by Megg Jensen
"It's okay." Lily shrugged. "I've got nothing here. I'm happy to help."
"That's wonderful," Elinor said. "In some ways I envy you. To get away from the threat of war and constant upheaval."
"Someday," Bastian said, setting his hand on Elinor's and squeezing it.
Elinor smiled at him. "Yes, someday."
A loud whoop preceded the children. They ran into the kitchen, searching for food.
A boy stuck his hand in a bowl of chunks of bread and Lily slapped his hand with a wooden spoon. "Mind your manners," she said. But a smile played at the corner of her mouth.
Yes, she would enjoy going with the children. Bastian felt better about telling her she could join them. The children of Hutton's Bridge needed all the caring adults they could find.
Elinor reached out for Hazel, and they smiled at each other. The two had become quick friends.
"Where is Connor?" Elinor asked Hazel.
She frowned. "He's outside in the courtyard with Fotia and Vatra. His other children need him, too." She glanced over at her two boys.
Elinor laid her hand on Hazel's arm. "Vatra and Fotia are helpless still."
"Maybe once Connor understands I'm willing to make our family one, dragons included, then he'll trust me again. I've been asking to spend time with Fotia and Vatra, but as of yet he hasn't allowed it."
Elinor laughed. "Vatra bites. That's probably why."
Hazel's eyes danced. "Then that explains the marks on his hands. When I asked, he refused to tell me where they came from. I just have to show him I'm not afraid."
"If he thinks he's protecting you, then that's a good sign. Men like to protect women," Elinor said, winking at Bastian.
"All right, that's enough." Bastian grabbed Elinor's elbow and tugged her toward the door. "Enough twittering for now. We have to be on our way soon." He turned to Hazel. "Make sure the children are well fed."
Hazel saluted Bastian. "Yes, sir." Then she laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to you being so commanding. You've always been the strong, but silent man."
Bastian shrugged. "We've all changed."
Hazel's eyes clouded over. "True. But for the better. We're all stronger."
Bastian nodded, then left the kitchen with Elinor.
Not much later, the large group assembled in the courtyard. The children played and yelled, excited to be going home again. Hazel, Lily, and the two healers rounded the kids up, trying to keep them focused. The townspeople of Ashoom offered them gifts, though Bastian felt they were just happy to see them leaving. Despite having a tyrant for a ruler, they'd lived a fairly quiet, simple life until Bastian, Tressa, and Connor came to their town. Now the threat of war hung over them.
Connor stood off to the side, Fotia and Vatra prancing around him. Bastian had decided it was for the best if he didn't leave in dragon form. Let the people of Ashoom think their dragon was still in the castle, watching out for them.
"Are you ready?" Elinor asked Bastian.
"Should I give some kind of speech before we go?" he asked.
"No, let's just leave. Few here will care. I think they will be more distressed over losing three of their healers than seeing you go," she said.
Bastian looked through the crowd. He'd lived there for a quite a while now, and didn't recognize anyone. He had been too busy running all over the Dragonlands chasing a ghost, a life that was forever lost. Bastian glanced at Elinor and smiled. He'd found a woman here, one who had helped him move on from Tressa. Bastian smiled, then looked up. His eyes locked with a woman he knew. The woman he’d spent the night with when Tressa rejected him for Jarrett.
The whore winked at him. She licked her lips, then waved.
Bastian didn't return the gesture.
Her eyes clouded over, then she pointed down at her stomach and rubbed it.
No. No. She couldn't be. His eyes grew wide with fear.
She nodded, her hair spilling over her shoulders.
He'd gotten her pregnant. Bastian had been so lost that night over losing Tressa that he couldn't even remember if he'd thought to use a lambskin sheath. He'd been too busy drowning his sorrows between that woman’s legs.
He looked back at the children. His daughter Farah played dolls with another little girl. So she'd no longer be an only child. Part of him was happy, but another part horrified. How would he explain to his daughter that he’d had a child with a whore?
Elinor tapped Bastian's shoulder. "Ready?"
