Hunted (Book 2) (8 page)

Tressa dangled from the stone wall, her arms stretched away
from her body, her wrists bound with rope. Her toes barely touched the floor;
her dark hair hung around her face, damp with sweat and tears. Every movement
resulted in burning and searing flashes of pain.

When the guards brought her down and tied her up, candles
had lit the dank room. As they left, the guards blew them out, leaving Tressa
washed in blackness. Every moment felt like many days had passed. Her toes
scrambled to find purchase on the floor. Her arms screamed in agony, the veins
and skin stretching beyond her worst nightmares.

Torture chamber. All she did was hang there. Was this the
torture or only the beginning? She closed her eyes, praying for Bastian, for
Jarrett, for the blue dragon she thought was Connor, for anyone, even Leo's
ghost, to find her and rescue her. Given any opponent, she'd be happy to fight
for her life with a sword. But here, hung and left alone, she couldn't.

The silence was deafening. Not even the light footsteps of
a brave mouse could be heard. It was as if they'd dropped her in here and
forgotten she existed. Her hands drooped, her fingers limp and tingling. The
rope cut deeper into her wrists. She shut her eyes, let out a long breath, and,
with a resignation she didn’t know existed in her fighting soul, she gave up.

No one would find her. Even when Jarrett made it to town,
he wouldn't know where to find her, and the queen was unlikely to tell him. But
on the chance he did know where to look, it would be too late. He was three
days out and Tressa knew she would never last that long.

Not like this.

She'd be lucky if she lasted the day.

Or unlucky.

A small noise in the distance snapped her head to
attention. Muffled voices became louder; she was almost able to make out their
words.

"Help!" she screamed in the room, her voice
bouncing off the walls in a pathetic echo. "Help me, please!"

The voices grew louder. Closer. Until she heard a click in
the lock on the door. Candles burst to life, one by one, until Tressa could see
who had come to rescue her.

"Ah, there she is. My new prize." Jacinda swept
into the room, her golden hair twisted in uncountable braids, captured in a bun
on the top of her head, and adorned with a golden tiara.

Tressa's stomach sank. There would be no rescue. Not now.
Maybe not ever.

An old woman, wrinkled so heavily her nose was the only feature
Tressa could make out with any certainty, followed. Her lips and eyes hid
within the vast gullies of her face. A small smoking pipe drooped from between
two large wrinkles. A sickly, sweet smell filled the room.

It was similar to the incense they'd burned on the oasis.
For a moment, Tressa could taste the sweet juice of the papaya dripping down
the back of her throat.

While on the oasis, she'd been nothing but anxious to
continue their journey and find help in tracking down the people of Hutton's
Bridge. Now she wished that she was back on the oasis. Clean, unharmed, and
surrounded by the safety of Jarrett's tent.

"What are we doing with her?" the old woman
asked, the pipe bouncing up and down with each word. Ashes fell, skittering
along the floor like dust mites in a gentle breeze. One finger touched under
Tressa's chin as the woman walked closer and stared into Tressa's eyes.

The irises of the woman's eyes were huge, crowding out
almost all of the grassy green pigment. Drugs. Tressa had seen those eyes
before in Hutton's Bridge when she, Connor, and Bastian had stolen some grass
from the meadow and smoked it. They'd laughed and laughed, muffling their
conversation behind pursed lips to avoid getting caught. But this woman smoked
it in the open, not caring who saw. The Sands truly was a strange place.

"I need to pull the truth out of her," Jacinda
said, strolling around the dungeon as if it was her throne room.

"What truths do you seek, Jacinda?" the old woman
asked. She winked at Tressa, squeezed her chin, then turned back to the queen.

"I need to know the true nature of her relationship
with Jarrett." Her eyes blazed. "Everything she's told so far is
lies, Miranda."

"And you know this because..." The old woman,
Miranda, placed her hands on Jacinda's shoulders. The queen relaxed a bit, her
arms dangling at her sides.

"Because I know Jarrett," she said with a sigh.

Despite the clothes and the crown, she no longer looked
like a queen. Only a woman worried about her man's wandering eye. Tressa had
seen that stooped posture and lost look in herself after Bastian was taken from
her and given to Vinya. Still, Tressa hadn't assaulted Vinya or locked her in a
dungeon. She understood, but she felt no sympathy from Jacinda.

Jacinda shook Miranda's arms away. She pulled herself up,
regal once again. Reaching out, Jacinda grabbed skin from Tressa's arm between
two fingers and pinched until Tressa couldn't help but whimper. "You will
tell me what Jarrett wants with you. And Miranda will make sure you don't die
during the torture."

