Dragonlands, Books 1 - 3: Hidden, Hunted, and Retribution

by Megg Jensen

  Tressa wanted to trust Adara. Even if she was a spy for Jacinda, she needn't suspect Tressa was going to leave. Only that Tressa wanted to be able to protect herself. Since she was soon to be under Jarrett's control and not Jacinda's, there was no reason to pretend she'd be a meek wife.

  "Yes, you are. Can you make me a gown that will hold all manner of weapons? Small ones. Like for a few daggers?" Tressa had no idea where she'd find these weapons, but hopefully Jarrett would supply her with them. "It also needs to look good belted because eventually I'll want a sword at my hip."

  "Well, this is really a gown just for your wedding. You won't wear it again." Adara spread out the fabrics, all in dark colors. An opaque ruby shift shimmered in the sunlight.

  "Not wear it again?" Tressa was confused. Who wore a gown only once? Especially one that a dressmaker went to so much trouble to make?

  Adara laughed, her cherry lips opening to reveal a mouthful of perfectly white teeth. Her almond-shaped lids were beset with brown eyes. She was a stunning woman. "Of course your wedding gown is only worn one time. Often it doesn't survive the wedding night. Jarrett will be eager to tear your dress from your body and ravish you.”

  Tressa's eyes grew wide at the thought of Jarrett's hands tearing at the neck of her dress, his lips wandering across her body. She shook her head. No, not yet. There was too much that stood between them. Her stomach lurched, a small pain traveling through her navel. Tressa sat down on the settee, sweat dripping from her brow.

  "Are you okay?" Adara put a hand on Tressa's shoulder.

  "I'm fine." Tressa sat up a little straighter, the pain fleeting.

  "A wedding gown should be beautiful. Sweeping. Unforgettable. But if you want me to make you other dresses with secrets hidden inside, I am happy to do so. I've always wanted to try that, but never had a woman I felt was worthy of such a dress." Adara nodded, her eyes solidly on Tressa. "You are different. You are the model I've been waiting for. Tonight in your bridal suite you will find three dresses I've made for you with daggers. I can see you have no weapons now."

  "Tonight?" Tressa asked, surprised. "How can you make three plus the wedding gown?"

  Adara grinned again. "I am fast." She lowered her voice. "It is also possible I have thought about this extensively and have already constructed prototypes. Stand up, now. I need your measurements."

  Tressa scrambled to her feet. Her head swam. Clearly she was still too tired from all of the excitement. She complied with all of Adara’s instructions, standing up straight with her feet together. She held her arms out to her sides.

  After a bit, Adara rolled up the strings she'd used for measuring. "This will be very good. I will have my apprentices construct your wedding gown while I tweak the other clothes." She clapped her hands together. "I'm even more excited about the warrior woman dresses than I am the wedding gown."

  Tressa couldn't hold back a smile. "I am too. I can't wait to try them on."

  Adara pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side. "One of them will be leather. Is that acceptable?"

  "I can't wait to see it," Tressa said, truly excited. Finally, things were working in her favor.

  "Someone will come back this afternoon to fit your wedding gown. Tomorrow, you try on your new dresses, and if you need anything changed, you ask for me." Adara patted Tressa's cheek. "Who knew this would be an exciting day for me as well as you?"

  "Thank you for everything," Tressa said. "I appreciate it more than you know."

  Adara smiled again and left Tressa alone. Soon she'd be able to leave and search for her people. Jarrett would secure the men they needed to venture into the wild. Everything was falling into place.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tressa stood in front of the mirror, the gossamer gown draping her body but barely concealing a thing. She hadn't realized how sheer the amber fabric was until she slipped it over her head.

  "I'm missing something," she mumbled.

  "May I speak?" the woman standing in the corner of the room said. One of Adara's assistants, she had remained silent thus far, so much so that Tressa had forgotten she was still in there.

  "Yes, please," Tressa said, smoothing the fabric over her hips. "If you know where the sheath is that goes under the dress, I'd be forever grateful." She laughed. "I certainly can't appear like this in front of everyone."

