Hunted (Book 2) (14 page)

Connor glided with the wind, his wings outspread, and the
sun glinting off his cobalt scales. Bastian and Elinor hadn't spoken since leaving
Hutton’s Bridge. They'd been flying for ages with no end in sight. Underneath
them sand spread out in every direction. Bastian didn't understand how anyone
could live in such an unforgiving landscape. The heat alone was enough to sour
the trip. The sun burned his skin and the wind only served to deepen the pain.

In front of him, Elinor kept her head covered with her hood
and her head bowed to her chest. She hadn't moved in so long. He wanted to lean
over and whisper in her ear. Ask if she'd ever been to the Sands before or what
they could expect upon landing. But her anger at his decision to fly to the
Sands cautioned him to hold his tongue.

His eyelids drifted closed, but he forced them open again.
If he fell asleep, he'd fall to his death. He focused on the land below him,
sand stretching in all directions. A small patch of green caught his eye, and
he forgot his pledge to leave Elinor be.

"Do you see that?" he yelled in her ear, pointing
toward the strange island of green sitting in the sea of sand

Elinor nodded. "It's an oasis. It might be a good idea
to take a break. They should accept us since Connor is with us."

Bastian nudged Connor with his heels. The long neck swung
around and Connor's huge brown eyes looked at Bastian. Bastian pointed again
toward the oasis. Connor nodded his head and swooped to the side.

The green rushed toward them with the slowing beat of
Connor's wings. Bastian guessed his friend had to be tired from all the flying.
The break would do them all good.

Connor landed carefully just outside the oasis on a hot
patch of sand. Bastian slid down and reached up for Elinor.

Instead of slipping into his arms, she turned onto her
stomach and slid down Connor, landing firmly on her feet. She squared her
shoulders and faced him. "Let me lead the way. The people of the Sands are
accustomed to strong female leaders."

Without waiting for a response, Elinor turned on one heel.
She headed toward the oasis, her hands held out in front of her, palms up.
"We come in peace, asking for hospitality."

Two guards stepped out of a nearby tent, their long, curved
swords at the ready. "Speak your intentions."

"We ask only for a few moments of rest. Water for the
two of us and for our dragon. We come from Ashoom and are headed toward Risos for
the wedding."

A smile spread across the guard's dark face, his white
teeth gleaming in the harsh sunlight. "Ah yes, Jarrett is to be married today.
He and his bride passed through here just days ago. A strange girl. Not so
beautiful."

Bastian's memory of Tressa hadn't dulled. She was the most
beautiful woman in Hutton's Bridge. Perhaps a bit rough around the edges, but
she was the only woman he'd ever really loved.

The guard shrugged. "But who can say why love strikes
as it does." He sheathed his sword and held out an arm toward them.
"Come and know our hospitality. We will supply you with what you
require."

Elinor flashed Bastian a quick smile. It fell from her face
as quickly as it had appeared.

Bastian held out a hand to her, willing to be her escort.
Elinor chose to walk next to him without touching. He glanced at her again,
wondering what could have made her hold back. From the moment they'd met, she
had let her feelings fly free, but now she seemed closed. Women. He would never
understand them.

The guard led them into a tent. The wall was covered in
shimmering blue silks. A fan of feathers moved up and down above them, allowing
them slight relief from the heat. Bastian looked longingly at the pillows on
the floor. They beckoned, promising a quiet place to nap. Instead of giving
into his exhaustion, he reached out a hand to accept the cup of water offered
to him by a woman who'd entered the tent behind them.

A cool liquid streamed down the back of his throat, coating
it with a soft, sweet syrup. "What is this?"

"Nectar." The woman's thick accent surprised him,
along with the flowing locks of brown hair down to her waist. Her skin, as pale
as his, stood out amongst the dark skinned people of the Sands. "It will
not only sate your thirst, but it will also fortify you for the remainder of
your journey."

"That's enough," the guard said. He didn't strike
her, but his tone implied punishment if she dared speak again. She slunk out of
the room, her chin dipped and her head low. "I am sorry. She does not yet
know her place. The women from the Meadowlands are pliable after some time. She
will learn her place."

"Is she a slave?" Elinor asked, taking a second
sip from her cup.

The guard shook his head. "No, no. We don't take on
slaves here. She came to us for work and we provided. But she does not have all
the rights afforded to our people. After all, she is not one of us."

Elinor nodded. "We appreciate your hospitality.
Without a break, I am not sure our dragon could have made the remainder of the
journey."

"He is magnificent." The man looked at Bastian,
his eyes quizzical. "Is he yours?"

Bastian dipped his head once. "He is."

"That means you are on the throne of the Blue."