With wild eyes, Tressa looked to Miranda, who winked at her
again. "It's true, my dear. I'm a healer. A gifted one. I can take a
person from the brink of death and draw them back to life. Again. And again.
And again. Endlessly."

"Jarrett and I came here for help," Tressa said,
forgetting she'd promised to let Jarrett introduce their story with finesse.
"I'm from Hutton's Bridge."

Jacinda took a step backward, stumbling into a wall.
"No! Hutton's Bridge is a tale, nothing more. A ghost town hidden in the
fog. There were no survivors." She shook her head, her hair cascading out
of the loose bun, dangling over her face. “It’s another lie. Miranda, prepare
to heal her.”

The queen went to the armory on the wall, grabbing a sharp
metal device. Like the wishbone of a chicken, two metal bars were connected at
the top, with two spikes at the bottom of each bar. Jacinda squeezed and the
spikes clashed together with a sickening metallic scratch.

“Do you know what this does?” Jacinda asked Tressa, taking
slow, small steps toward her.

Tressa didn’t answer. She couldn’t have uttered a
comprehensible word if she’d tried. Her mouth felt as if it were filled with
cotton, her throat tight, overflowing with the erratic beat of her heart.

“It will tear at the flesh of your breasts. It will
puncture holes. Ugly holes, not pretty piercings. No, the ripper will mimic the
teeth of a famished tiger, eating his first meal in days.” Jacinda smirked.
“But don’t worry, Miranda will heal you before you die. I wouldn’t want you
bleeding to death before I get my answers. Miranda, would you please…”

Miranda took a long drag of her pipe, then placed it on a
nearby shelf. She laid her hands on Tressa’s head. “At your leisure, Jacinda.”

She clanked the ripper together a couple more times.
Lunging for Tressa, she snatched the front of her dress, ripping it in two,
exposing Tressa’s breasts to the cold air.

Tressa jerked against her bonds in an effort to cover her
body, but the ropes only dug in harder, keeping her from defending herself
against this insane woman.

Jacinda smiled. “Nervous, are you? It’s okay. Most women
are. They don’t like being tortured. Occasionally the men enjoy it, but only
rarely. As soon as you tell me what I need to know, I’ll set you free.”

Tears spilled down Tressa’s cheeks. “I already told you.
I’m from Hutton’s Bridge.”

“Liar,” Jacinda screamed, her eyes feral. She lunged again.

Tressa closed her eyes and held her breath, waiting for the
pain.

Nothing came except a loud thud on the floor.

She opened one eye slowly.

Jacinda lay sprawled on the floor, the ripper next to her.
“Why did you do that?” she screamed at Miranda.

The old woman scurried to Jacinda’s side, whispering in her
ear.

“She’s what?” Jacinda roared. Her head swung, and she
looked Tressa straight in the eyes. “You’re pregnant.” She spat out the words
as if they were chunks of vomit left in her mouth after purging.

Tressa forced herself to appear defeated. Wounded. Fearful.
Despite the joy rising in her chest, she bit her lip and cried.

Pregnant. After all this time she was finally pregnant.
Love filled her heart. Hope. A new determination to fight her way free.

"So that's why he's marrying you." Jacinda
laughed manically, her head falling backward. "He doesn't love you. He
probably doesn't even like you." She poked Tressa on the arm with the
ripper's fangs. Blood dripped, fresh and coppery. "Are you a whore? Did he
pay you for one night, and you tricked him by poking a hole in the linen sheath
meant to hold his seed?" Jacinda took a swipe at Tressa's other shoulder.

Pain seared though her veins. It mingled with her joy.
Pregnant. And with Bastian's baby! They'd tried so hard back in Hutton's
Bridge, but she had never been able to conceive. Now they could have everything
they wanted. Tressa hardened. She had another life to protect. The most
precious life in Dragonlands. Which meant she had to give Jacinda exactly what
she wanted.

"Jarrett loves me!" she insisted. "I am no
whore. He will marry me as soon as he arrives and it will be for love. He does
not even know I'm pregnant."

Jacinda dropped the ripper. It clattered on the floor.
"He does not know? Truly?" She stepped closer and closer until her
nose was just a breath away from Tressa's.

Tressa pulled on the ropes, wanting to wrap her fingers
around Jacinda's throat. Still, she was strung too tightly and couldn't do more
than flick her wrists. “He doesn’t. I didn’t even know.”

"You will not tell him," Jacinda said with a
snarl.

"I won't. I swear," Tressa answered, desperate.
Anything to get free.

