by Megg Jensen
"If I didn't need you so much, I'd consider pushing you to the ground," Jarrett said with a friendly snarl. "This," he said, turning to Tressa, "is Avital. He not only excels in fake puking, but he also happens to be one of the best swordsmen in the Dragonlands."
Avital bowed with a flourish, one arm behind his back, the other stretching in front of him. He bobbled to the side, waving his hands in the air.
Tressa gasped. "He reminds me of you."
"Yes," Jarrett said, a smile on his face. "We are brothers, sharing the same mother."
"You haven't seen my nards yet. Let me show you. I'm just as big as Jarrett." Avital fiddled with the strings on his pants.
Jarrett slapped his brother's hands. "Stop!"
"Hey, those are delicate parts you're slapping. Show a little respect."
Tressa chuckled, watching the two brothers interact. She'd rarely seen Jarrett as anything other than serious. It was nice to see this side of him.
"Let's take this to the ground where I can fight you for my honor." Avital grabbed onto the branch, swinging down the tree like a monkey in one of the books Granna had read Tressa when she was a child. He landed on the ground, squatting and beating his chest. "Come on! I challenge you!"
Jarrett shook his head, a small smile on his face. "My brother enjoys acting asinine. But, I swear, when it comes to battle, or even meeting dignitaries, he's the most serious man on the field. You'll be glad he's with us."
"I believe you," Tressa said. She was glad for the moment of silliness. It was good to relax once in a while. To let her guard down. To know the world held more than sadness and death.
After they made their way to the ground, Jarrett introduced Tressa to the rest of his men. She couldn't keep their names straight, but promised them she'd work hard on learning them. She expected them to balk at her insistence on fighting, but no one batted an eye. They accepted her for who she was.
"Today we find the residents of Hutton's Bridge. No matter what comes, we need to save them and find out if the Red has secured the honey. We mustn't let the honey fall into their hands. It will mean the death of all of us."
The men solemnly agreed. Not once did they question Jarrett or accuse him of being on a fool's errand. As she'd hoped, these were more Jarrett's men than Jacinda's. For the first time in months Tressa had a real chance at saving the villagers.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Tressa looked at the group of men in front of her. These were hardened soldiers. Men accustomed to fighting. Men who were here because battle was in their blood. Not because they were promised coin and whores. Maybe they could rescue her people.
Though exactly how they were going to do it was still a mystery. The forest canopy spread over them, stretching as far as the eye could see. Out there, somewhere, were her people. She would find them and bring them home.
And then? Tressa shook her head, refusing to think beyond her current goal. She'd spent her life making plans, none of which mattered now. She lived in a new, uncertain world.
Jarrett pulled off his boots and held them upside down. Pebbles and dirt fell to the ground. He tossed her an intimate smile. "Are you ready?"
"Yes." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "But where are we going?"
"Forward." He pointed to the northeast with his boot. "We're going to find out why the Red sent their kilrothgi to the Yellow. I have a feeling they were after something very important."
"What?" Tressa asked, squinting into the rising sun.
"You."
"Me?" She was taken aback. "What would they want me for?"
"Why would they want the people of Hutton's Bridge?" He slipped the boot back on his foot and repeated the same on his left.
"The honey. But I don't have the honey. I don't know how to make it. I didn't even know it did anything special. There's no reason they would want me." Tressa sat down on a rock, her back against Avital's back.
Avital's back straightened. "The Red takes what they please. They fancy themselves the rulers of the Dragonlands. In truth, the rest of us only tolerate their childish claims."
"Except for the way you all control the Meadowlands. Clearly there is some sort of hierarchy here," Tressa said pointedly. She hadn't told them yet about what she'd learned there.
"The Meadowlands did something anathema. The dragon form isn't for everyone. They've taken a well-guarded secret and exploited it." Jarrett pulled his boot back on and straightened his tunic. "They had to be contained before the secret got out. Can you imagine the rebellion if the common people knew they could be changed into dragons? Our society depends on the secret. Without it we'd have dragons flying around everywhere, doing as they please."
