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.
Snores echoed through the room. It was the boy. Henry. She’d learned his name when she stepped up to spar with him, only to be pushed to the side by Jarrett. He was always at Henry’s side.
At first she wondered if they were brothers, but if they were, they did not share two parents. While Jarrett was dark skinned with ebony hair and goatee to match, Henry looked like a newly bloomed daisy on a bright spring morning. He was about as sturdy too. The boy swayed away from half-hearted thrusts, barely able to lift his own sword.
He reminded Tressa of herself on her first day of training. She could dispose of him in seconds if she chose. He was a waste. A disgrace to the Black Guard.
She’d sacrificed everything to be there. Left her lover. Lost her mentor. All she’d given and yet this boy entered the fold unscathed.
Her mind swam in a sea of thoughts, just on the edge of sleep. It was her favorite moment of the day. When her thoughts swirled and she could feel her body twirling as her muscles relaxed and she slowly drifted into unconsciousness.
Or she would have if something hadn’t touched her arm. “Are you awake?” the voice whispered.
Tressa didn’t move. Shift in the wrong direction and he might get a handful of her breast. She’d slipped the binding off before undressing and pulling on her nighttime shift. She had to let them down at some point.
“It’s me, Henry.”
Tressa held her tongue. What did the boy want with her? They hadn’t spoken more than a word to each other.
“Thank you.”
“For?” Tressa asked, remembering to disguise her voice. Though in a whisper, she wasn’t sure Henry would be able to tell the difference.
“For trying to fight with me and not treating me like a child.”
Tressa nodded, still unsure why he felt the need to tell her this now.
“You don’t know who I am, do you?”
Tressa was about to ask that very question when a dark hand clamped over Henry’s mouth.
“It’s bedtime, boys.” Jarrett’s head peeked over Henry’s shoulder. “No more fanciful stories. We’re all equals here. We have no past. No future. All we have is in service to our queen.”
“Do you really believe that?” Tressa asked. Leo told her none of the guard felt that way anymore. It was all a power grab for their families.
Jarrett pushed Henry off toward his bed. The boy didn’t argue and skulked the rest of the way to his bed. He pulled the covers over his head and within a few breaths he was asleep again. Jarrett turned back to Tressa. “If you don’t, she’ll kill you. Her braid…” Jarrett trailed off.
A cloud moved across the full moon and for a moment, Tressa only knew he was there by his steady breathing.
“I know. I’ve seen what it can do.” Tressa’s voice trembled, despite her efforts to stay steady. Images of Connor’s murder flashed in the darkness. Moonlight erased them as the clouds continued their march across the sky.
Tressa jerked backward. Jarrett was much closer than she’d realized.
“I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you’d better watch your back.” Jarrett turned, looking over his shoulder. “The men here would kill you if they knew what I know.”
Tressa concentrated on her breathing. In and out. Even. Steady. Not afraid. Her heart pounded erratically, but in the darkness there was no way Jarrett could tell. “What do you think you know?”
“That you’re here to kill Stacia.” This was followed by a long pause where neither of them spoke, or made a sound of any kind. “I am too.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The next morning Jarrett didn’t act any different. Neither did Tressa. She must have stayed up for another hour or two thinking about what he’d said. An ally was a good thing. But could she trust the man?
He guarded the boy, whose identity Tressa still hadn’t discovered, and he seemed close with a few of the other men.
What bothered her more was the assumption he’d made about her. Tressa thought back to every move she’d made since Leo sacrificed himself. What gave her away? It was also possible he was fishing for a traitor.
Instead of querying Jarrett, Tressa chose to go on as if nothing happened. If he told the truth, it would be apparent in time. He’d have to prove himself with actions. Though what those would be, Tressa didn’t know. Not until that afternoon.
Henry and Jarrett stood in the center of the ring. The afternoon air was cool and crisp, lit by a bright sun. A fa
int scent of ripe apples hung in the air, though Tressa hadn’t seen one yet. They were given meat at every meal. Presumably to bulk them up.
Henry jumped from side to side, his sword flailing in the air. Not one of his blows came close to landing on Jarrett. As far as Tressa could tell, he wasn’t even trying to dodge the tip of Henry’s sword.