"You will not tell him because you will not
remember." Jacinda spun on her heel, stalking away. "Miranda, call
the royal mage. Ask him to erase this girl's memory from the moment she arrived
here."

"No!" Tressa screamed. "Don't take this away
from me! Please! I swear I won't tell, just don't make me forget!"

Miranda cackled, following Jacinda out of the room, leaving
Tressa alone.

"I won't forget you," she promised her baby.
"I swear. No matter what they do to me, I will not forget."

Tears spilled from Tressa's eyes as she gasped for breath.
"I will not forget," she repeated over and over again until a man
entered the room.

His head was buried deep within a royal blue robe,
decorated with the stars of night. His large, thin hands rose, resting on her
face. "It will not hurt. Do not fight me." His voice sounded like
glass breaking.

Tressa tried to appear brave. She tried to hold back the
tears as the wisps of memories flew from her consciousness.

For days Elinor
and Bastian helped Connor care for Fotia. After he’d changed back into a human,
no one uttered a word about it, as if they were used to humans turning into
dragons all the time.

Elinor spent as much time with Fotia as Connor did. She
cooed at the dragon, let Fotia sit on her lap, and even fed Fotia food from her
hand. Bastian couldn’t quite convince himself to try. He liked his fingers too
much. One small slip and he’d lose a digit. At night, they all snuggled
together, draping the two cloaks across them to stay warm. Fotia slept at their
feet.

“I think I should head back to town and get more food.
We’re almost out.” Elinor motioned toward the mouth of the cave. “It would take
me nearly a day to walk there and back, but I can make it if I start now.”

“Alone?” Bastian asked. “Are you sure?”

“There’s plenty of food here,” Connor said. “The fish are
tasty.”

Elinor laughed, and Bastian joined in, though it was a
nervous reaction. He still hadn’t gotten used to the idea that his friend, who
had always been as human as Bastian, was now also a dragon. But he was
determined to protect him until Connor could get his memory back. Once they understood
how he’d changed, Bastian hoped they could change him back to the way he used
to be.

“While the fish is spectacular, I’d like some bread.”
Elinor licked her lips and winked at Bastian who’d cooked up a filet for each
of them the night before over a fire. “And apples. And some jerky.”

She grabbed one of the cloaks and twirled it in the air. It
landed squarely on her shoulders. “I’ll be back before you miss me.”

“Be careful out there,” Bastian said. “Are you sure you
don’t want me to come?”

Elinor’s lips curved into a smile. “If I show up in Ashoom
with you, a tall, muscular redheaded man that every guard in town is looking
for, we’ll never get out of there alive. I’d also like to find out if Tressa
and Jarrett have returned with news of your village.”

Bastian hadn’t thought to ask her to check on them, but he was
glad she’d remembered. If there was news…maybe even if Tressa was back, they
could be reunited by the end of the night. “Thank you.” He still felt guilty
letting her go alone, but sending Connor wasn’t an option either. “Fine,” he
said, giving in. “Promise me you’ll keep your eyes open.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “I promise. I’ll come back in
one piece.” The sparkle returned to her eyes. “And I will have a lot of food.”

Bastian watched her sashay out of the cave. Connor cleared
his throat and Bastian turned back. “What?”

“You fancy her.”

“Her?” Bastian asked. He shook his head. “No, I’m in love
with Tressa. Do you remember her?”

“The woman who killed Stacia?” Connor asked. Over the last few
days, Bastian had filled him in on what happened. Connor still couldn’t
remember his life before Stacia, but he did recall Tressa and helping her.
“There’s something special about her. I knew that when I entered the battle. It
wasn’t only seeing her attack Stacia. I recognized her.”

Bastian’s eyebrows rose. “Really? You didn’t mention that
before.”

Connor waved his hands. “No, not in the way you think.
Remembering her was like recalling a dream before it fades away. I knew her,
yes, but I couldn’t tell you anything about her.”

“Do you want me to tell you more about Hazel?” Bastian
asked. The last time he’d brought up Connor’s wife, Connor had claimed it was
time to feed Fotia and abruptly left the cave.

Connor’s smile disappeared. “No.” He stood up, brushed the
dirt off his pants, and proceeded to make his rounds with the eggs. He gave
each a loving pat and whispered his secrets to them.

“Why not?” Bastian pressed. “She loved you very much and
you loved her. Don’t you want to know more?”

Connor whipped around, anger flaming in his eyes.

Bastian feared for a moment Connor might change into a
dragon and burn him to a crisp. With his ashes scattered across the cave floor,
Elinor might never know what happened to him. Still, he held his ground.

