Hunted (Book 2) (7 page)

Tressa woke the next morning, her head groggy. She’d drunk
too much of Jarrett’s spiced wine and fallen asleep on the lush pillows. When
she awoke, a silken sheet covered her. Jarrett slept on the pillows too, but too
far away to touch. She rolled over, her back to him.

He’d kept true to his word. He hadn’t so much as tried to
kiss her. A perfect gentleman. It warmed her heart. Perhaps they could be
friends, just as she had been with Connor.

Connor. Between the shock at Hutton’s Bridge and passing
out in the desert, she’d been preoccupied. There hadn’t been time to
contemplate the blue dragon that’d saved her and helped her defeat Stacia.

Clutching an emerald pillow to her chest, Tressa stuffed
her chin into it, holding back tears. She hadn’t cried since Granna died. Not
when Connor's body had been shredded into bloody ribbons by Stacia’s spiked braid.
Not when she’d left Bastian behind in the forest. Not when her mentor, Leo,
died for her in the ring so she could infiltrate the Black Guard. Not when
Bastian had been injured and she’d had to leave him once again to pursue the
mystery in Hutton’s Bridge.

She’d left so much behind. And now, not knowing what was
ahead. Tressa ached down to her bones. Her heart felt like a permanently
tangled knot. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Salty tears slipped down her cheeks. She could have held
her breath, forced them to stay hidden. Instead, they streamed down her face,
turning the silk black where her tears landed. Salt covered her lips.

Tressa didn’t wipe the tears away. Instead, she closed her
eyes and gave herself a few moments to feel release. A hand on her shoulder
interrupted her quiet moment. Tressa rubbed her eyelids, pretending to wipe
sleep away and gave what she hoped was a convincing yawn.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Jarrett whispered in her ear.

She sat up, smoothing out her gown. Pushing her worries to the
back of her mind, Tressa gave herself over to the moment, trusting in Jarrett
to get them where they needed to be. Once they found help, she’d begin fighting
again. For now, there was little to do but follow.

Tressa grasped Jarrett’s outstretched hand and stood. Her
cream skin stood in stark comparison to the dark brown of his.

He pushed aside the silken curtain. Tressa threw an arm
over her eyes as the blazing sun assaulted her. Squinting, Tressa squeezed
Jarrett’s hand. “I’m not used to anything this bright. It was always slightly
overcast in Hutton’s Bridge.”

Jarrett laughed. “I know how you feel. I felt it was too
dark in the Drowned Country. I worried I’d die in the competition just because
I couldn’t see as sharply. It was like constantly looking through a haze.”

The camels kicked the sand around, their mouths foaming.
Low, bellowing bleats fell from their wet flappy lips. Their stink made her
eyes water. She kept her focus on the sand beneath her sandaled feet until an
attendant offered his hand and hoisted her up into the saddle between the
camel's two humps.

“The inexperienced travel through the desert and quickly
die. My horse did. You nearly did,” Jarrett said.

“I didn’t almost die.” Tressa swayed side to side with the
camel’s awkward gait. It was worse than the horse. She expected to be sore the
next day.

“Actually…” Jarrett’s voice trailed off. “I was concerned
you would. You’re not used to the dry heat of the desert. You were dehydrated
and exhausted. You’ve been pushed past your limits.”

Tressa shrugged, a smile on her lips. “You’d be surprised
how much stamina I have.” She pushed away the memory of the tears she’d shed
not long ago.

“Someday I hope to find out.” Jarrett winked and tossed her
a teasing smile.

Tressa’s cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Jarrett said with a laugh. “Don’t take everything
so seriously.”

“We’re only hiding from two mysterious red dragons who were
tramping through my abandoned village, while trying to reach your lover, a
queen, no less, who might help us. No reason to be serious. You’re right.”
Tressa meant it as a joke, but the weight of her words tamped down all
conversation.

A silence fell upon them. Tressa marveled at Jarrett’s
navigational skills. In the forest, she’d seen landmarks that could help guide her,
streams, unique trees, that sort of thing. But here it was all the same. Only
the sun’s position changed, but that happened so slowly Tressa could imagine
getting off course easily.