How could he explain it to Elinor?
Chapter Thirty-Four
They arrived in Hutton's Bridge just as the sun was falling behind the treetops.
"We made it.” Bastian leaned against the door to his old cottage.
"This was your home?" Elinor asked.
Bastian nodded. His time with Vinya flashed in his memory, but he pushed those images away. For Farah's sake, he'd never speak poorly of his dead wife. It did no justice to the living or the dead to rehash her constant verbal abuse. Farah would grow up loved. It was all she would ever know. And his other child, the one with the whore ... well he'd deal with that later. If the baby was even his.
"Should we head back to Ashoom tonight?" Elinor asked as they walked toward the town hall.
Bastian looked up at the sky. The stars sparkled above the forest bathing the small village in soft light. The same stars he'd gazed at his whole life. Unchanging. Static. Just like Hutton's Bridge. He no longer felt this cottage in front of him was his home. Bastian wasn't sure he could call any place home now.
"No, I think we should spend at least one night here," he said. "Just to make sure everyone gets settled. Once we reinstate the fog, we won’t be back until it’s time to take it down again."
"Bastian!" Hazel waved at him from across the town square, where she stood in the doorway of the village hall, her oldest son peeking out from between her legs.
"Is there enough space for everyone?" Bastian asked. They'd decided all the children and their caretakers would live together in the village hall, which used to be the old inn before the fog. The children would share rooms and the adults would sleep on the ground floor, to assure none of them ran out during the night.
"There is." Hazel nodded. She reached down, ruffled her son's hair, and then pushed him backward. "Go on inside.” She looked at Bastian again. "Farah's been asking if she can go home with you. I thought perhaps it would be best if you talked to her and told her your plans."
"Of course," Bastian said. "I meant to anyway." He hadn't thought of it, actually. Parenting was never something that had come easily to him, and on the rare occasions he did have a thought, Vinya would squelch it. It was her idea, or it wasn't allowed. Eventually, he'd given up. He let Vinya make all the decisions and only interacted with Farah when it was necessary.
He was a terrible father, and he knew it.
"Elinor," he said, "do you mind if I do this alone?"
She squeezed Bastian's hand. "Of course not. I completely understand."
Bastian smiled at Elinor, then followed Hazel into the former village hall. His heart pounded. Since the children had been rescued, he'd only spent small, stolen moments with Farah. Even after Vinya had died in the forest outside Hutton's Bridge, he'd left Farah's care to others. It was a wonder the girl even wanted to speak to him.
"Dada!" Farah ran into Bastian's outstretched arms. She snuggled into his shoulder.
He squeezed her tightly. Farah stepped back. He looked into her face, really looked at her for the first time in her three years, and noticed something he hadn't before. Farah had his green eyes and his strong cheekbones and chin. Though she hadn’t inherited his red hair, Farah looked almost exactly like him.
"Hazel said you wanted to ask me a question, baby girl. What is it?" Bastian tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear.
"I'm not a baby." Farah pouted, her hands on her hips.
Bastian held back laughter. "I'm sorry. Big girl, what did you want to ask?"
Farah grinned, her smile meltin
g his heart even more. "I want you to stay here. Want to go home." Her speech lisped slightly, her tongue darting in and out of a gap between her top teeth.
"We can't. Not yet. There are still bad guys out there to fight. I have to help drive them away so we can be safe." Bastian watched the light go out of her eyes. "But I promise I'll be back as soon as possible, okay?"
"Okay!" Farah's smile lit up again.
Bastian didn't have any guarantees he'd be back soon, or that they'd ever be safe. But he refused to take away her hope.
Farah slipped her little hand into his calloused palm. She leaned in close, her lips close to his ear. "Just make sure that mean old lady isn't there."
"Who?" Bastian asked, surprised.
"That old lady who used to live with Tressa," Farah whispered. "She scares me."
Bastian sat back on his heels, confused. "You mean Sophia?"
Farah nodded.
"Sweetie, she died many moons ago."
Farah shook her head, disagreeing. "She was there. With the red dragons. Mean old lady."