"Control the dragons, rule the realm," Tressa whispered.
"I heard that," Avital said. "It's true. The dragons think they rule. Those of us who know about them and keep them in check truly rule." He nudged her side. "No more talk of the dragons. The rest of the men are coming back from the stream."
"They don't know?" Tressa asked, stunned. "They should. They put their lives in harm's way without knowing what they're really fighting for."
"It is the way," Jarrett said. "It works."
"Then maybe my people should have stayed trapped in Hutton's Bridge. It worked."
"It did." One of the men chimed in. "We wouldn't have this disaster to deal with. Now look at what we have to do. We're marching on the Malum, where the Red Queen resides, demanding she return your people to you." He held up a hand before Tressa could respond. "I don't support anyone being subjugated, but sometimes people need to do what's best for the greater good."
Tressa fumed. The greater good? Her palm itched for a sword, but common sense told her to stay her hand. These men might not agree with her, but they were still willing to help. The world was a strange place, and people stranger still.
"Enough discussion." Jarrett waved the stragglers over. "It's time to move. We need to get closer to the castle. Their queen won't see me without a royal request. Jacinda refused to give that. We will need to be more creative when it comes to entering their compound."
"What exactly do you propose?" a man with curly blond hair asked.
"It is the Descent Festival. As you all know, the Hills of Flame are populated with descendants of the ancients from the east. They continue to worship the fabled Queen of All Dragons. There will be celebrations throughout the countryside. The people will be dressed in costume. They will perform fertility rituals. Burn bonfires. Inebriation will run rampant. It is the best time for us to sneak in."
"You really think they'll let down their guard because of a holiday?" a man named Brandon asked. He ran a hand through his hair, his blue eyes flashing. "If we go in like fools, we will die like fools."
"I had hoped we'd find the people of Hutton's Bridge before now. But we haven't. If they've been taken by the Red, we need to get to Malum."
"And if they haven't?" Brandon asked.
Tressa watched Jarrett's face carefully. He didn't seem perturbed by the line of questioning. She had assumed his men would follow him unconditionally. Instead they seemed to work off each other, bouncing around ideas until the best one could be found. It was an intriguing way to run an army. Fascinating. She'd grown up under Granna's gentle dictatorship. Granna was not to be questioned. Ever. This seemed like a better way to run things, assuming all parties could be trusted.
"Then we leave.” Jarrett said. He clapped his hands. "So, what do you think?"
"Do all of us need to go to the celebrations?" Hayden asked. "I refuse to mate with someone from the Hills of Flame just for a mission. It's disgusting. Their women, they don't..."
He trailed off, rolling his eyes. The other men laughed.
Tressa was curious what they didn't do. She looked at Jarrett, but he didn't offer anything. Was it something she did? Or didn't do? Jarrett didn't seem to find her repulsive.
"No," Jarrett said, slapping his man on the shoulder. "I don't expect anyone to sleep with an
yone they find abhorrent. It's against what we stand for, anyway."
"Life. Choice. Honor." The men chanted it together, their fists pounding against their chests with each word.
Tressa wanted to ask how they'd become such honorable men with a queen like Jacinda. Perhaps later when she and Jarrett were alone he could answer all of her questions.
"What I need from my men is a way in. A distraction to allow Tressa, Avital, and myself to steal costumes and sneak into the city gates. From there we will do what we can to find her people."
"Yes, sir. And what should we do after you are in?" Hayden asked.
"Go home. We will succeed or die. Either way, I don't want you to be in danger any longer than necessary."
Tressa nodded; it wasn't their battle. It was hers. She was grateful they'd followed Jarrett into an unknowable outcome. It was more than enough. She looked at Avital. He seemed to want to help them too. "You don't have to come." She laid a gentle hand on his arm.
"Leave Jarrett to his own devices? I think not. I let him slink off to Ashoom with Henry, and what happened? Henry got himself killed and he came out with you." Avital laughed. "I guess he does all right on his own. No one liked Henry anyway. He would have been a terrible king. And you…" Avital looked her up and down. "You're not so bad. You put a smile on my brother's face. I like that."
