Hunted (Book 2) (9 page)

The next morning, Bastian, with red knuckles, held on to
the scales of the dragon’s back. Connor’s back. He still had trouble
reconciling the dragon with his friend. He’d seen Connor transform more than
once, and still, the whole idea seemed so far-fetched. “Are you sure this will
work?” Bastian asked Elinor.

Elinor stood and smiled. “Yes, it will. You look so regal
up there. Like you’ve been a ruler your whole life.” She crossed her arms over
her chest, nodding. “Besides, if you fly in on Connor, who will stand against
you? No one, that’s who.”

Bastian forced a smile and cleared his throat. He wasn’t a
leader. He’d commanded the mission out of Hutton’s Bridge and through the fog,
but that didn’t mean he should take a throne.

“They fear and respect the dragon, Bastian.” Elinor
reminded him.

“I know,” he said, “and they hate the leader.”

No one had liked Stacia, but with the power of the dragon
they hadn’t really been given a choice.

“It’s the only way to keep Connor and the babies safe. We
have to.” Elinor looked back toward the cave. Fotia pranced around in the
entrance, lost in her own little game. “They’ll kill her. Do you want that?”

Maybe he did. If the baby died and the eggs were smashed
before the others could hatch, then Bastian and Connor could escape. They could
find a way to turn Connor back into the human he once was. Restore his
memories. Reunite him with Hazel and his boys. Then the nightmare would be
over. Everything would go back to the way it was.

“Do you?” Elinor asked again, tapping her foot on the ground.

Connor’s neck snaked around until one slitted brown eye was
staring into Bastian’s face.

“No, I don’t,” Bastian said. He attempted to put some
conviction behind it instead of the grumbling he had in his head.

"You should ride in with me." Bastian held down a
hand to Elinor. He wasn't comfortable storming into the town and claiming the
throne alone. Not even with Connor underneath him, posing as his muscle.

"I can't. I'll meet you in the castle soon, though. I
promise." She lifted her skirt, showing off her heavy boots. "I'll
walk back eventually."

"Afraid?" Bastian asked her.

"Of course not." The toe of one of her boots
ground into the dirt.

She'd seemed fearless every moment since he'd met her. For
the first time, Bastian found a chink in her armor. "Afraid of
heights?" he asked. After climbing to the forest canopy, Bastian was
pretty sure he could handle the flight. Probably.

"If I ride in with you, people might assume we're
together," Elinor said, placing emphasis on 'together.' "My role in
your rule will be nothing more than a healer. I don't want to be on public
display.”

"Fair enough." Bastian looked at the rising sun.
"When should we go?"

"As soon as possible. Once you're secure in the throne
room, Connor can come back for the eggs. I'll keep them safe until then."

"You sure you'll be okay?" Bastian was surprised
how much he cared about her already. It had only been a few days, but Elinor
had grown on him. He owed his life to her, yes, but he was surprised to find he
truly enjoyed her company. It had been so long since anyone other than Connor
or Tressa had made him smile.

Elinor cocked her head to the side. "I've been taking
care of myself for the last eighteen years. One more day won't change
that." A little smile graced her lips. "You should ride off now,
Bastian. You have the element of surprise. Take Ashoom by storm and claim it. The
Blue throne is yours."

If the only requisite to taking the throne was controlling
a dragon, then yes, the throne did belong to him. He didn't want it, though. As
soon as he could give it up to someone better, he'd happily hand it over.
"Are you ready, Connor?" he asked.

The dragon's head bobbed up and down. Under his legs,
Connor's body moved. The ground swiftly fell away as Connor took flight. Wind
blew through Bastian's hair. He glanced down at Elinor. She waved as Fotia
pranced around her feet, flapping her own wings.

Bastian focused ahead. The highest spire of the castle
peeked out of the canopy of trees, not far away.

It had taken better part of a day for Elinor to lead him to
the cave. Flying back would be faster. Much faster. So fast that he knew there
would be no time to change his mind. The townspeople wouldn't see the blue
dragon until he was upon them, thanks to the tall trees. There wouldn't be time
to raise a revolt.

All he had to do was scare them into submission. It would
likely be easy with the townspeople. The guards would be another story. The
elite guards who'd taken him captive wouldn't be happy to see him, but Bastian
had a special surprise in store for them, especially the one named Marden who
had handled him so roughly when dragging him before Stacia.

Knowing he'd get to hurt them back filled Bastian's soul
with a vengeful longing. Without that, he might not have caved to Elinor's
plan. He considered smiling, but then thought better of it. A bug in the teeth
wasn’t appetizing.

Connor glided into the topmost window of the castle.
Bastian hadn't noticed the last time he'd been in the throne room, but this
window was just the right size for a dragon to fly through. With his wings
folded, Connor landed gently on two feet and slowly brought his arms to the
floor.

Bastian slid off his friend's back. His hands were damp from
gripping so tightly, and he wiped them on his pants. A few men in black stood
in the doorway, their backs to him.

Connor's silent flight had yet to alert them to their
presence. Good. Bastian cleared his throat.

The men jumped, turning around in surprise.

"How did you get in here?" It was the huge man
whose knee had so brutally made the acquaintance of Bastian's crotch. He
squinted. "Hey, you should be dead."

Bastian held steady, ready for a fight. Connor snuffed
behind him and spurted a small gust of fire over his head. "As you can
see, I'm not dead. In fact, I'm back to take Stacia's throne."

"Marden?" another man asked. "Should we
attack?"

Bastian rolled his eyes. For an elite guard, they came off
as rather idiotic.

"He has a dragon," the smaller man said while
Marden remained silent. "The law says—"

"I know what the law says," Marden said. He stood
with his sword ready, but he didn't attack Bastian. "You're not from here.
You don't deserve to hold the throne."