Bastian hugged Farah again. She must have had nightmares while being held captive. And she was so young and easily confused. He remembered having nightmares as a child, and sometimes they had seemed so real. Bastian kissed Farah’s brow. “I promise I won't let the mean old lady get you. Now, go play. I'm spending the night here, but I’m heading back to the castle in the morning."
"Okay, Dada." Farah ran off, grabbing another girl's hand and giggling.
Bastian sat on the floor, his back against the wall. The children ran, playing tag in the large common room, not a care in the world. They were just happy to be back in their village. Their home.
Elinor sat next to Bastian. "Your daughter is very cute," she said. "She looks a lot like you."
"She does, doesn't she?"
"I wonder what our babies would look like."
Bastian stared at Elinor. "You're not..."
"No!" She laughed. "It was just a question. Not a hint.”
Bastian let out a sigh of relief.
"You're not ready for that, are you?" she asked, her voice quiet.
"No," Bastian said. "I'm not. Maybe someday."
"Maybe us?" she asked, nudging Bastian with her elbow.
"Maybe." He nudged her back.
Elinor rested her head on his shoulder.
He liked her. Maybe he loved her. But now was the wrong time for love. Certainly the worst time for a commitment.
"Where do you want to sleep tonight?" she asked him, followed by a long yawn.
It had been a tiring day. Even some of the children were voluntarily winding down, Farah among them. Her eyelids drooped as she played with a cornhusk doll.
"Here," Bastian said. He didn't want to take Elinor to his cottage where he'd lived with Vinya. It felt wrong somehow and most of the nights he'd spent at the forge had included a random woman. He refused to take her to the meadow where he'd lain with Tressa so many times. No, his relationship with Elinor didn't have a place in Hutton's Bridge yet. "I think it's best if we stay with everyone else. Just in case."
"I understand." Elinor patted his hand and stood. "I'm going to get my pack and settle down over there. You're welcome to join me, but I understand if you don't, with Farah around."
Elinor had a point. It might upset and confuse Farah if she saw him sleeping next to another woman. Back at the castle, he hadn't let her know he shared his chambers with Elinor. "I'd sleep with Connor, but I think he's still outside with Fotia and Vatra," Bastian said. "Perhaps my place is near the door, as a guard."
Elinor walked away, her hips swinging with each step. Bastian regretted he'd be spending a night without his arms wrapped around her waist, his fingers dipping dangerously low... Bastian shook his head. Not now.
He stood, and caught Hazel's eye. He pointed outside, indicating he had to use the privy. Really, he needed to get away from Elinor. Hazel nodded, and Bastian slipped out the door. He'd be back soon enough, ready to settle in for the night.
He glanced up at the sky again, the stars winking. Without thinking, he took off in the direction of Tressa's cottage. On the other side of the village, close to the forest, her cottage had always been away from everyone else's. He'd never thought to ask if that was Sophia's family's cottage when the fog fell or if she'd taken it for her own later.
He tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. It was yet another mystery surrounding Tressa. And now there was a new mystery: why Tressa’s great-grandmother haunted his daughter’s nightmares.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Tressa flew until her wings could no longer support her. She glided down to the ground, her feet landing solidly on the grass. She changed into human form and adjusted her leather top.
She'd flown through the boundaries of the Meadowlands, experiencing nothing more than a tingle when she passed through the magical barrier that kept the Green trapped inside. She was determined to add to the numbers fighting for freedom in the Dragonlands.
Tressa hadn’t encountered any other dragons on her way to the Meadowlands. Perhaps they’d all scrambled back to their homelands to lick their wounds after the last battle.
Tressa knew leaving the army behind wouldn't be looked upon kindly, but it wasn't her fault she had followed Jarrett’s siren song. He'd wielded black magic against her. She was lucky he hadn't destroyed her. If it weren't for Fi, Tressa would certainly be dead on that island, and Jarrett lost to whatever held him. Tressa hoped Fi wouldn’t be treated too harshly when she arrived back at the Ruins of Ebon with Jarrett.
