Hunted (Book 2) (11 page)

Bastian sat on the throne he'd righted the day before. He'd
spent most of the day cleaning up the mess Tressa and Jarrett had made fighting
Stacia. Nothing was where it should have been. The throne was upside down
behind the door. Cups and plates, along with flung food and spilled wine, were scattered
across the floor. Chairs that once held dignitaries and guests were upended. He
couldn't believe they'd just left it this way. Yes, the dragon bodies of Stacia
and Henry were gone, cleaned up by the Black Guard likely, but had no one cared
enough to restore the room to its proper glory? Where were the workers? Someone
had to be in control of it.

No one had reported back on Hutton's Bridge or Tressa and
the only time he'd seen another person was when a cloaked man brought his
dinner and another a meal to break his fast that morning. Neither had spoken to
him, or so much as looked at him.

A knock at the door surprised him. "Enter," he
called, trying to sound official.

The doors flung open. "Bastian!" The stomp of
Elinor’s boots echoed in the throne room as she ran toward him and flung
herself into his arms.

He held onto her and spun her around, so happy to see
someone other than the silent black robed healers outside his door. He put her
down, and her cheeks flushed pink.

"I'm sorry." She smoothed out her dress and took
a couple of steps back. She looked up at him through fluttered eyelashes.
"I was just so happy to see you safe."

"Safe," he asked. "Why wouldn't I be safe?”

She rubbed her hands together. "When Connor came back
to the cave and was taking the eggs one by one to the castle, I was worried for
your safety. All alone here with just a few wimpy healers. What if the Black
Guard had revolted? What if the townspeople stormed the castle?"

Bastian's eyebrows furrowed. "The men in the Black
Guard were annoyed and left once they saw Connor. They haven't been back. And
why would the townspeople revolt?"

"I don't know. I was just concerned." Elinor
shrugged, the blush spreading deeper. "Silly, I know. I always get worried
about my patients." She surveyed the room. "I thought everything was
destroyed after the battle."

Bastian shrugged. "Not destroyed, but definitely a
mess. I tried to clean it up. There was nothing else for me to do other than
sit and wait."

"Any news about Tressa or Hutton's Bridge?"
Elinor asked as she strolled around the room, her hands behind her back.

Bastian admired her sure, steady gait, as if she owned the
world. Few women had that kind of confidence where he came from. Few, except
Tressa. She was the only girl who'd ever been worth fighting for – even
though she never needed his help.

"No news," he said, trying to keep his voice
steady. "I'm hoping someone comes soon with a message. I asked yesterday
afternoon and one of your healer friends ran off. I thought that meant they
were going to look into it."

Elinor sighed and ran her fingers through her blond
ringlets. "Sometimes my colleagues can be a bit narrow. If they assume
Tressa is well, they may not worry about her as much, as, say the dragon
eggs."

"But I'm their new leader, and I care about
Tressa."

"You love her," Elinor said, her voice soft.

"I do," Bastian said.

She laid a tiny hand on his arm. "But they don't love
her. Healers don't love the same way everyone else does."

Bastian tilted his head. "I don't understand. You're
just like me, aren't you?"

"In flesh and bone, yes." She took her hand away,
leaving a warmth in her wake. "But we are unlike you in so many ways. I
was chosen at birth to be a healer. My life is not the same as yours."

Bastian laughed. "I grew up in a town surrounded by a
magical fog. My childhood wasn't like that of anyone else here."

Elinor's eyes darkened. She looked toward the door, then
back at Bastian, her voice lowered. "There are...things...that others do
not know about the healers."

"I suspect that's true considering your healing magic
only renews once every moon."

"That is true, and it's only one grain in a beach
filled with countless layers of sand." Elinor grabbed Bastian's hand and
tugged.

He followed, stumbling over his feet as she took off in a
run toward a chaise on the far end of the room, closest to the window where
Connor had taken flight the day before.

"I think we can trust my fellow healers."

"Think?" Bastian asked, concerned. His eyes
darted toward the door and back to Elinor again. Her hand shook in his, so he
reached for her other hand. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

She looked up at him, her blue eyes so big and trusting.
"Can I? I barely know you, but something inside me whispers, telling me
that you can hear my secrets and never breathe a word of them to anyone
else."

"Of course, Elinor. What is it?" His curiosity was
definitely piqued. What secrets could she be hiding about the healers that were
so bad she couldn't let anyone else hear?

Elinor pulled his hand to her chest. "Do you feel my
heart? It's pounding."

He could feel her heart and the swell of her breast just
below. He thought of Fotia, the little dragon, and of his dead wife Vinya,
anything other than how badly he wanted to let his thumb dip just a tiny bit
farther south.

Bastian pulled away and took Elinor's face in his hands.
"What is it?" He gazed into her eyes, noticing the curve of her lips
and the one small tear that threatened to spill over her light blond lashes.

The doors burst open. Bastian dropped his hands and Elinor
sniffled and wiped away the tear.

"What is it?" he asked the intruder, angrier than
he'd intended.

"We have word of Hutton's Bridge, and you're not going
to like it," the man in the black hooded cloak said.

“Yes?” Bastian prompted him, tired of waiting for answers.
Everything was a damn mystery.

“The village is empty, sir. No one remains.” The man lifted
his hands into the air. “We were prepared to bring villagers here and heal
them, but it appears they’ve all left.”

Bastian rubbed his temples, dreading the answer to the next
question. “Tressa and Jarrett, did you find them?”

“No,” the healer said, shaking his head, “but we believe
based on tracks that they left for the Sands.”

“Together?” Bastian asked, trying to hold his anger back. “Did
they leave together or did one set of tracks head back here?” He wanted the
answer to be two different sets of tracks headed in opposite directions. He
wanted to believe Tressa was on her way back to him and not forging ahead with
that other man.

“There were tracks for two horses, sir, both headed toward
the northwest.”

“That will be all. Leave us,” Bastian said. Inside, he was
aching, torn apart with the knowledge Tressa had left him again.

Bastian didn’t watch the man leave. Only the thud of the
doors closing tight told him that he was alone with Elinor again.

“I’m sure she had a good reason,” Elinor told him quietly.

“She can’t even be bothered to send me a message, can she?”
Bastian’s heart thumped in his chest. Anger roiled inside him like a storm on
the verge of shooting out thousands of lightning bolts. “One little pigeon,
that’s all it would take. Just to tell me why she keeps leaving.”

“I don’t understand it,” Elinor said. “If you loved me,
nothing could keep me away from you.”

Bastian looked at the girl, no woman, standing in front of
him. She said she’d meet him at the castle as soon as Connor had gotten all of
the eggs. She’d saved his life and taken him to safety. She’d given him a
throne. More importantly, she followed through on every one of her promises.

He was attracted to Elinor, there was no question about
that. But he’d promised Tressa they’d be together. Everything he’d done was for
her. Until he knew for sure she’d left him, he’d have to hold back any
attraction. He couldn’t give up on her now.

Bastian turned to Elinor. “I know you were about to tell me
something about your childhood with the healers. Can it wait?” He took a deep
breath and let it out. “The people of Hutton’s Bridge are missing and we need
to find them. If Connor will agree, I’ll fly with them to search for any sign
of the villagers. I didn’t take down the fog and save their asses only to have
them all disappear.”

“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.”

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.