“Son of the gods,” one man grumbled from the side of the ring. “How long do we have to put up with this child? If the queen is ever attacked, he’ll do nothing to help her. He’ll only get himself killed.”
Jarrett eyed the man, his gaze cutting sharper than the finely honed steel of his sword. His scrutiny fell upon Tressa. She shifted from one foot to the other, curious. “He’s protected,” Jarrett said.
The golden-haired man, Aland, snorted. “Only by you. We did what was asked of us. Got him into the guard. Nothing else was required.” Aland circled Jarrett and Henry, his sword raised. “Why are you still protecting him?”
Jarrett turned his back on Henry. He motioned for the boy to run by Tressa. She shook her head. She had no reason to protect the kid. Not when her arse would be on the line with the other men. Jarrett rolled his eyes at her reluctance. Henry fidgeted next to Tressa. She pretended she didn’t notice him.
“The guard are not supposed to fight each other,” a short, stocky man called out. Tressa struggled to remember his name. Warrick. No, Barden. Yes, Barden. He was twin brother to the largest man Tressa had ever seen, Marden. They shared the same womb, but the two couldn’t be more different. He stalked off toward the outer ring where his brother stood, calmly watching over all of them like a mountain.
Jarrett held out an arm toward Aland. “Listen to Barden. I protect the boy because he can’t protect himself.”
“But you’re not teaching him anything. You let him prance around like a pony on parade. It’s embarrassing to the rest of us. The next time we’re called to attend the queen at a public event, he’ll make a joke of us all. Let me work with him.” Aland feigned an attack at Jarrett, and then switched direction. His feet pounded in the dirt as he ran toward Tressa and Henry, his sword held at his hip.
Tressa pushed the boy backward with her hand and stepped between them, her steel in the air, ready to block Aland’s attack. His sword fell hard on hers. She slipped to her knees, still trying to push him off. Aland’s upper body strength was far more than hers. She fell to the ground and he pressed on.
“Your quarrel isn’t with Max,” Jarrett yelled, referring to the male name Tressa had taken. “If you want blood, then fight for it.” He swung his sword, level with Aland’s neck. A gush of blood fell on Tressa, drenching her face in the copper scent. A sticky trail dripped down her cheek toward her ear.
Aland fell backward. Tressa scrambled to her feet. Had Jarrett killed the man for his bravado? And to what end?
Before she could determine his fate, Henry pushed down on her back. She fell again.
“Are you okay, Max?” he whispered in her ear.
“No.” She swatted him back again. This time to protect him from her anger. “Leave me alone and I’ll be just fine.”
She looked up at Aland. His chest was moving up and down. Alive.
“Why did you do that,” she hissed at Jarrett.
“He cannot touch Henry.” Jarrett calmly explained. “Tomorrow when he wakes up from the nasty headache I gave him, he’ll think twice about ever coming near Henry again.”
“Why is he so important?” Tressa eyed the boy. He was rubbing his elbow as if he’d been hurt as badly as Aland. The sad thing was that Aland was right. The boy would embarrass all of them. She wouldn’t blame Stacia if she disbanded the guard and held another tournament. One whose outcome wasn’t partially predetermined because men were paid off to protect another.
Though Tressa couldn’t hold it against him too much. The same had been done for her. At least she tried to appear as if she knew what she was doing.
Jarrett leaned over, offering Tressa a hand. She hesitated to take it. Her palms were calloused just as much as any other hardworking person, but her fingers were slight and delicate like a woman’s. She wasn’t even sure they could pass for a young boy’s digits. Though she kept them hidden in heavy gloves, the grasp of one person helping another to their feet could give her away.
She placed both hands firmly on the grass and pushed to standing.
Jarrett offered the same to Henry. He, of course, eagerly took Jarrett’s hand, as if there was no other way he could have gotten up.
“Henry is my secret weapon. I paid these men to protect him, though they don’t know that. An emissary contacted them for me.” Jarrett spoke while he cleaned his blade. The other men were staying far away, presumably waiting for his temper to calm. “I need him here and I need him alive.”
Tressa took another look at Henry. She couldn’t see how he could be dangerous, much less a secret weapon against Stacia. She’d eat him alive.
