Stacia lifted one arm, her perfectly manicured fingernails swiped through the air, taking a slice off of Bastian's face. Blood trickled down his cheeks in lines, dropping to his chest. Still, he refused to flinch despite the burning pain.
"So you're the one who took down the fog. Mind telling me how?"
Bastian stared out at the sea.
"The fog has been there through my whole life and through my mother's. She spent years trying to figure out how to remove it so she could bring her precious little Hutton's Bridge back. She always worried its people had starved to death without help from the kingdom. She cared so much."
Stacia slapped him.
"I wanted the fog up."
She slapped his other cheek. Blood covered Stacia's palm. Her tongue slithered out of her mouth and she licked every last bit of it off. A small drop remained at the corner of her lips, glistening.
"Now you'll tell me how you brought it down so I can get it back up again before another kingdom makes a move on my throne."
Bastian imagined taking Tressa on the beach. They'd hold hands and run through the water. It would be a first for them both. Maybe a way to start their new life together, away from Hutton's Bridge and everything they were forced to be there.
"I'm going to kill you either way." Stacia sighed. "I wish you didn't already know that. I can see it in your eyes. Those damn green eyes give away too much. That's why you'll never succeed as a warrior. You care."
Bastian looked at Stacia. Her eyes were blue, ringed with a faint pink. He'd never seen eyes like hers. They were on the verge of being on fire.
"Tell me."
He swallowed, the spittle running down his throat as if it were made of a million shards of glass. His lips parted, taking in a shallow breath. "Water." He exhaled.
"No." Stacia leaned in, her face only inches from his, their noses nearly touching. "Tell me. Then you'll have all the water you can drink."
"Liar."
She tossed back her head, laughter falling from her lips like a volcano spewing lava.
Stacia threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his face close to hers again. "If only you weren't so beaten. I could have found another way to convince you." She reached down with her free hand and squeezed between his legs. "You may not be smart, but you are deliciously attractive."
Her tongue wound its way over his face, tasting the grime and blood and maybe even a bit of the horse manure. She didn't seem to care. The more deviant, the better.
Her lips found his. They were soft. Fruity. Her tongue dipped into the valleys of his parched lips, filling them with much-needed moisture. She forced his lips open and let her tongue slip in and mingle with his.
The door swung open with a resounding boom when it hit the interior wall.
"Bastian?"
It took the little energy he had to turn his head.
"Tressa?"
Chapter Fifty-Five
"Well isn't this interesting?" Stacia pushed Bastian to the floor and took three steps back. She raised her hands in the air.
Tressa looked from Bastian to Stacia, trying to suss out what they'd been doing. It looked like they were kissing, but she couldn't be sure.
"One of my guards is a girl." Stacia's long braided ponytail swayed from side to side as she stepped backward toward her chair, reminding Tressa of the day Connor died.
"A woman," Jarrett said, "not a girl."
Henry wolf whistled behind them. "What about me? I'm nothing to sling mud at. Tell her who I am."
Jarrett elbowed Henry. "Shut up, boy."
Stacia's gaze fell on Henry. "You're the one who didn't kill anyone during the tournament, yet none of the other guards seemed to care. Curious. Why?"
"No reason," Jarrett said through gritted teeth. He looked at Tressa and Henry. "Stop talking to her, she's only delaying the inevitable."
Stacia's laughter could have cut holes in glass. "Inevitable?" She swirled around, then sat in her throne. "Let me guess. You're here to kill me." She faked a yawn, waving her hand in front of her mouth.
"No," Bastian said from the floor. "I am."
Tressa looked down at him, her stomach in knots. She wanted to be weak, to drop to the floor and cradle him in her arms, but she was too close to finishing what she’d worked so hard to achieve. She had to put Bastian out of her mind and focus. He was dead if she didn’t.
She laughed again. "You're all so pathetic. A half-dead man. A girl. A boy. And," she looked at Jarrett, "I cannot figure out exactly what you are."
Before anyone could answer, Henry fell to the floor, grabbing his stomach. Jarrett and Tressa stood in front of him, but it wasn't enough to shield him from Stacia.