Dragonlands(71)

She encouraged it, allowing the Black Guard to exact revenge on people who wronged their families. Being a member gave them power to rule the villages they came from. Stacia kept them well fed, strong, and an unending stream of women sashayed through their apartments, willing to fulfill their every sexual desire. In return, the Black Guard gave her their loyalty.

A loyalty that hadn’t ever been tested. No one dared defy her. Yet Leo wasn’t so sure it was due to fear or lack of interest. Stacia’s political power was tempered. No one invaded. The Drowned Country sat on the coast. Hutton’s Bridge blocked them from the road to the north. Few diplomats from the other realms ever traversed the forest asking for an audience with her.

No, Leo had told her, Stacia’s rule was solid, but unchallenged. She had no allies beyond the fog. While Tressa had viewed her village’s plight as a personal struggle, Leo taught her that it affected the entire land of the dragonlords. Hutton’s Bridge cut off the Drowned Country, leaving them to fend for themselves.

A stray boat from The Sands would meander into port once in a while. Trade wasn’t heavy anymore, though. They survived off of their own wits.

Before Hutton’s Bridge was enveloped in fog, The Drowned Country had been an influential power. Now they were isolated. Alone. Stacia’s army was only needed to guard her against her own people. The thought of invasion from another dragonlord was near impossible.

It was the best time to strike Stacia down. None of the other dragonlords would care and by the time they found out, it would be too late anyway. Her people didn’t love her. The Black Guard kept up appearances for their own ambitions.

All Tressa had to do was get close to Stacia, kill her, and slip away, letting the rest of them work it out. Connor would be avenged. Now Leo too. Tressa could go home and figure out how to help her people. Spend a quiet life with Bastian. Get to know her father better.

One of the men’s voices startled Tressa back to reality. She slipped behind a tall bush, careful to conceal herself. If they caught her spying on them, she doubted the reception would be pleasant.

The man of unknown origin, named Jarrett, stood stark naked on the path. Tressa peered at him through the thick pines, flashes of his dark skin visible. She held her breath.

He wiped a wool towel up and down the length of his body, then he wrapped it around his midsection. She eyed him, pushing a little farther into the bush to get closer.

Yes, he would be a formidable opponent. She didn’t want to get in a fight with him. One-on-one there was no way she would win. Her strengths lie in misdirection and a well-placed sword tip at the right moment. He was one of the brighter soldiers in the group. She couldn’t take him in a fight.

Half the battle was knowing who to attack and who to leave alone. But she needed allies too.

“Jarrett! Get back here. Your arse is still dirty and the whores don’t like that on a man of the Black Guard.”

Jarrett rolled his eyes. “I’ll take my chances,” he shouted back to them.

The sound of splashing water dominated the otherwise quiet scene. The men were really enjoying themselves out there. To Tressa, it seemed as if they were only a group of boys, not men who’d killed and maimed hundreds for a spot in an elite guard. Jarrett was different. Quieter.

He let the wool slip to the ground and Tressa caught a glimpse of his entire naked body between two branches of the pine. At first she felt guilty, then brushed it aside. Bastian had been with Vinya for years. He’d not only seen her naked, but had sex with her. Voluntarily. It wasn’t as if he’d refused her while waiting for an outside chance to be with Tressa again.

She let the warm feeling pass through her body. Not fighting it. Happy to know she could be attracted to a man other than Bastian. For so long she’d wondered if there was something wrong with her. She was relieved to know it was only the limited choice in her small village, not a lack of interest in sex.

She reminded herself she’d committed to Bastian. And he to her.

Now was the worst time for her feel those stirrings, especially for a man she couldn’t yet trust. He was also the main guardian of the boy who slept, rattling the foundation with his snoring.

Tressa needed an ally, but she also needed to tread carefully, and not let a perfectly shaped and very clean arse get in her way.

Later that night, Tressa snuggled under the covers. A cool breeze drifted in, dancing over her exposed toes. She pulled her knees up higher. Her toes snuggled into the bottom of the blanket, ready for a night of uninterrupted sleep.

She needed it. Days of training with the other men had left her exhausted. Moving took more effort than breathing. Stillness was her only respite.