“Stacia has her braid. You’ve seen it kill, I’m sure.” Jarret said. “She just took another victim a few months ago. An interloper from another land.”
Yes, Tressa had seen. It was the reason she was standing in front of Jarrett.
“But,” Jarrett continued, “Henry is not so different from Stacia.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Jarrett sauntered away, dragging Henry behind him. His words felt like more mystery than facts. He’d told her nothing useful. Certainly nothing that would engender her trust.
After the training session, she took off for the pond alone. The other men were napping. They claimed it was to re-energize their muscles and preserve their stamina. Tressa felt they were only being lazy. She’d worked just as hard, if not harder than them, and had no interest in closing her eyes.
Tressa took one last look around the forest before slipping off her clothes and diving into the pond. She emerged, only her head above the water, and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face. The cold droplets energized her.
She lifted one arm out of the water and flexed her bicep. A smooth muscle popped up from her arm. She smiled. All of her hard work with Leo paid off. She was exactly where she needed to be and one step closer to her ultimate goal. It was physical proof of everything she was working toward.
“Go on, give it a little kiss. You know you want to.”
Tressa gasped and slipped under the water. She opened her eyes and frantically searched for shore. It wasn’t far. The ground sloped upward quickly. Unfortunately two feet stood in the shallows, the toes wiggling, almost taunting her.
Slowly she resurfaced, but only to her chin.
“Jarrett.”
“Max.”
“I already explained it’s against my religion to be seen without my clothes. If you’d leave me to my bathing, I’d appreciate it.”
“I only wanted to talk to you more.” He sat down on a rock, his feet still in the cool water. “I promise I won’t look.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.” Tressa forced herself to consume steady, even breaths. Her confidence quickly waned. One wrong move and he’d know her truth. “You only speak of treason to our queen, the woman we’ve sworn to protect.”
Jarrett rolled his eyes. “Stop the act. I knew the identity of every man entering the tournament. I knew his reason for entering whether it was blind faith to the queen, the need to secure his family’s future, or even to get away from an arranged marriage.” He scratched his chin at Tressa’s look of surprise. “Yes, men hate those too.”
He pointed at Tressa. “But you are the only one whose intent I didn’t know. It wasn’t clear to me until the last man died. Leo would not give his life for just anyone.”
Leo. He knew Leo. Even in the disguise. Even when Tressa didn’t see until near the end who the man with the braided beard was.
“This was how I knew you could be trusted.”
“How did you know Leo?” She had to know. Jarrett had crossed a line, giving her the permission to speak true.
“Leo
was my father.”
Tressa let the information sink in. He’d never mentioned a son.
Jarrett waved a hand in the air. “My mother was the only woman he was ever intimate with. It was that night he knew his pleasure lay elsewhere. Fortunately it was after he’d deposited his contribution to me into her.”
He stood up and took off his shirt. Jarrett’s dark skin glinted in the sunlight. Tressa averted her eyes.
“Is it against your religion to see others naked as well?”
Tressa heard the swish of his breeches fall to the ground. “It is a private matter.” She hoped her voice didn’t waver. When the water rippled and sloshed, she looked back at him. Jarrett was submerged to his waist.
He tilted his head to the side. “Were you my father’s lover?”
“No.” Tressa couldn’t help but laugh. “He was like a father to me.”
Jarrett’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m sorry. I apologize. That was insensitive.”
“No.” Jarrett waded closer. “Truth is always the right answer, whether it’s appropriate or not. I had a stepfather and he was a good man. He cared for my mother and for me, and the children they had together. I was never treated like another man’s son.”
Tressa stopped herself from telling Jarrett she grew up without a father. It wasn’t his to know. She couldn’t allow herself to get closer to him until she knew he could be trusted. Just because he claimed to be Leo’s son, it didn’t make him trustworthy.
“I’m telling you this because I feel we can trust each other.” He took another step toward Tressa.
She stepped back.
“I need an ally. I think you do too.” Jarrett held out his hand, but she refused to shake it.
The clear blue water lapped against the top of Tressa’s shoulders. She bit back a response. She didn’t want to trust him. But he was right, she needed an ally too.
“What makes Henry so special?”
Jarrett sighed. “It’s better if you don’t know.”
“Then why should I trust you?”
“You can honestly deny the knowledge.”
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