  The woman glided across the room, her feet hidden under a long expanse of silk. She almost appeared to float. She straightened Tressa's dress, helping it drape across her shoulders better. "This is the full dress. There is no sheath."

  Tressa looked in the mirror again. Her nipples peeked through the golden gossamer. "Oh no. There must be some mistake."

  "Here in the Sands, we are not ashamed of our bodies or our sexuality. When you marry, it does not signal the end of relations with the person you love. Instead, it shows everyone in attendance exactly why you have chosen one another."

  "Will Jarrett also be in something just as transparent?" Tressa asked, a blush coloring her cheeks. She'd seen him naked once before when she'd spied on the Black Guard through the bushes as they'd bathed. She hadn't shied away, instead, she'd taken a guilty moment to enjoy the view.

  The woman shook her head. "No." A smile graced her face. "Though he will wear very tight pants, leaving little to the imagination." Her hand rested on Tressa's shoulder. She stood nearly a head taller than Tressa, her face hovering above Tressa's in the mirror. "Are you afraid he will find you lacking?"

  Tressa couldn't help but notice the difference between her body and that of the woman behind her. Where the assistant was tall, Tressa was short. Where she was curvy, Tressa was straight. The woman's skin glowed, but Tressa's was covered in scratches. Even her lips were still chapped. She remembered Jarrett's insistent kisses. What did he see when he looked at her?

  "Jacinda is a beautiful woman and a queen," the woman went on, "but she has a temper that would give even the most lustful man pause. Jarrett has satisfied her for a long time. We attendants see what really goes on. She never fully satisfied Jarrett. He has been looking for a long time, and I believe he has found the one woman who can fulfill him."

  She kissed Tressa on the cheek, her full lips soft. "You will serve him well, Tressa of the Drowned Country."

  Tressa held her hands at her side, her fingers curled into fists. "May I have a few moments to myself before the ceremony?"

  The woman nodded and took her leave. It was only then Tressa realized she hadn't asked the woman her name. She shook her head and sank into a nearby settee. Her hair fell around her face, tickling her cheeks. She still wasn't used to the extensions they'd woven into her hair.

  "What have I gotten myself into?" Tressa asked out loud. All this to protect the lives of people she couldn't wait to be away from mere months ago.

  Everything had spiraled out of control. Her feelings for Bastian were still there, but slowly Jarrett was creeping in on them. She cared for him, and she hoped it wouldn't turn into anything more than strong feelings of friendship. A slight attraction and nothing more.

  A knock interrupted her thoughts. "Come in," Tressa said. She crossed her arms across her chest.

  Jarrett stepped in and quickly closed the door behind him. He avoided looking at her. Instead his eyes settled above her shoulders. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I had to come."

  "That's nice of you to check in on me." She felt exposed and wished she had a cloak to wrap around her body. All of her other promised garments were in Jarrett's quarters, waiting for her after the wedding.

  Jarrett smiled. "Did Karina tell you what happens before the wedding?"

  Tressa shook her head. "Just that I needed to get dressed." She laughed. "If you call this getting dressed. I feel a tad overexposed."

  "That type of gown is traditional. I know things are bit more conservative in the Drowned Country than they are here." Jarrett sat down on the settee, still managing to avoid looking at Tressa.

  She sat down next to him
, her legs crossed and her arms still folded over her chest. "And in Hutton's Bridge, even more so. When your village relies on sex for procreation and not love, then sex becomes a chore."

  "It's not like that here. Not at all." Jarrett's voice washed over her like a warm rain.

  He had far more experience than she did. Other than her last time with Bastian, she hadn't known what it was like to be with a man for the sake of lust.

  Jarrett rested a hand on her knee. Tingles traveled up to Tressa's chest.

  "In the Sands, a man and a woman make love just before their marriage ceremony. That's why I'm here."

  Tressa turned to look at Jarrett. His eyes were still trained on the window across the room. She wanted to answer him but wasn't sure how. She'd promised to go through with the ceremony in hopes of gaining the queen's help and favor. She'd made it clear to Jarrett that she couldn't promise anything more than friendship. Why did he continue to torture her so?

