by Megg Jensen
Late at night when she woke up in tears, her arms wrapped around her belly, it was Jarrett who held her and dried her cheeks. He knew her deepest secrets and kept them without so much as a knowing glance.
Her illness also gave her a good reason to avoid Bastian. He'd visited her room, yes, but they hadn't spoken about their relationship, or lack thereof. She didn't even know what to say, how to explain the change in her feelings. It wasn’t as if there was one moment when she didn’t love him the way she knew she should have.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Tressa tried to sit up, but her head hurt and her stomach churned. "Come in," she said, her voice weak.
"I brought some burnt bread," Jarrett said, a tray in his hands. He kicked the door shut behind him. "Fotia was playing and hit a loaf of bread with some dragonfire. It's actually quite tasty."
Tressa offered a smile. Food wasn't her friend, though she hadn't stopped trying to eat. She couldn't live without food, so she'd keep trying until it stayed where it was supposed to. With a shaky hand, she reached out for the burnt bread. She took a small nibble and swallowed. When the nausea didn't come, she took another bite. And another.
Jarrett sat next to her on the bed. He cupped her chin in his hand and stared her in the eyes. He'd been doing a lot of that lately. "Find what you're looking for?" she asked him, her mouth filled with breadcrumbs.
Jarrett kissed the tip of her nose. "Everything I need is right here." The concerned look on his face melted into a smile. "There is someone who wants to talk to you. And I think it's time, if you're feeling up to it."
Tressa nodded. Jarrett didn't even have to tell her who it was. Bastian. "It's fine. Do you mind leaving us alone?"
"Of course not. I was going to suggest that anyway." He ran a hand over Tressa's hair. "Just don't get yourself too worked up, okay? You're not quite back to your strong self yet."
It was an understatement. Tressa had barely felt human the last few days. The burnt bread was helping though. It didn't land in her stomach like a brick the way the rest of the food had.
Jarrett left, and a few moments later Bastian entered. He hung back at the doorway. Tressa motioned him over to the bed, patting the empty spot next to her. "Come, sit."
Bastian sat so close to the edge of the mattress that the slightest bounce would knock him off. Had she hurt him so badly? Had he really not seen the end coming or even moved on himself? It had been many moons since they were last together. She'd grown and changed. Hadn't he?
Tressa reached out for his hand. She hadn't forgotten how her hand fit neatly into his. She'd always believed they were perfectly matched, the way her fingers slipped neatly between his. Comfortable. Easy. But the spark was gone. Tressa looked up at Bastian, knowing she should say something. She didn't know how to start.
Bastian looked just as grim. He squeezed her hand. "Do you remember all those times we would hold hands in secret? Knowing we weren't supposed to, but taking the chance no one would see us?"
"We never got caught," Tressa said, a smile at the corner of her lips.
"Connor was always watching out for us," Bastian said. He glanced out the window, then back at Tressa.
Tressa knew he was thinking how much Connor had changed. How much all of them had changed. "Now that we've grown up, we have to watch out for ourselves. And we've made new friends."
"Jarrett," Bastian said. His eyes narrowed and his lips went thin.
So he didn't approve. Tressa shouldn't have been surprised. "And Elinor," Tressa softly reminded him. "I hear she's saved you twice." She watched for a glimmer in his eyes. He remained slumped, a little reluctant. If he had feelings for Elinor, Tressa couldn't see it.
"She has. She's a good woman," Bastian said. "I'm not here to discuss Elinor with you."
Tressa nodded, waiting for the inevitable questions. Why? And when? She wished she knew the answers. She wouldn't lie to him to make him feel better.
"The last time we were together, in the forest with our parents, things were good between us. I wanted to ask if you're okay.” Bastian rubbed her hand with his thumb. He took a deep breath. “All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy."
Knowing Bastian, he was probably happy he'd gotten it out without too much trouble. He was never verbose and expressing his feelings wasn't easy. Tressa knew that. She'd never been one of those women to complain about her man not communicating. It came easy to some. With Bastian, it didn't.
