by Megg Jensen
Chapter Thirty-Five
Fire licked at Fenn's ankles, his skin melting into the bone. His screams echoed through the dungeon, only encouraging the horned demon to whip his back harder. Blood trailed down his arse, dripping in a river to the fire below.
Fenn smiled, his teeth sharp and dangerous.
"Harder!" He screamed at the demon. The hooved beast danced behind him, cracking the whip. "More! I need the pain!"
Fingers trailed a path across his shoulders and down his chest. "Are you enjoying this, my love?" Jayne's eyes narrowed, the red glow pulsing deep within her irises.
"It feels like being reborn. Eating through my mother's womb, slashing at her most delicate skin with my teeth." Fenn shuddered.
"I would be jealous of you talking of another woman that way if you hadn't just showed me exactly how you feel about me earlier today." Jayne's fingers trailed lower to his abdomen. She circled his bellybutton with one fingernail.
He'd left Hutton’s Bridge all those years ago, leaving behind Tressa, just a baby at the time. He’d emerged from the fog and been turned into a dragon, but he hadn't regretted one moment of his life in servitude to the Red. His pain was their pleasure for months on end. On the day he broke, defeated and empty on the dungeon floor, his eyes closed and his soul about to leave his body, they turned him. They'd sent a woman to him and she'd served him a drink and then made love to him while he healed.
Every place her lips touched, the wounds healed. Closing up within mere moments, as if they'd never been inflicted on him in the first place. The pain of the healing was nearly as intense as the pain he'd experienced when the wounds were inflicted.
He didn't care. He loved every second of it.
He'd faced death, and with their help, he'd defeated it. Becoming a red dragon was beyond his wildest dreams.
And when he'd been on patrol outside the fog and found Jayne mostly dead, he'd brought her into the fold. Nearly killed her with his rage and then brought her back to life with his blood.
The others had recognized their bonds and allowed Fenn to turn her. Jayne made a wonderful solider in their army. And when the two of them found Tressa and Bastian, they'd solidified their place in the ranks. They proved their loyalty by breaking the two of them up and sending Bastian back into the fog to die.
They were also the first in Hutton's Bridge after the fog fell.
Fenn signaled to the demon. It bowed and put away its whip. Fenn stepped out of the fire under his feet.
"Now that we have the rest of the people from Hutton's Bridge here, we should continue with the plan." Jayne handed Fenn his clothes. Though they preferred dragon form, their next assignment required them to use their human sides.
"Yes. The queen wishes us to speak with our fellow villagers from Hutton's Bridge." He pulled on a tattered shirt and pants whose ends were frayed off. No shoes.
Jayne mussed up his hair. Hers lay in a sloppy ponytail. "We have to show them we've been living a wonderful life. Make them trust us and want to confide in us."
"We can do that." Fenn laughed. "Our lives have never been better."
"But my brother," Jayne said with a sigh. "Adam is among them. He may notice a difference in me."
"Adam won't suspect a thing if you keep your wits about you." Fenn grabbed her shoulders, giving her a little shake. "Remember who you serve."
Jayne nodded.
"Remember what will happen to you if you fail." Fenn tilted her chin up and looked her in the eyes. His blue eyes flashed to red, reminding her what they were now.
"I won't fail." Jayne steeled herself, letting the dragon inside her roar. Only she could hear it, but that was all it took. Her forked tongue flicked out, licking Fenn's face.
"Not now, my dear," he said, letting her tongue wrap around his fingertip. He yanked, pulling her face to his. Holding the tension, he let his lips rest on her cheek. "We will destroy them before they know what hit them."
Jayne's tongue slithered back into her mouth. "Not until we extract the remainder of the secrets about the honey. We must find the beekeeper."
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bastian lay in an unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't stop replaying the scene in his mind. Holding out a hand to Tressa. Watching her step away from him. Her eyes filled with regret and resolve.
They were done. Without so much as a word.
Fingertips trailed down his chest to his bellybutton. "Want to go for it again?"
Her voice grated on him, the woman he'd found in the dark and dragged to the nearest inn after dropping off Connor and Elinor at the castle. He'd spent half the night forgetting Tressa. His face buried in her hair, his lips on her breasts, and his hands on her ample bottom. She'd been a willing participant, but he didn't fool himself. The coin he'd left on the table was her only reason for being there.