  Her heart beat erratically. A throbbing between her legs screamed at her. Tressa pushed it all aside.

  "If I didn't come to you before the ceremony, there would be talk. Jacinda would demand more answers. We must keep up the ruse," he said.

  Tressa closed her eyes. All she could see was Jarrett naked near the pond back in the Drowned Country. She forced her eyes opened and stared at the wall.

  "We'll sit here and wait until it's time to leave for the ceremony." Jarrett's hand tightened on her knee, the pressure gentle, but insistent. "But before we go out, I would like to kiss you one more time. But only if you want me to." He focused his eyes on hers.

  "That would be a good idea," Tressa heard herself say without thinking it through first. "If they're expecting us to make love before coming out, we should at least look like we've done something. Flushed cheeks. Swollen lips. It wouldn't be convincing without them."

  Jarrett leaned in slowly until Tressa could feel his breath on her face. "Are you sure?"

  Tressa laced her fingers in his hair, pulling his face to hers. She held back at first, but the chaste kiss quickly gave way to opened lips and exploring tongues. Jarrett's hand crept up her leg, coming to rest at her hip, his thumb in the curve where her abdomen met her leg. Tressa leaned in closer, her chest pressing against Jarrett's shirt.

  Jarrett's other hand rested just under her breast. He pulled back. "We should stop. I won't force you into something you don't want."

  Tressa's arms tightened around his back. She didn't want to let him go. She didn't want to stop. Instead, she let her head fall on his shoulder. She didn't have the words for him. She couldn't tell him no, but she wouldn't allow herself to tell him yes.

  He seemed to understand, wrapping his arms around her. "We'll just sit here until it's time. It won't be long now." He pointed out the window. "See, the sun is setting. It is almost time."

  Tears threatened to spill, to give away everything she was feeling. Instead she used her emotions as a dam, waiting for what seemed like ages for another knock at the door, telling them it was time for the ceremony.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  "Look, over there," Elinor shouted over her shoulder to Bastian. Her hair, whipping in the wind, slapped Bastian in the face. "There are some people!"

  Bastian squinted down through the trees. She was right. There were people in Hutton's Bridge! Those damn healers had lied to him. Bastian dug his heels into the dragon's sides. Connor began his careful descent with Bastian and Elinor holding on tight. Bastian wished there had been time to rig some kind of harness, but everything had happened so fast. Instead, he and Elinor could only clutch Connor's scales.

  Soon they were on the ground, landing in the middle of the town square. Bastian slid off Connor's back, eager to soothe the fear his townspeople must feel at the sight of another dragon landing in their village. He held out his arms to Elinor. She slipped into his embrace. He tossed her a quick smile and then let her go. While Elinor smoothed out her dress, Bastian jogged to Connor's head. "Thank you, old friend."

  Connor snorted in response.

  Bastian turned to face his people, only to realize he didn't know anyone standing in front of him. Many of them had skin darker than anyone in Hutton's Bridge, reminding him of Jarrett's foreign appearance. "Who are you?" Bastian asked.

  One man broke away from the group and headed over, his hand outstretched. "You must be the new leader at the Blue. I am Avital, head of this expedition sent by the Yellow Queen of the Sands to investigate the ghost town of Hutton's Bridge. I assume you are here for the same?"

  Bastian took the man's hand and gave it a firm shake. "The people are gone?" He didn't bother to confirm or deny his leadership position. He barely felt like a leader anyway.

  Avital shook his head. "Our own head of the guard, Jarrett, returned to Risos with his betrothed. They told us the story of the missing villagers and we were sent to investigate. Are you here for the same reason?"

  "We are." Elinor held out a hand to him. "I am Elinor of the Healers Guild of Ashoom."

  Avital bowed low, holding her hand in his. "Upon you be peace, healer."

  "You may rise," Elinor said, and the man complied.

  Bastian raised an eyebrow, but didn't say a word. He'd have to ask her about it later. He didn't realize he should have been bowing to her all the time. She was so tiny, he wasn't sure he'd be able to without falling down.

  Avital looked over at Connor, lazing in the center of town. “Our dragons have flown off to the nearest pond, over to the northeast, if your dragon would like to join them for a drink.”