Tressa laughed a little. "Happy? I don't know if that's a good word to describe me now. Content? Yes. Hopeful? Yes." She coughed, a burn tickling in her chest. "As for us..." The words stuck in her throat. She wanted to tell him about the miscarriage, but one look in his green eyes told her it was a bad idea.
Why burden him with the loss of yet another baby? He'd grieved along with her when she never conceived the babies they so longed for. Now she'd not only have to tell him she'd lost another, but that she suspected Granna had been the one keeping them from getting pregnant the whole time.
No, she'd hurt him enough by breaking off their relationship. This was one thing she'd keep between herself and Jarrett.
"As for us, I'm sorry." She slipped from his grasp and wrung her hands. "If we’d stayed in Hutton's Bridge, we might have found our way back to each other. But here, in this new world, we don't make as much sense as we used to."
Bastian leaned over, kissing Tressa on the cheek. "I think I can understand that. I will accept it soon enough." He leaned into her, giving her a light hug.
Whether it was because she was sick or he was too afraid to get close, Tressa didn't object. She rubbed his back and was surprised to notice it didn't spark any kind of desire in either of them. She knew Bastian well enough to gauge his reactions. The lack of one was telling on its own.
"We can still be friends, right?" he asked her.
Tressa smiled. "Of course. Once I kick this virus, I want to see the kids and Hazel. Are they going to stay here at the castle with you? There were so many children, most of them now orphans. Who will care for them?"
"Connor, Elinor, and I were going to talk about that this afternoon. Do you think you're feeling well enough to meet with us? I'd love to hear your opinion."
Tressa nodded. "I wouldn't miss it. I'll be there."
"Good," Bastian said. He stood up. "I'll send Jarrett back in. He's probably waiting right outside the door."
"It wouldn't surprise me," Tressa said. "But he promised to give us privacy, and Jarrett always keeps his word."
Bastian's hand settled on the doorknob. Then he turned back. "Is he good to you?"
"Yes," Tressa said, feeling a blush spread up her neck. "He is."
"That's all I need to know." Bastian opened the door and slipped out of the room.
Within a breath, Jarrett was back at her side. "Are you okay?" he asked, putting his arm around her shoulder.
Tressa nodded and held back a tear. She wasn’t, but there was no good in worrying him further. She didn’t know exactly what was wrong with her. Talking to Bastian felt too much like saying her goodbyes to those she had loved before she…
No. She wouldn’t think about it that way. She’d find a way to beat whatever was destroying her from the inside.
Chapter Two
Jarrett helped Tressa to her feet. The gown swirled around her ankles as she attempted to steady herself on his strong arm. "I can do this," she said through gritted teeth, even though Jarrett hadn't questioned her.
She avoided his gaze, knowing it was one of concern and worry. It hadn't left him since she'd awakened after the battle at Malum. He was always looking at her eyes, as if he was studying a strange bug. It was unnerving.
They walked down the hallway, Tressa slowly placing one slippered foot in front of the other. She focused on each step. She’d worry about the other steps when their time came.
After what seemed an interminable amount of time, they arrived at the doors to the throne room. Jarrett kicked them open with a black boot.
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The room hadn't changed since the last time Tressa had been in it. Except it was clean. And there were no dragons trying to kill her. In fact, there were no dragons at all. Familiar faces sat around a table.
Bastian. Connor. Elinor. There was another young woman Tressa didn't recognize. Her hair hung in stringy black clumps. Her bright blue eyes flashed nothing but kindness, echoed by the smile on her face.
"Tressa!" the girl exclaimed, jumping out of her chair. She rushed over and took Tressa's hand in hers, pumping it up and down. "I'm so excited we finally get to meet like this."
Tressa attempted a smile. Even that took more effort than it should have. "You're Fi, right?" She had vague recollections of the Black dragon that had spirited them out of Malum. Much of that night was lost in a haze. Her memories of that night were spotty at best. She remembered confronting her father, but beyond that it was only bits and pieces of events. Jarrett had confessed to killing her father, which she accepted. She knew her father had turned to evil and would never return. Besides, she had killed Bastian's mother. They all had to live with their actions.