"Your law says anyone with a blue dragon is eligible
for the throne." Bastian looked to his left, then to his right, tempering a
smile. "I don't see anyone else here with a dragon ready to make a claim.
I may have grown up in Hutton's Bridge, but I still am part of the Drowned
Country. I can take the throne if I have the dragon's might behind me." He
looked at Connor and winked. "And I do."

Marden's lips pursed, and his eyes narrowed. He tossed his
sword at Bastian. It clattered across the floor, coming to rest just steps from
Connor's sharp claws. "I won't fight you." He nodded at Connor.
"It would only mean my death and I'm not prepared to die yet." He
turned on his heel, leaving the room.

The other man stood still, his eyes wide. His hand shook as
he held up his sword, then he dropped it and ran away.

"Well," Bastian said, patting Connor's scaly
back, "I think we've faced our first opposition and won."

"Not quite." A dry voice echoed in the throne
room.

Bastian eyed the man in the doorway. He wore a cape similar
to the one Elinor had worn. Sunlight glinted off his clean-shaven head. A
toothy smirk peeked out from behind a bushy beard barely concealing sunken
cheeks.

Low and self-assured, he continued. "I am your new
advisor, Maester Malachi. I promise to help you take and maintain the
throne."

"What do you want in return?" Bastian asked,
uneasy.

"Why, to study the dragons, of course. We healers have
never been allowed access to them. Elinor assured me of your cooperation."

Bastian eyed the cadaverous man. He trusted Elinor. He
would have to trust Malachi as well.

"What if the other soldiers rise against me?"
Bastian asked Malachi, crossing his arms over his chest. He'd gotten rid of one
problem only to find another. He didn't know this man and he wasn't prepared to
trust him. "Only two guards have left. There are others."

"My fellows healers and I will deal with them,"
Malachi promised.

Bastian didn't feel assured. "What can a group of
healers do against trained soldiers?" If every healer was a small woman
like Elinor or a twig-thin old man like Malachi, then their plan was doomed.

A chuckle reverberated in Malachi’s throat, the bump in his
neck bobbing up and down. "Those soldiers owe us their lives. We've healed
them over and over again. Small wounds. Grievous injuries. We've delivered
their children. Nearly every solider in Ashoom owes a healer his life. They
will not stand against us."

"You, but not me. Not the dragon." Bastian
gestured to Connor. He hadn't forgotten his friend, trapped in the body of that
beast.

"If we stand before you, no one here will break that
line. With the healers on your side, you will have more power than Stacia ever
had. It will be our choice who lives and who dies. Not just by your hand, but
by ours." Malachi touched the fingertips of each hand together, forming a
triangle in front of his chest. "It is time we used our skills for
something other than the whims of the crown."

Bastian's eyebrow rose. "Who will be the real leader
here?"

"You, of course," Malachi said with a smile.
"We have no need of the throne for our own purposes. Our partnership with
you only affords us the chance to study the dragons. To heal according to the
severity of their injuries, instead of to the queen’s orders. We will protect
you if you give us our freedom."

Bastian remembered the physic who had been given charge
over Connor when they'd first arrived in Ashoom. He'd claimed he didn't want to
hurt Connor and he'd been killed by evil magic when he tried to give them
information. Bastian knew firsthand how insidious Stacia's control had been.

He strode to Malachi, his hand extended. "I will give
you freedom, this I swear."

"We will protect you as long as you remain true,"
Malachi said, taking Bastian's hand in his.

They shook only once, a powerful, sure meeting of two men.

"Now, if you don't mind, I have matters to attend to.
I have stationed three of my men outside the throne room. No one will question
their authority."

"And if they do?" Bastian asked, still unsure a
group of inexperienced healers could intimidate battle-hardened soldiers.

A shadow spread over Malachi’s eyes. "If they do, they
will discover we not only have the power to heal, but also to destroy." He
turned, his black cape fluttering in the air behind him.

Bastian let out a sigh and rubbed his temples. He took a
deep breath, then closed the massive doors to the throne room behind him. He
patted his sword on his hip and made his way back to Connor.

"I think we're as safe as we're going to be. Why don't
you head back and get the eggs?"

The great blue dragon dipped its head, then took flight.
His wings spread, the talons on the point of his wings mere whispers away from
scraping the walls.

Without a sound, he flew out the window and ascended until
Bastian couldn't see him.

Bastian looked around the throne room. Stacia's body was
gone. So was Henry's, the golden dragon who'd fought against her and foolishly
lost in only a moment. He was Jarrett's charge, or friend. Bastian wasn't clear
which it was. The boy had been trained poorly and lost his life for it. If that
was the kind of protector Jarrett was, then Tressa wasn't safe with him.

Not that it mattered what Bastian thought. She'd been gone
for days now and hadn't come back. Her promises to return weren't as solid as
he'd once assumed. Leaving the fog had changed her, and he wasn't sure he liked
the new Tressa.

Still, he loved her, and there was a chance she was in
trouble. What kind of a man would he be if he didn't check on her now that he
had the power to do so? Bastian flung the doors open. The guards stood silent,
ignoring him.

Bastian cleared his throat.

Still, they didn't acknowledge him.

"Is there someone I can send out on a reconnaissance
task?" he asked.

The men's backs remained rigid, their eyes trained on the
hallway.

Bastian strode out of the throne room and stood
nose-to-nose with the man on the right. "Get someone who can help me,
now."

The man's eyes shifted toward the healer on the other side
of the door. That man nodded imperceptibly. The healer's arms dropped, he
stepped around Bastian, and walked down the hall without a word.

"Who's in charge here?" Bastian asked aloud. The
remaining healer didn't answer. He didn't twitch. It was as if Bastian didn't
exist.

Annoyed, he went back into the throne room and slammed the
doors behind him.