Tressa smiled. Jarrett had put a smile on her face too. "Thank you for helping me." She meant it with a depth he couldn't possibly understand. Not yet. Maybe someday.
Avital pulled Tressa into a hug. "Keep my brother happy," he whispered into her ear, "and I will be your greatest champion."
"And if I don't?" she asked.
"I'll gut you from belly button to the top of your throat. If you do anything to harm him, I will kill you slowly. Painfully. You will regret the day you met Jarrett and wish you'd never given him a second look." Avital let go of her and smiled. He winked.
Tressa froze, unsure if he'd been teasing her or serious. Without another word, Avital rejoined his brother, not leaving another glance for Tressa.
Her stomach flipped. She'd have to watch her back.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Tressa squinted, attempting to see more clearly through the dragon mask on her face. The long snout of the dragon blocked a full view of what lie in front of her. All she needed to do was scope out the people at the celebration. Look for a face she recognized hidden under the masks. Or a voice she knew from her childhood. A familiar gait. Anything that would help her find her people.
Jarrett had warned her that if the villagers had been taken by force, they wouldn't find any of them at the festival. They were likely hidden in dungeons far beneath the ground.
"There's always the chance they went voluntarily," Tressa had insisted as they dressed for the festival. They had stolen three costumes. A sparkly black dragon with gossamer wings for Tressa. Two simple green dragons for Jarrett and Avital. Tressa had objected at first. She didn't want to stand out any more than Jarrett or Avital. Everyone had assured her she would stand out even more without the costume.
"I can pass for a man," Tressa insisted.
"You've done that long enough already," Jarrett said. "You are a woman and it's acceptable to embrace that. You no longer need to hide."
Tressa grudgingly agreed. She was a woman, after all. She'd never wanted to hide as a man and she'd only done it to get closer to Stacia in her efforts to kill that evil woman. But maybe if she hadn't pretended to be Jarrett's betrothed, she would still be pregnant. Being herself didn't keep her from harm in the Sands.
Still, she had pulled the dress over her body. It clung in all the right places. Jarrett helped place the wings on the back of the dress, held on by a series of ties. He caressed her shoulders, his hands slipping over them, only a fingertip away from her breasts. She'd taken a deep breath, steadying herself. It wasn't time. Not yet. Work before pleasure.
Tressa, Jarrett, and Avital said goodbye to the other men and ventured through the city gates. Guards flanked the iron rods topped with spikes. In their red jackets, dipping down to their knees, lined with black satin, and black leather pants, they looked every inch the assassin. Even their grim expressions, frozen in a permanent frown, gave them an air of unrelenting displeasure.
Tressa shuddered, but neither of them glanced at her. Their eyes were trained on an invisible threat in the distance, not a mere young woman in festival attire. Jarrett and Avital ambled along behind her, laughing and clanking their tankards in a toast to anything and everything coming to mind. Ale flew in drops with each clink, wetting not just them but the people around them.
No one seemed to care. They were all lost in their own merrymaking. It was the Night of the Dragon. The night before their most holy day of the year. Tonight they celebrated, knowing the morning would only bring fasting and repentance.
In Hutton's Bridge, Tressa didn't adhere to any religion. Granna had told her of the Old Ones, but it all seemed like a bigger fantasy than the dragons she also hadn't believed in. Tressa hoped the old stories were myth, faded into religion. Granna told her fear controlled many of their beliefs. Fear of the afterworld. Fear of displeasing the gods. Fear held the people of the Hills of Flame in check.
Tressa glanced at the revelers around her, who were delighting in each other's bodies. Drinking with abandon. This night was reserved for excess and indulgence, and the people of the Hills of Flame appeared to be taking full advantage of the night.
Women raced around half-dressed. Men chased them, only to catch another woman's lips. No one seemed to mind the drunken orgies in the street, nor did the various sexual acts being performed lend themselves to any sort of modesty.