Tressa had flown northwest, looking for the town she'd seen on the map. The Outpost. It was the largest town in the Meadowlands, although it wasn’t where the royalty resided, Tressa knew what she was about to propose was risky, and it was unlikely to be met with much enthusiasm. Still, she needed the Green’s support.
All her friends were doing so much to return peace to the Dragonlands. Bastian and Connor were keeping the children of Hutton's Bridge safe. Fi was going to find a way to sever the dark magic that held onto Jarrett. Tressa wouldn't sit idly by, doing nothing, while the rest of them found a way to help.
She knew she'd already be facing the wrath of her great-grandmother for deserting during the battle. Perhaps she could make up for it in the Meadowlands.
"Can I help you?" asked the guard at the gates. A tall wooden wall surrounded the town, standing in stark contrast to the tall grass surrounding it. She hadn’t realized The Outpost was fortified.
"I'm here looking for a family. There are three children: Margret, Peyter, and Edmond. I think they live on a farm west of here, but I wasn't sure where to look." Tressa stood tall, attempting to appear commanding.
"Don't know 'em," the guard said. "Now go back where you belong. Out of the Meadowlands. We don't want your kind here. I saw you fly in. I know what you are."
"I know what the Red and Yellow did to you,” Tressa said. “I'm here to help."
"Help?" The man laughed, his belly shaking. "We needed help the last couple years, and where has the Black been? Hiding! Cowards. We don't need you or your help." He turned his back on her, slamming the gate in Tressa's face.
Tressa jumped into the air, her wings appearing faster than she could remove her shirt. It hung in tatters from her wing. She cursed. Now she wouldn't be able to change back into a human without baring her breasts. It wasn't how she wanted to present herself to the people of the Meadowlands.
Beating her wings, and aided by the help of the breeze, Tressa rose straight up in the air and flew over the wall. Countless people milled in the streets below.
A child glanced up at the sky, shielding her eyes with her hand, and pointing. Everyone around her looked up. The man who had slammed the gate on Tressa shook his head. People scuttled around like ants. Five burst into the sky, taking their sparkling emerald dragon form. They flew up, circling Tressa.
Can you hear me? she asked them. Her neck whipped from side to side, looking at the other d
ragons. Their slitted eyes narrowed, glaring back at her.
Yes, one of them responded.
Tressa couldn't tell which, and none of them gave an indication.
I'm here to ask for your help, Tressa said. I am from the Charred Barrens. We're fighting against the Red and Yellow to bring freedom to all of the Dragonlands.
The five dragons swayed and twirled, flying around Tressa in a dizzying circle. She flapped her wings slowly, maintaining her position—and reserving her strength in case they decided to attack.
I do not know how to bring down the barrier, but if I can find someone who knows how, will you be ready? Will you fight with us? she asked.
A dragon with golden spots on its wings broke into the circle. The other four continued their dance.
Will we be allowed to live as we choose? We want to offer the dragon form to all who want it. The voice was deep and sonorous.
Yes, she answered.
And who are you to make such a promise? he asked. His tail lazily batted back and forth. Three sharp spikes lined his reptilian skin.
I am free, just as you are. I will not tell you what to do. At the same time, I will not tell you what not to do. If we can defeat the Yellow and the Red, all will be allowed to live their lives as they choose. At least she hoped that was the truth. It was what she was fighting for. Freedom from war. Freedom from tyranny. A chance to live life on her own terms.
The spotted dragon flew back into formation. The Green dragons flew around Tressa in an unending circle, mouth following tail. Then the circle broke, and the five flew to the ground, landing in the center of the town square and returning to their human forms. All five waved at her.
She again cursed herself for tearing her top, but despite her mistake, she needed their support. Tressa dove to the ground, changing. She held the tatters from her shirt across her chest.
"Goodness, me," a woman's voice said from behind her. Tressa felt something drape over her shoulders. She grasped the linen, pulling the cloak tightly, and letting the tattered leather top fall to the ground.