"Yeah. Fi. That's me." The girl's black dress hung to the floor, hiding her feet. It was almost as if she floated in a thundercloud. Fi dropped Tressa's hand. "You're still not feeling well?"
"I'm getting better," Tressa said. It was a lie. Everyone knew. The guarded expressions on their faces spoke louder than the words from their lips.
Fi's face fell as she made her way back to her seat at the table.
Tressa let Jarrett guide her to a chair. She sank onto the pillows and attempted to sit up straight. She lasted a few breaths before giving in to a slump.
"Let us know if it's too much for you," Bastian said.
"I'm fine," Tressa snapped. "Let's start. We have a lot of important things to discuss and I've been holding everyone back because of this illness."
"I've consulted a few healers," Elinor said. "They've taken a look at you while you've slept and none of them know what's wrong."
Tressa waved a hand. "I'll be over this soon enough. No more wasted time." She set her hands on the table. "Now, what's our next move?"
All eyes were focused on her. Some sad. Some sympathetic. One pair was narrowed. Connor. Though Bastian swore Connor didn't remember his past, Tressa felt he could still read her moods better than anyone. She tore away from his gaze and focused on Bastian. "Well?"
Bastian cleared his throat. “The children are in the courtyard playing with Hazel and a couple of the healers who have volunteered to help care for them. I think we should keep them here for now. Help them acclimate to their new life without their parents.”
Tressa ventured a quick glance at Connor. He seemed only mildly interested, as if he didn’t realize, or care, that his own children’s futures were in question. Bastian was right. Connor must not remember his old life. He had loved Hazel and his children more than life itself. Perhaps he had lost more in his transformation than she’d believed.
“I think that’s a sound plan,” Elinor said. “Does anyone else have a better idea?”
No one answered. Tressa wished she had something to contribute. It took all of her energy just to keep her eyes open.
"But there is another matter to consider too. Maester Malachi stole my eggs," Connor said, a fierce frown on his face.
A sharp trill caught Tressa's attention. Over Connor's shoulder a little turquoise dragon pranced around the room. That must be Fotia. Jarrett had told her there was a baby dragon in their midst and that Connor protected her as if she were his own.
"I need to say something." Elinor stood. She wasn't very tall. Much shorter than Tressa. She wondered if Elinor had pillows placed on her chair for her to sit upon. "My father..." she said, with derision, "is a greedy man. When I first suggested the arrangement to Bastian and Connor, that the healers would stand by Bastian’s claim to the throne as long as we had leave to study the eggs, I never thought he would go so far as to take the eggs away."
"And what do you think he'll do with them?" Bastian asked.
"It doesn't matter." Connor pounded a fist on the table. "I want the eggs back. My own offspring is among that passel."
"I know, I know." Elinor’s lower lip quivered. "I never thought he'd take it this far. Did you see what they did to me?"
Tressa raised an eyebrow and looked at Jarrett. He shrugged, also lost.
"Elinor was nearly tortured to death," Bastian said, his voice soft. "One of the other healers gave her his moon to heal her. Just as she did for me once before. Luckily she didn’t have to do it again in Malum."
For the first time, Tressa noticed the bandages on his arms from where his mother had dug her claws into him. He hadn't just been careful of Tressa’s condition when he'd visited her room. He had his own injuries to worry about.
Jarrett scratched his goatee. "Fi, are you willing to stay and help us?"
Fi nodded. Tressa spied pink streaks underneath her black hair. This girl certainly was a unique creature. Tressa wondered if Fi had been born human or dragon.
"I'm happy to help in any way I can. Although..." Fi looked at Tressa. "I think there should be another option. Back in my homeland there are healers who may be able to help Tressa. We should take her there first."
Jarrett nodded. "It's a good idea. The dragons of the Black used to be well known for their healing prowess. Before they disappeared." He chuckled. "We all thought your people were dead."