“How would you feel if someone told you about a woman you
once loved with all your heart and soul? One you would die for. No matter how
many times your friend tried to remind you, what if you couldn’t remember her?”
Connor relaxed his clenched fists. “I have to focus on what I do know and
that’s these eggs. They need me. Fotia needs me. Would my wife accept them if I
went back to her? They are my family now.”

“I understand,” Bastian said. It was only partly true.
Still, he wouldn’t push anymore. “If you change your mind…”

“I’ll ask,” Connor answered.

They worked in silence the rest of the day. Connor cared
for Fotia, changing into his dragon form only once to feed her. Bastian
gathered fallen branches for their fire. He jumped at every bird skittering
through the trees, every frog croak, and every whistle of the wind in the
leaves.

It wouldn’t be long until Elinor was back with news of
Tressa. Or maybe even Tressa herself. He couldn’t help but hope Jarrett stayed
far away.

As the sun sank behind the trees, Bastian built a fire near
the entrance to the cave. He tossed on one stick after another. The fire leapt
in the air, shooting flickering lights around the cave.

A twig cracked outside. Bastian paused, holding the last
branch in his hands. No other sounds followed. Maybe it was just a squirrel or
a rabbit. Surely Elinor couldn't make so little noise, especially not if she
was bringing Tressa back with her. He expected low whispers. Maybe a giggle or
two. Tressa would be as thrilled to see Bastian as he would be to see her.

"Bastian?" Elinor crept into the cave, her hood
drawn tightly over her face. "Are you and Connor alone?"

"Except for Fotia, yes." Bastian dropped the
stick on the fire. He glanced over her head. "Where's Tressa?"

"She wasn't in Ashoom. She hasn't been back yet,
according to my sources. They've been watching for her."

Bastian tried not to let the disappointment show. Last time
she promised they'd avenge Connor together. Instead she’d taken off in the
middle of the night leaving him alone in the forest. This time she'd left with
Jarrett, promising to come back, and hadn’t shown.

Either she was hurt or she'd lied to him—again.

"That's fine," Bastian said, glad for once that
Connor didn't have his memory. His friend would have known he wasn't being
honest. "Just let me know if you do hear anything."

"Well, I have other news that might impact
everything."

Bastian raised a ginger eyebrow. "What?"

"As you know, the kingdoms are all run by a leader
with a dragon. Now the Blue has no leader—and no dragon." Elinor
stopped and took a deep breath, her hand over her heart. "Sorry, I'd been
running for a while."

While she caught her breath, Bastian's mind raced. The Blue
did have a dragon, but no leader. If anyone found out they were hiding Connor
here, along with a group of dragon eggs, everyone would be hunting for them.

"We have to move Connor and the eggs, quick. Where's a
safe place?" For a moment Bastian cursed himself for eliminating the fog
around Hutton's Bridge. They could have hidden there.

Elinor looked up at him, a smile gracing her curved lips.
"We don't have to hide, Bastian. You can take the throne if Connor agrees
to be your dragon."

For the first time since Elinor came back, Connor spoke.
"I'd rather that than hide the baby dragons out here. There are tunnels
under the castle and the town where I can hide them. It's where Stacia hid us
before."

Bastian's hands fell to his side. "Me? A leader?"

"With a blue dragon, no one can stop you,
Bastian." Elinor clapped her hands together.

"What do you get out of this?" he asked her,
suspicious.

"I only want to study the baby dragons. That's
all." A small pout formed on her face. "What did you think I
wanted?"

Bastian didn't have an answer. It just seemed to him that
people didn't make offers unless they had a personal reason. "Who says I
even want to be a ruler? I don't know anything about leading a town, much less
sitting on a throne."

"It's that or run." Elinor crouched next to the
fire, rubbing her hands. "The rumors about Connor's existence are
spreading. The town is abuzz with talk of the blue dragon escaping. They're
forming groups to hunt for him now. I would expect them to find us in a matter
of days."

"I will need advisors. Guards. How am I supposed to
find people I can trust so quickly?"

“I can help you with that, Bastian." Elinor stood and
took his hands in hers. "Trust me."

He looked into her blue eyes, lit by the glow of the fire.
He nodded and looked at Connor. "Are you sure you want this?"

"I don't know where else to take my children. If you
can keep them safe..." He trailed off, his hands on the egg he'd claimed
was his biological child.

Bastian looked at Fotia bounding around the cave like a
puppy. Elinor's eyes were so hopeful and Connor, his best friend, wanted him to
do this.

"Okay. I'll take the throne, by force if I have
to."