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Dragonlands(39)

By:Megg Jensen


“Thank you.”

“I’ve been trying for years to get close to Stacia. To kill her. But I haven’t done it yet.” He kicked a pebble into the fire pit. It fell through the ashes as easily as a raindrop through a low cloud.

“Why kill her?” Tressa held back a yawn. The exhaustion of the last few days was finally getting to her.

Fenn gestured toward the trees. “Her mother did this to us. Commissioned her magicians to erect a wall of fog around Hutton’s Bridge. Stacia maintains it. It’s her fault our people continue to suffer.” He slammed a fist into his leg. “If Hutton’s Bridge were free, we could easily get them medicine. It’s just a suicide mission now.”

Tressa thought it through, her mind a jumble with ideas. Her father had medicine they could attempt take back to Hutton’s Bridge. Yet they’d always be imprisoned by the fog and the beast within. Unless someone killed Stacia.

“Instead,” he continued in the silent night, “people are dying. If someone could overthrow Stacia…”

“Maybe I could.” It was only a whisper on Tressa’s lips. Since the moment Connor died so brutally, she wanted Stacia to suffer a similar fate.

Fenn shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re too unfamiliar with the town. You don’t know enough. You’d never be able to do it.”

“If I could get close enough, I could do it. I know I could.” Tressa’s heart pounded. Connor’s mutilation replayed, the scent of blood still fresh in her memory. Her fingernails dug into her palms. Through the treetops, the stars twinkled at her. She’d never seen them so clear or bright until that moment. The world opened up to her. She was outside the fog in a land most people in Hutton’s Bridge believed was just an old tale. She was living the impossible.

“No.” Fenn placed a hand on her arm. “I won’t allow it.”

She looked at her father, his face covered in the shadows of night. The shape of his chin, the rise of his cheekbones. Yes, they were father and daughter. That much she believed. She would do what he hadn’t. “I’ll leave just before dawn. Don’t tell Bastian where I’ve gone. Convince him to wait here for me. Tell him to trust me.”

Her father nodded. “There’s nothing I can do to stop you?”

“No.”

Fenn wrapped his arms around his daughter, pulling her into a hug. “Then I will pray for your safety. I want nothing more than to see you again.”

“You will. I promise.”

“There is something else I wanted to ask of you.”

“Anything,” she said.

“Did you happen to bring any honey with you from the village? I haven’t tasted it in years. You’d be surprised how much a man misses something so simple.” Fenn laughed.

“I do have some. I’ll leave it for you.”

Fenn smiled. “Thank you.”

***

Tressa awoke in the dark of night. She’d slept fitfully, waiting for the hours to pass and silence to permeate their small encampment. His blanket askew, moonlight touched all the places on Bastian’s body Tressa never wanted to forget. Her gaze lingered for only a moment more. Leaning over, she kissed him gently on the forehead. Once Bastian was asleep, it would take an army to raise him before sunlight.

Knowing that allowed her to do what needed to be done. Tressa slipped her shoes on her feet, pulled her gown over her shoulders, tying a knot in the strings that kept it from falling down and exposing too much cleavage.

She pulled a cloak over her clothes, resting the hood on her head. “I love you,” she whispered to Bastian, “and I’m sorry.”

The wooden door unlatched and opened without a sound, letting the cold air seep in like death’s silent keen. A rustling in the leaves, gave her pause. She rested her hand on the door, waiting for another sound.

Stay. Wait. Help.

Tressa shook her head, hoping the little owl could see her in the dark. She didn’t dare utter a word for fear of waking anyone. Before she could change her mind, Tressa ran across the open area in the center of the cottages. She darted into the woods.

Walking through the remainder of the night wasn’t easy. Not only was she alone, but she was afraid of what lie in wait for her in the dark. Without the skill or strength to fight back against a battle-hardened foe, Tressa knew she didn’t stand a chance. The cover of night was her only ally and she would use every second of it she could to get to the town.





Chapter Twenty-Six


Bastian woke long after sunrise. He stretched out and reached for Tressa, but only found the wool blanket. He clenched the scratchy fabric. A slow smile spread across his face. Last night had been amazing. They’d made love three times before falling asleep in each other’s arms. He’d hoped for a fourth when he woke up, but she was already gone. Probably starving just like he was.