It was fine with him. He’d needed release after waiting so long to be with Tressa again. He was done wasting his time on a woman who no longer wanted him. There was a new world outside of Hutton's Bridge, one he was happy to explore.
"Go." He slapped her bottom. "We're done here."
The woman, whose name he hadn't bothered to ask, and didn't really want to know, slid out from under the covers, shamelessly exposing her entire body. "Sure you don't want one more romp?"
"I can't afford any more from you." Bastian winked, exhausted.
She bit her lip. "For you, I might throw in a complimentary act of your choosing. I've never been with a redhead before. It's like you're made of fire."
Bastian laughed. There were no prostitutes in Hutton's Bridge, but he was under no illusions as to what this woman wanted. He could do with sex like that once in a while, but he didn't want to make a habit of paying prostitutes. He'd be broke before he'd be sated. "We're done tonight." He fished another gold coin he’d taken from Stacia’s reserves from his pants pocket, and tossed it to her.
She caught it expertly in one hand. "If you need me again, you know where to find me." She shimmied a dress over her body.
Bastian had enjoyed himself thoroughly. She knew exactly how to pleasure him. There was no hesitation. No concern anyone would be hurt.
She leaned over, leaving one last wet kiss on his manhood. Bastian had to hold himself back from yanking her down on him. No, he was done for now.
After she left, he pulled the curtains open, revealing a blinding sun. Bastian yanked on his pants, paid the man behind the bar for his room, and ventured out into the new day.
When they'd arrived back from the Sands the night before, everyone was exhausted. They'd gone their separate ways, promising to meet again at lunch and discuss their plans. They had secured the Blue throne, but they had to decide what to do next. Bastian wanted to find the people of Hutton's Bridge, particularly his daughter. It was time for her to have a secure life. He’d give up his position and give her a normal life. He'd gotten off course searching for Tressa. No more. All of his efforts would be focused on finding Farah and building a new home for them.
The castle gates were closed, barring him from entering. Bastian rattled the iron bars, bellowing orders at no one. After a few agonizing breaths, a man in a black robe slowly approached the gate.
"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice sonorous.
"I'm the ruler here. Bastian. Let me in." He hit the gates one more time.
The man's face remained hidden in the hood. "Our ruler is inside."
"What are you talking about?" He wanted to reach through the grates and throttle the healer. "I control the dragon. I am the ruler."
A low laugh emanated from the hood. "The dragon is under the control of Maester Malachi. He is the new leader of the Blue."
"What?" Bastian couldn't wrap his head around what he was saying. Bastian had set off in pursuit of a sexual conquest and Connor said he was going to check on the eggs and Fotia. "No, the dragon won't answer to Malachi."
Another chuckle.
If Bastian could reach him, he would have wrapped hi
s hands around the man's throat.
"The dragon does as he's told when his offspring is in the hands of Maester Malachi."
"No!" Bastian shouted. Fotia and the other eggs were as much Connor's children as Farah was to Bastian. If threatened, Connor would do anything to protect them.
Anything.
Even give in to Malachi.
"Where is Elinor?" Bastian demanded.
"Elinor?" The healer sounded confused. He tapped his chin with one long finger. "Ah, yes, Malachi’s daughter. She is in her new chambers, sleeping peacefully. I suggest you stop your yelling before you wake her."
Bastian stumbled back. Malachi's daughter. No. She was only a simple healer, recently graduated into the upper ranks of her guild.
Was she a traitor? Had she been using him from the moment they'd happened upon Connor in the woods? No wonder she'd been so irritated at Bastian for wanting to fly to the Sands. The guards had taken it for love. Bastian knew now it only served to delay her plans to steal the throne from him. More importantly, she now controlled Connor, Fotia, and the eggs.
She was just another female, playing him like a lute. The idiot he was, he’d played along again. What good were his muscles if he trusted so easily, only to be fooled again?
Bastian spat at the man. "This town has done nothing but bring me trouble. You can have the stupid throne. I'm leaving."
He stalked down the street, seeing the men of the Black Guard ahead of him. The large one, Marden, stood with his beefy arms crossed over his chest. Bastian rolled his eyes. He didn't want to face these men. Not now. Not ever.
Bastian stepped to the side, staring at the toes of his boots. Maybe if he ignored him, they'd leave him alone. A strong hand clamping his shoulder told him otherwise.
