Dragonlands(198)

Granna stood, rejuvenated and youthful. Though her hair was still gray, her body was no longer ravaged by old age. She could have been the same age as Tressa’s parents, if they were still alive. "Now, Tressa..."

"Don't!" Tressa sprang to her feet, but dizziness overtook her, and she sank back down into the chair.

"Drink this. It will help, I promise." Granna nodded to Leisa to bring a pitcher from the table. Leisa poured another cupful of the mystery liquid.

Tressa pressed her lips together.

Fi stomped over to Granna and took the cup. She lifted it to her lips and took a long swig. She held it out to Leisa. "Fill it up again." Once the cup had been refilled, she held it out to Tressa. "Will you drink it now?"

"What is it?" Tressa demanded.

"Tell her," Fi said, glaring at Granna. "She might as well know. You've kept it from her long enough."

Tressa looked at Fi, then at Granna. "No more lies."

"I've never lied to you," Granna said.

"There is so much you haven't told her either." Fi stood next to Tressa.

This new friend was on her side. Jarrett had placed his trust in the right person.

"She's not ready," Granna said.

Fi knelt beside Tressa and squeezed her hand. "You are a dragon. You were born that way and you will forever remain one of us."

"I've been told that before," Tressa said.

Granna's eyebrows rose. "Who told you that?"

"Just some dragons up in the Meadowlands. They didn't know what they were talking about. They were only silly children. I'm not a dragon."

"Tressa, it’s true," Granna said. "You were born with dragon blood in you."

"Impossible. My father only became a dragon after he left Hutton's Bridge. Not before."

"No. Your father had dragon blood in him before he entered the fog. So did your grandfather. I know because I have dragon blood flowing in my veins."

Despite her anger, Tressa laughed, like she'd laughed at the Green dragon, Margret, when she suggested Tressa was a dragon. "Is this because of the drop of blood I drank up in Malum? It wasn't enough to turn me into anything. My father, Fenn, he said I had to drink all of it to become like him. Besides, if I'm a dragon, then why haven't I ever turned into one?"

"Tressa—”

"Don't." Tressa leapt to her feet, only to be overtaken by dizziness again. "Damn it! I just want to feel better!" She struggled, swaying, trying remain standing. Fi took her arm and steadied her.

"If no one else is going to tell her, I will," Fi said. "There's blood in that cup. Blood from our king. It will fortify you and protect you. It will also kill the diseased dragon blood in your system. Your father's blood was tainted. The king's blood will heal you."

Tressa's nose wrinkled. She'd been willing to drink her father's blood with hopes it would save the children of Hutton's Bridge. Yet she balked at drinking this blood. "What will happen if I don't drink it?"

Granna placed a hand on Tressa's shoulder. "If you do not, your father's dragon blood will continue to mingle with yours until it takes over. The blood of the Black is stronger than the Red. Drink. Red will yield to Black.”

"Stop it!" Tressa clapped her hands over her ears. Her heart thudded, threatening to break through her ribs.

"I wouldn't lie to you," Granna said, her voice raised. "Tressa. Listen to me, please. Just drink the blood and all will be right again. I promise you."

Fi held out the cup to Tressa, who lowered her shaking hands. "Trust her," Fi said. "Trust us. I saved you in Malum. I helped to bring the children of Hutton’s Bridge back to safety. I brought you here for healing. Please, Tressa, before you get sicker, please drink."

Tressa looked at her great-grandmother, now restored to a younger version of herself, at Fi, her new friend, and at Leisa, the loyal attendant. No one here had tried to hurt her.

She reached out, taking the cup from Fi's hands. "Okay. I will drink it. But, I swear, if I turn into some sort of evil dragon, I will kill all of you."

Granna smiled. "Now there's my Tressa."

Tressa lifted the cup to her lips and took a long drink of the blood. Unlike her father's blood, which brought up a host of destructive feelings, this blood was sweet and calming. She closed her eyes and drank the cup dry.





Chapter Eight


After two long days of flying on Connor's back, Jarrett, Bastian, and Elinor landed in the tall, reedy grass of the Meadowlands next to the sea separating it from the Isle of Repose.

"Why don't we just fly there?" Bastian asked for what seemed like the thirtieth time.

Jarrett wanted Bastian to stop questioning his judgment. He knew the Dragonlands far better than Bastian could ever claim to. Bastian had grown up in an isolated town. Jarrett had traveled enough to know better. He also knew the Isle of Repose was a land of death. One did not venture into the Isle of Repose without a plan.