"Are you okay here?" Jarrett asked, whispering in her ear while nibbling on the lobe.
"Yes, but are you doing that because you want to or because you want to fit in with the rest of them?" Tressa asked.
"Both," Jarrett said, waggling his eyebrows.
Tressa couldn't hold in a laugh.
"Good, now you're fitting in like everyone else." Jarrett nudged her arm and pointed to Avital who'd found a woman to fondle. They both seemed to be enjoying the moment.
"I'd suggest splitting up, but I'm not sure I want to leave you alone here." Jarrett eyed the people around them.
"I can take care of myself," Tressa insisted. "We could cover more ground if we separate."
"The men out here won't hesitate to take a piece of you, or drag you into a dark corner." Jarrett's eyes darkened. "If you don't give yourself willingly, they will rape you."
Tressa's eyebrows rose. "But everyone here seems so willing. Wouldn't they just find another woman who would be happy to please them?"
"Tressa," Jarrett said, snaking an arm around her waist, "everyone who is here is willing to please anyone else. It's an unspoken agreement. Any woman who fights is only adding to the drama of the night. It's all an act. They won't understand if you don't submit."
She took another glance at the people on the street. Some of them did appear to be resisting advances from other revelers. One man kept pushing a woman backward, but she'd only come back at him again, knocking him down with a leather boot that crept up past her knee. Her dress fell to the side, revealing her lack of undergarments. The man's eyes widened. He hesitated, just long enough for her to fall on top of him. His hands explored every bit of her body. Tressa tore her eyes away, suddenly embarrassed. She'd never watched anyone else in the act of sex. It wasn't something she wanted to start doing.
"I see what you mean. Perhaps we should stay together. I don't want my intentions to be...misinterpreted." Tressa snuggled in closer to Jarrett, nipping his neck and leaving a red stain from the makeup his men had stolen for her. "Now let's search for my people in case they’re here. They'll be the shy ones. They'll stand out."
"Sometimes when people are given a new path, they don't hesitate to change everything about themselves. All they once knew can fly out the window in one kiss." Jarrett let his hand fall to h
er bottom.
Tressa didn't respond. After finding her own way in the world and meeting Jarrett, she had changed from the woman she thought she was. She couldn't pinpoint one moment exactly. Yet now she wasn't Tressa Webb from Hutton's Bridge. She was Tressa, a woman who wanted to explore the world. Who didn't want to be tied down to a dream that was no longer something she craved.
No, she needed something different. Maybe she could find it with Jarrett.
They walked through the town, touching and fondling each other. When Jarrett caressed her breast with his thumb, she had to fight the urge to pull him into a dark alley and have her way with him. She had to have him soon or she’d explode. A dull ache between her legs reminded her of the loss she'd suffered. Maybe it was too soon physically, but it didn't tamp down her emotions.
Tressa grabbed his hand, lacing it in hers. She squeezed. "We have to tone it down a bit. It's becoming too difficult."
"I'm glad I'm not the only one feeling that way." Jarrett growled deep in his throat. He grabbed Tressa's shoulders, pushing her up against a nearby wall. He ripped the dragon mask off her face and his lips crushed against hers, telling Tressa in no uncertain terms that he couldn't hold himself back any longer. Her fingernails scratched up and down his back as she pressed her breasts into his chest. She wanted him, too. Now.
Until a nearby sound caught her attention. "Stop," she muttered into his lips. Tressa pushed on his shoulders.
Jarrett stepped backward. "I'm sorry. It was too much, too fast. This is the wrong place."
"No." Tressa placed a finger over his swollen lips. "I heard a voice I recognize. They're here."
Chapter Fifty
Tressa pushed Jarrett off. He took a step back and adjusted the front of his pants.
"Who did you hear?" he asked, a little breathless.
Tressa straightened out her dress and pulled her dragon mask back over her face. Peering out the tiny eyeholes, she searched the crowd for Adam's unmistakable red hair. All she saw were other dragons like herself. People in various states of celebration and undress.