In front of them, four camels swayed, weighed down by the
men riding them. With curved steel at their hips and fierce grimaces on their
faces, these guards, disguised as guides, protected them from the front. Six
more guards traveled behind them, dressed as common merchants and minor
nobility.

Jarrett explained how their clothes identified them to
casual onlookers. The merchants wore robes, lined with golden fringe. Their
turbans sat short and squat on their heads. The noblemen wore fine silk robes
with turbans reaching toward the clouds. Tressa and Jarrett traveled under the
guise of a man and woman recently married. Her gown was a bright amethyst and
he wore a plume of peacock feathers on his back, signifying his virility and
dominance.

Tressa thought he looked ridiculous, but Jarrett wore his
disguise with pride. Back straight, eyes focused ahead, his camel only an arm’s
length away from hers. He wasn’t afraid to let everyone know she was his promised.
And while Tressa would have preferred to be responsible for her own safety, she
was grateful to Jarrett. Without his help, she’d still be back at Ashoom, not
knowing what to do next.

A shadow cast across them, blocking the sun.

“Ah, so you do have clouds here,” Tressa said, shielding
her eyes as she looked.

“That is no cloud!” Jarrett jumped from his camel, landing
in a squat, his scimitar drawn. “Tressa!”

But it was too late. Something had already plucked her from
her camel, carrying her into the sky.

Fear engulfed every part of Tressa's being. She'd ridden on
the blue dragon, but he hadn't snatched her from a camel's back and carried
through the air like a mouse dangling from an owl's talons.

The golden dragon's claws wrapped around her arms and under
her armpits, piercing her flesh. Blood trickled down her arms.

Tressa shrieked, her throat already torn into shreds from
the desert heat, but she couldn't hear anything over the wind's constant
screeching in her ears.

Or maybe it was the dragon.

She wasn't sure she'd live to find out.

Tressa's legs dangled, her bare feet tickled by the warm
winds racing between her toes. Her sandals had fallen long ago.

She forced her eyes open, hot wind piercing her eyeballs.
In the distance she saw it: a castle. Golden, rising up in a spiral from the
ground through the clouds. It loomed closer, and with sigh of relief Tressa
realized the dragon wasn't secreting her away, deep in the desert, to eat her
for dinner. It was taking her exactly where she and Jarrett had been headed. To
the throne in the desert, where Jarrett's lover reigned supreme over the land
of heat and death.

Her relief turned to fear in a heartbeat. Jarrett had said
the only thing that would protect her was her position with him. But the dragon
had left Jarrett far behind in the desert. It would be three days until he
could get to her. The queen could do a lot to her in three days.

True, she'd learned to defend herself. But one girl against
a whole kingdom? She'd done it once, but only with help from friends and a
great deal of luck. Here she had no one, and likely her luck had run out with
Stacia's death. If Jarrett had told her the truth, and there was no reason to
think he hadn't, Stacia's reign at the Blue had been considered a pathetic one
by the rest of the Dragonlands. She had so few people to control. So few
resources. Jarrett had said it was a like a child playing house.

Here, it would be different. Jarrett hadn’t elaborated, but
the hesitation in his explanations and the tight muscles around his eyes told
her everything she needed to know. They were throwing themselves at the mercy
of the Yellow Queen because they had nowhere else to go.

Her stomach turned cartwheels as the dragon descended
rapidly. Soon she could see a platform jutting out from the top of the golden
tower. A smooth golden floor without railings. One wrong step and someone could
fall to their death.

Without warning, the dragon released Tressa. She fell
through the air toward the platform. Tucking her knees to her chest, Tressa
braced for the impact. Forcing her eyelids open, Tressa landed in a hard roll,
hoping she'd lose momentum before she came anywhere near to the edge.

She lost speed quickly and after her final roll, let her
body unfold, sprawled on the platform. Two fingers drifted over the edge. It
had been close, but she was alive.

A sharp snap captured her attention. "Bring her to
me!" a shrill voice commanded.