  Bastian motioned to Connor. He flew off in the direction Avital had indicated.

  "Have you figured out what direction the villagers of Hutton's Bridge went?" Elinor asked, taking charge of the situation. It was just as well. Bastian felt out of his element.

  "Went?" Avital laughed. "They've all been dead for decades. No one could have survived in that fog. We're here simply to investigate." He motioned to his men fanned out around the entire village. "As you see, we've recovered nothing. It's just as well. We're anxious to get back to Risos. There's a wedding tonight, and if we can make it there tonight, there may still be some feast food for us to eat."

  "A wedding, how wonderful," Elinor said.

  Bastian's eyes followed the men walking in and out of cottages as if nothing inside mattered. It did. This was his village, his home, and his people were missing. But giving himself away wouldn't help matters. "Perhaps I'll have a look around myself," he mumbled.

  "Won't do any good," Avital said. "We've been over every inch of this ghost town. No sign of inhabitants. Nothing. It's just as we always thought. Hutton's Bridge is dead."

  Bastian shrugged and made his way over to his own cottage, looking for any indication of his daughter or any of the other villagers. He opened the door to his daughter's tiny bedroom, half expecting to see Farah sitting on her bed, swinging her chubby little legs over the edge. Instead, the bed lay disheveled covered by a moth-eaten blanket. He picked it up, bringing the cloth to his nose. Before he could take a deep inhalation, a cloud of dust assaulted him.

  Bastian threw the blanket down on the bed and spun around angrily. Everything was wrong. Someone had made it look like Hutton's Bridge was dead, but it wasn't. He knew his people had to be somewhere. They couldn't just vanish.

  He left his cottage and looked back toward Connor, who’d flown back in, his snout wet. He was lying quietly at the edge of the village, not disturbing anyone, his cobalt tail twitching back and forth.

  Elinor was deep in conversation with Avital. Her lips had lost their regular smile, and the glimmer in her eyes was gone. She ventured a quick glance at Bastian. The sadness in her eyes struck him. He hurried back to them. "Are you okay, Elinor?"

  She looked up at him. "Yes, I am. Avital here was just telling me about the wedding taking place tonight in the Sands."

  "The head of our guard, Jarrett, is marrying the mystery bride he brought back with him from Ashoom. Perhaps you know her? Tres
sa. She has long brown hair and a quick smile. Not the type of woman I predicted Jarrett would fall for, but I guess we never know until we meet someone special."

  Bastian struggled to maintain an even face. His instincts told him to grab Avital by the collar and shake information out of him. Instead, he turned to Elinor. "As friends who trade by sea, I think it would be appropriate if we flew in for this wedding, don't you, Healer Elinor?" he asked, using her formal title just as Avital had.

  "I don't know if that's a good idea, Bastian. We haven't received an invitation." She shook her head, her blond curls falling over her shoulders.

  Avital laughed. "No invitation needed. Queen Jacinda would be happy to see you there. Now that the fog is gone, it's time for the dragonlords to reconcile. Particularly now that the awful Stacia is dead. I'm happy to see the Blue has a new leader. Jacinda will be too. You should go."

  "How long will it take us to fly there?" Bastian asked Avital, ignoring Elinor's insistent tugging on his arm.

  "Most of the day, I suspect," Avital said, rubbing his goatee. "If you leave now, you should arrive just in time for the wedding."

  Bastian shook Avital's hand. "Thank you so much for letting me know. I'll tell your queen how accommodating her men are."

  They exchanged quick pleasantries. Avital gave Bastian a map with landmarks to guide them to Risos. But Bastian’s mind was already in Risos. He had to see for himself if Tressa had truly left him for Jarrett.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Connor glided with the wind, his wings outspread, and the sun glinting off his cobalt scales. Bastian and Elinor hadn't spoken since leaving Hutton’s Bridge. They'd been flying for ages with no end in sight. Underneath them sand spread out in every direction. Bastian didn't understand how anyone could live in such an unforgiving landscape. The heat alone was enough to sour the trip. The sun burned his skin and the wind only served to deepen the pain.