elinor tapped her chin. "I don't know. Which is safer?"
"Why don't you ride in front of me?" Bastian asked. "That way you can see everything. If you're behind me, I'll block the view."
Elinor gulped again. Before she could protest, Connor flew in the window at the other end of the room. He landed gracefully on the floor and bent on one knee.
"Ready?" Bastian asked Elinor, tugging on her hand.
She nodded.
"It will be amazing, I promise. We'll find the villagers, learn what their plan is, collect my daughter, Connor’s boys and Hazel, and then we'll come right back to the castle."
Bastian helped Elinor climb up Connor's leg and onto his back. Bastian hoped it really would be that simple. He'd already gone through so much. What else could happen?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Three women burst into Tressa's chambers, their arms overflowing with colorful bolts of fabric, spilling over their arms, dripping to the floor like a jewel-laden waterfall.
"You're to be married tonight, my lady," the first woman said. She swooped to the pillows, sitting next to Tressa, and thrusting silken samples into Tressa's hands. Her long black hair, braided and speckled with beads of every color, set off her mocha skin. "Which do you prefer?"
"Married tonight?" Tressa's hand flew to her mouth. He'd done it. Jarrett had come through just like he’d promised.
"Yes, my lady. Your betrothed has commanded it. I am the royal dressmaker, Adara." She pointed to the two pale women who stood quietly in the corner. "They are my assistants. I will measure you and have a gown made in time for the ceremony."
Tressa felt overwhelmed by the choices. "I don't know." She trailed her fingers over the fabric in her lap. In Hutton's Bridge, they wore their normal clothes when married. Many women were in maternity outfits by then since a wedding was only held once a woman was pregnant. It felt so strange to make a gown specifically for a ceremony.
The silk slid through her fingers like water. It was fine and soft, not at all what she'd need once she was Jarrett's wife and allowed to leave the Sands. She wanted something that she could travel in. Something that would
move in battle and hide daggers in its folds. A fabric that could be soiled and wouldn't tear at the slightest injury.
"The choice is yours," Adara said, "but if I may make a suggestion." She rummaged through the pile and pulled out a fabric of burnt orange. "This would compliment your eyes and your hair."
It reminded Tressa of the sunset she'd seen the night she spent with Jarrett in the tent in the middle of the desert. He'd always been a complete gentleman with her, despite making it clear how he felt. Her heart ached a bit. Confused. Torn. In Hutton's Bridge, only Bastian had made sense. Outside the fog, her feelings were less clear.
"It's gorgeous," Tressa admitted. It might even wear better due to its dark color. "Can you sew some hidden pockets into it?"
Adara looked at Tressa out of the corner of her eye. "What sort of pockets? For what use?"
Tressa held her breath for a moment, unsure how to respond. She couldn't just tell the woman her plans, but she hadn't thought of a good excuse first.
Adara waved to the two girls in the corner. "Leave the fabrics here. I will call you when I need you. It's time to measure Tressa and I’m sure she would like to maintain her modesty."
The two young girls nodded and filed out of the room quietly, closing the door behind them.
Adara grabbed Tressa's hands. "Is it true you're from Hutton's Bridge? And is it true you defeated the blue dragon? You must be a great warrior."
A blush colored Tressa's cheeks. "It is true, but I don't think of myself as a warrior. I'm just a girl doing what she has to do."
"Don't be so shy." Adara waved a long, graceful hand in the air. "Now, I am not only the royal dressmaker. I also construct the elaborate uniforms worn by the elite assassins in the queen's guard. I design coats and shirts and pants with hidden pockets for every kind of weapon." She winked at Tressa. "It sounds to me like a woman such as yourself would also need such an outfit. Am I right?"