"I am." Bastian was uncomfortable with the
questioning. He still couldn't wrap his mind around the developments of the
last few days. He didn't want to be a leader, nor did he want to traipse around
the Dragonlands claiming to be something he wasn't. Not in his heart anyway.

"Bastian is humble," Elinor said, taking control
of the conversation. "He is, in fact, the new leader of the Blue. He was
instrumental in taking down Queen Stacia, along with your friend Jarrett and
his bride to be. They are all very brave people." She set the cup down on
a nearby table. "And we should be on our way. We don't want to miss the
wedding, do we?"

Bastian watched her carefully. Her eyes were dull. She
didn't mean a word of it. He opened his mouth, ready to ask her if she'd prefer
to stay at the oasis rather than travel to the wedding. He thought better of it
and pursed his lips together. If Elinor didn't want to go, she could say so
herself. Bastian wouldn't speak for her.

"Yes," he said, setting his cup next to hers.
"If our dragon has had enough water, then I am ready to continue. Thank
you."

The guard smiled. "Give my best regards to Jarrett.
Had I known he planned to marry the girl so quickly, I might have offered him
one last night of freedom with one of the girls here. Now he'll be tied down to
that surly, homely girl." He shrugged. "An odd choice when he could
have had the queen."

"The queen?" Elinor raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," the guard answered. "Jarrett has long
been the queen's favorite. Why he would bring around a common girl when he
could have the most beautiful woman in the all the lands escapes me." The
guard sighed. "I suppose Jarrett is as free as all of us." He led
them out of the tent, back into the blinding sun.

Bastian wrapped his scarf around his face again, and Elinor
did the same. He glanced at Connor. Water glistened around his snout and his
tongue lazed out the side of his mouth. Yes, he appeared to have had his fill
too.

Elinor stood next to Connor. She reached up, grabbing hold
of his scales, and attempted to hoist herself onto his back. She failed. Three
times.

Bastian stood back, watching her. Why wouldn't she wait for
him to help her like he had the other times?

The guard sidled up to Bastian. "Is she your
concubine?"

"My..." Bastian glanced at Elinor again as she
attempted a fourth try. "No, no. She’s my friend.” At least he hoped so.

The guard laughed again. "She is intrigued by you. Be
careful with that one. She is strong, and she may not take no for an answer.
You may end up her concubine before you know it."

Elinor? Interested in him? The guard was wrong. Bastian
clapped him on the shoulder. "Thank you again. We will pass on your good
wishes to the groom and bride." After he punched Jarrett and confronted
Tressa. Maybe then Bastian would remember to wish them luck.

He strode over to Elinor. "May I help you?"

She grunted. "Fine."

Bastian placed his hands carefully under her arms and
lifted Elinor onto Connor's back. She weighed no more than a child, but he
could feel her curves and he knew she was no child under the layers of clothes.

"Thank you," she muttered. Her eyes lingered for
a moment too long on his.

Bastian swung up behind her and wrapped his arms around her
waist. She sank into his chest, then stiffened just as quickly. Connor's wings
unfurled, and within moments they were soaring in the sky again, headed toward
the confrontation Bastian both anticipated and dreaded.

Tressa and Jarrett held hands and walked down a long
hallway toward the garden where they would be wed. He'd promised her that as
soon as the ceremony was over, she was free to do as she pleased and he would
support her decisions. Tressa wanted to thank him, but she still didn't trust
herself to speak. Instead she only nodded, her lips pursed.

Despite her less than innocent feelings toward Jarrett, she
managed to put aside her shame. She walked to the garden with her shoulders
back, baring everything to the people of the Sands with her sheer gown. To her
surprise, there were no leers, no lecherous comments from the men. She'd grown
used to the men of the Black Guard who bragged about their sexual escapades and
spoke of women as if they were objects for lust. The people here treated her as
if she were a gloriously dressed queen, despite being able to see every private
part of her body through her gown.

Jarrett led her into the gentle light of the setting sun,
down a path strewn with feathers and flower petals. She couldn't help smiling.
She hadn't been outdoors in days, and even though the heat was still intense, a
light breeze caressed her face, reminding her how much she'd missed the outside
world. The crowd flanking the path stood at least ten deep. They sang a song in
a language Tressa didn't understand, but their smiles told her what it meant:
they were pleased with the union and wished them a beautiful future. A lump
formed in Tressa's throat. It was so different than the marriage fasting in
Hutton's Bridge where a man and a woman held hands in front of Udor while he
pronounced them husband and wife. The villagers would sigh, knowing another
life was soon to grace their trapped town, giving them hope of survival. There
was no joy, only relief.

Here, there was celebration in a choice made by two people
to join their lives together. Jarrett's hand tightened around Tressa's. She
glanced at him. Sadness ringed his lids, while a forced smile covered his face.
Tressa's heart ached. He was doing this for her and her people. He would gain
nothing from it. He'd already lost Jacinda's favor. Without the queen on his
side, it was possible he'd also lose his position in the guard.