Two pairs of feet clomped toward her. Four rough hands
grabbed her arms, hauling Tressa to unsteady feet. "Walk." One of the
men tugged, forcing her to take a step forward.

"I can walk on my own," Tressa said through
gritted teeth. She shrugged off one and glared at the other. "Let me go.
Now."

The voice cackled, hidden inside the dark tower. Tressa
couldn't see, the sun was too bright, but she had her suspicions who waited
inside for her. "Allow her to walk."

The men released their grip. Tressa's knees buckled, but
she recovered quickly by sheer strength of will. She wouldn't appear weak in
front of anyone if she could help it.

She’d survived the fog. Trained to be an elite warrior.
Slayed a dragon. Walking into a tower inhabited by a queen with a legendary
temper would be easy. Tressa strode through the entry, her head held high,
despite the throbbing in her arms and the blood still pooling at the talon
wounds in her arms. She wasn't a queen, but she carried herself as one.

With squinted eyes, she took in the queen. A crown sat atop
the golden curls that fell to her waist, contrasting with her dark skin. Her
son Henry's complexion had been very light, but his mother's was even darker
than Jarrett. She was absolutely stunning.

Her green eyes sparkled like the emeralds in her crown and
her mouth curved into a smile cats reserved for pouncing on a mouse. If her
appearance was any indication, Jarrett was right about his queen. His lover was
a formidable woman. Tressa held her tongue, waiting to be spoken to. She sank
into a deep curtsy and stood again.

"You know who I am?" the queen asked.

"You are Jacinda. Queen of the Sands. The one who sits
upon the royal throne of the Risos." Tressa recited the titles Jarrett had
coached her on. She hoped they were right.

Jacinda's laughter split through the air like a newly
sharpened knife. "You forgot one."

Tressa went back over what Jarrett had told her. She knew
Jacinda had two sons, one here and Henry, and even the worst torture couldn't
have made Tressa tell Jacinda her son had died at Stacia's hands. That was for
Jarrett to tell.

"I am the woman who has bedded your man for four
years. Nightly. And yet he dares to take you as a bride, bring you here, and
flaunt you. For what purpose?" Her eyes took in every part of Tressa's
body. "You are nothing. You aren't even shapely." Jacinda thrust one
hip out to the side. "Jarrett prefers curvaceous women."

A blush burned on Tressa's cheeks. She didn't want to think
about Jarrett like that, but the way Jacinda's eyes flashed in the candlelit
room, Tressa couldn't help but wonder if, despite his flirting, Jarrett really
did prefer a woman with more flesh to her.

"He won't be here for three days," Jacinda
continued, uncaring that Tressa was speechless. "In that time you will
tell me how you met, and when and how he first took you. I want to know if he
treats you differently in bed than he has treated me."

Tressa's blush deepened. What could she say? Jarrett had
done no more than kiss her, but if he was to believed, her safety here depended
on his commitment to her.

Jacinda shimmied over to Tressa's side. With one finger
under Tressa's chin, her long nail scraped the delicate skin on Tressa's neck.
"Before Jarrett arrives, I will have the answers I seek. Now tell me, when
did he first make love to you?"

Tressa hesitated. Before she could formulate an answer,
Jacinda slapped her cheek.

"You will answer me now, girl!"

"A fortnight after we met." Tressa spat out the
lie.

Jacinda slapped her other cheek. "I don't believe
you." She leaned in closer, bent over a bit, her eyes even with Tressa's.
"You're lying to me."

"I'm not," Tressa insisted.

Jacinda scratched her nails down Tressa's already sore
cheek. "Guards!" The two men jogged back into the room, their muscles
flexing. "Take her to the torture chamber. I need to know why she is here
before Jarrett arrives. She's lying."

The men yanked Tressa toward an interior door. Her heart
thudded. Why did this woman care so much if Jarrett had chosen another? He
wasn't her husband. Why torture someone over it?

But she didn't get the chance to ask. One of the guards
grabbed her and tossed Tressa over his shoulder, beginning the long descent
from the throne room in the tower to the torture chamber far into the bowels of
the earth.