Fi's smile disappeared. "That's what we wanted everyone to think. We hid. Retreated into the bowels of the earth. Ran away like frightened children. Do you know, I hadn't even seen the sky until a few days ago?"
"How did you know to come to us?" Jarrett asked, confused.
Fi slapped her hands over her mouth and mumbled something.
The others looked at each other, perplexed. "We can't understand you," Bastian said.
Fi lowered her hands and whispered, "I was sent by my great-uncle’s mate. She sees things, knows things no one else does. She said you needed help. She told me where to fly and who to look for."
"Seems too easy," Connor said, "for someone who claims they've never been outside before."
"I'm brave. That's why I was sent." Fi shrugged. She turned to Tressa. "I really think we can help you, though. I've seen this before...and I think we have a cure."
Tressa rubbed her temples. She wished she felt better. She didn't want to seek help from a bunch of dragons who were so afraid they’d hid underground for the past eighty years. At least her people in Hutton's Bridge had tried to escape the fog.
"Let Bastian, Elinor, and Connor go after the eggs," Tressa said. “I will go with Fi.
"How long will it take to heal Tressa?" Bastian asked Fi.
"It will take us less than a day to fly there." Fi counted on her fingers. "Perhaps another day or two to diagnose and heal Tressa. Then we could fly back here. Four days at the most."
Bastian ran his fingers through his hair. "I’m not sure I like this."
"We will be back as quickly as we can to help you find the eggs, Bastian. If Tressa’s illness accelerates, then what hope do we have? She must be healed first. If Elinor's friends in the Healer's Guild cannot find a solution, what other choice do we have?" Fi asked.
"Do it." Bastian stood. "We will all prepare now for what lies ahead. Elinor, Connor, come with me. We need to discuss a plan of action."
Tressa marveled at Bastian's leadership. When they were younger, he'd always been content to hang back, letting her and Connor take the reins. She wasn't the only one who'd changed since leaving Hutton's Bridge behind.
She started when Jarrett laid a hand on her arm. "Let's get you back to your chambers. Fi and I will pack a few essentials and then we'll be on our way."
Tressa nodded. She didn't have much of a choice. She had to seek out greater healing. At the moment she wasn't sure she'd live to see a new moon without it.
Chapter Three
After Jarrett helped Tressa back into bed, she
fell asleep quickly. He waited, wondering if her eyes would pop open and he'd see it again. The strange eye. Red, like a dragon’s, with a slash down the center of the iris. He hadn't seen it since the night they came back from Malum. Maybe he'd imagined it.
Jarrett left the room and locked the door behind him. It wasn't to keep Tressa in. It was to keep others out. He didn't know anyone in Ashoom, except his former mates in the Black Guard and he knew he couldn't trust them.
There was only one person he could begin to trust.
Jarrett made his way down the dark hall to a room not far away. He knocked once and then entered.
"Fi?" he asked, closing the door softly behind him.
"I'm here. Just packing." Her voice floated from the next room.
Jarrett laughed. "What could you be packing? You didn't bring anything."
"I have a little. Didn't you see the pack tied to my ankle while we were flying?"
He hadn't. He'd been too focused on Tressa as she passed in and out of consciousness.
"Just a few pieces of clothing. Not much more." She crumpled up a dress exactly like the one she wore and tossed it into her leather pack. "You did a good job in there."
"So did you." He sat on a chair covered in blue cotton. Everything in this castle was blue, just as much of it had been gold back in Risos. The dragons were fond of decorating in their native color. He was intrigued to see how they decorated the underground caverns in the Charred Barrens. "Did you mean what you said about coming not just to rescue us from Malum, but also to bring Tressa to the Charred Barrens?"
Fi nodded. "We knew she was in danger. Grave danger."
"But what is wrong with her, exactly?" Jarrett wrung his hands.
"I don't know." Fi tossed in one final, identical dress and cinched up the bag. "But we need to get Tressa to the caverns. She can be healed there."
"Is she a dragon?" Jarrett asked, afraid of the answer.