All for Tressa.

All for nothing.

She reached out and put her hand on his cheek. He halted
and looked at her quizzically. There were murmurs in the crowd, but the song
continued. "Thank you," Tressa said. She stood on her tiptoes and
kissed him.

Stunned, Jarrett stood still for a moment, then he wrapped
his arms around Tressa and lifted her off the ground. His lips ground into
hers, hungry. As quickly as it had started, he pulled back, setting her on the
ground.

Tressa's head swam with confusion. She'd wanted to kiss
him. His reaction didn't surprise her. No, what concerned her most was what was
happening deep in her heart. Her feelings were rearranging, making room for a
man she'd only known a short time. Mere months couldn't compete with the years
and the history she had with Bastian. And yet...at that moment Tressa let
herself believe the wedding was real.

The song rose louder, floating around them like a cool
breeze, caressing her in happiness. She'd always wanted a selfless love. She'd
had that with Bastian, at least she'd tried to fool herself into believing it
for years.

Hutton's Bridge was a village with no secrets. No matter
how people tried to convince themselves they'd gotten away with something, it
was rare for a true secret to survive. Tressa knew about Bastian's affairs
during his marriage to Vinya. She knew a handful of woman had taken refuge with
him in the forge in the dark of the night. One woman had made sure Tressa knew
about her nights with Bastian. She hid their affair from everyone else, but
bragging to Tressa wasn't beneath her. Whether it was to hurt Tressa or to
boost her own self-worth, Tressa never knew the woman's purpose.

In all that time, Tressa remained chaste in the confines of
their village. She didn't break the laws, except for one time with Bastian just
after their union had been dissolved. She'd tried to justify his escapades to
herself. He was a man, after all. He couldn't have her, so he'd have others.
She never wanted to admit that perhaps he'd never loved her as deeply as she'd
loved him.

Tressa looked at Jarrett again. His muscular arms, his
gentle smile, and his well-rounded arse tempted her. It wasn't just the way he
looked, though. He was a good man. An honorable man. A man whose intentions
she'd never questioned.

A small cramp in her stomach turned her attention away from
her bridegroom. Her hand covered her stomach.

"Are you okay?" Jarrett asked, concern flashing
in his eyes.

Tressa nodded. "I think so. Nerves, maybe."

Jarrett settled his hand on top of hers. "All will be
well. I promise."

"How much farther?" Tressa asked. The crowds were
only growing as they walked. She could no longer count the depth of the people
who watched their procession.

Jarrett pointed to the right. "Just around this corner
and then we'll be there." He smiled. "Be prepared. I don't think
you've ever seen anything like it."

Butterflies fluttered in front of them, their wings of blue
and yellow and pink coloring the dimming sky. Tressa reached out to touch one,
but they scattered. A laugh escaped her lips. "They're beautiful."

"You're beautiful," Jarrett whispered and tucked
a lock of hair behind her ear.

Tressa blushed, something she'd done far too much of in his
presence. He tugged gently on her arm, guiding her around a corner.

Tressa's breath caught in her throat.

Streamers the same colors as the butterflies hung from tall
poles and flapped in the breeze. Palm trees dotted the landscape, standing
sentry. Plants swayed in the garden, their leaves and flowers lit up in light
blues and greens, glowing in the night sky.

At the end was the most beautiful sight Tressa had ever
laid eyes on. A shimmering lake stretched on for miles into the sand, giving
life to the barren desert. Moonlight reflected off the light waves.

"It's stunning," she said. "I have never
seen a body of water so large before!" Her body screamed, begging her to
run off and jump in, letting the cool water bathe her from head to toe.

"It is our life here in the desert," Jarrett
said. "Without that lake, none of us would be here."

"You seem pleased with my kingdom." Jacinda
joined them on their walk. "I am still not happy about this union, but I
will not have my people think me a bitter woman. If my lover has chosen
another, I will celebrate your love. At least publicly." She touched
Jarrett's arm with a fingernail. "Unless you want to change your mind. It
is never too late. I can have this eastern trollop disposed of in mere
breaths."

Tressa wanted to pull a dagger and slice Jacinda's arm. Not
enough to mortally injure her, but enough to tell her to keep her mouth closed.
Unfortunately this gown had no pockets. Even if it did, they would all be
visible given the sheer fabric.

Jarrett's grip on Tressa's arm tightened. "I have not
changed my mind, Jacinda. I am Tressa's now and forever."

A sigh escaped Jacinda's lips. "Then we will have the
wedding." She glared at Tressa. "If you hurt him, I will kill
you."

"I believe you," Tressa said.