"I don't want to fight," Bastian told Marden, not sure if the man would even care.
"Neither do I."
Bastian looked at him, surprised. He waited to hear what else the man had to say.
"The healers took over the throne late last night. It's one thing for us to leave our posts because you had a dragon behind you. It's another for a group of worthless healers to relieve us of duty. We respect the throne, and it shouldn't be under their control."
"What do you propose we do?" Bastian asked.
Before Bastian could react, two men grabbed his arms and a third hit him over the head. The world swirled away into darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Bastian sat on a hard wooden chair, his arms behind him, hands tied at the wrist. "This isn't necessary," he said for the fourth time.
Marden eyed him, his lips tight.
"Come on," Bastian implored. He had to get free and find his way back to Connor.
Not Elinor.
Maybe everything Elinor had done was all a set up to steal the throne. Once she found the dragon and figured out he and Bastian knew each other, she could have created the plan to take power. For all he knew she was sitting on the throne now, planning to be the new queen.
If he’d stop thinking with his cock, maybe he wouldn’t be fooled again.
"Silence!" Marden signaled to another man. "Barden, if he talks again, shut him up."
Barden nodded, his braided beard bobbing up and down. "Yes, brother."
These men were brutes. Grunts. They didn't have a full brain between them. "I can get you the throne." Bastian said, taking the chance Barden wouldn't hurt him after a statement like that.
Holding a gloved hand in the air, Marden stopped his brother from hitting Bastian. "I'm listening."
"I don't want the throne. If we can win it back, you can have it," Bastian said.
"Go on." Marden turned a chair around, straddling it. The seat bowed under his immense weight.
"The dragon does as I say. If you help me break into the castle and secure it, the dragon will serve you. It will be grateful." At least Bastian hoped Connor would agree. If the healers had Fotia, he was sure his friend would agree to almost anything. Bastian knew he would if their places were reversed. Even now he was fighting to set Connor free so they could look for the people of Hutton's Bridge, one of whom was Bastian's own daughter, Farah.
"How do I know this isn't a trick?" Marden asked.
"Yeah," said Barden. "What if it's a trap?"
If Bastian's hand was free, he would have smacked his forehead. He knew people in his village looked at him as if he were lacking in brains, but these two were beyond stupid. Their muscles told him exactly how they'd won a place in the Black Guard. Maybe the next queen should have her men run through a gauntlet of intelligence tests as well.
"It's not a trap," Bastian said, holding back a sigh.
"If it's not a trap," Barden said, "we might be able to get whores for free again." His eyes lit up as he licked his lips.
"All the whores you want," Bastian said. His promise was empty and he felt bad for the women who had to suffer through a night with either of them, but he'd say anything to get free and on his way back to the castle, sword in hand.
Barden nudged Marden. "Did you hear that? Whores!"
"Quiet," Marden ordered his brother. His eyes narrowed. "If I gather my men together, you will fight with us to take back the throne?"
"Yes."
"And you won't betray us?" Marden asked. He tapped his chin with a beefy finger.
"I won't." Bastian tried not to fidget in the chair. Anything could be seen as a betrayal by these buffoons.
"All right, then. I will gather the rest of the guard and we will storm the castle before the sun sets." Marden stood and headed for the door.
"Wait," Bastian called out. "Untie me."
"Not yet," Marden said.
"But I promised to help you." Bastian struggled against the rope. A burning sensation rippled across his skin.
"These ropes hold you to your promise until the time comes to take back what is ours." Marden stalked out of the room, leaving Bastian alone with Barden.
Bastian bit his tongue. These men had walked away from Bastian when he claimed the throne. They hadn't cared enough to fight for it then. Why now?
"So Barden – "
"Don't talk to me." Barden clamped his hands over his ears and hummed a discordant tune. "I don't trust you," he shouted.
Bastian cleared his throat and coughed. Then he sniffled. Barden eyed him, his hands still over his ears.
"I'm thirsty," Bastian said.
"Can't hear you," Barden shouted. "You have to talk louder."
"If you would take your hands off your ears," Bastian mumbled, "you'd hear me just fine, you idiot."
"What?" Barden yelled again, coming closer.
"Thirsty!" Bastian screamed at him.
"Well, why didn't you say so?" Barden dropped his hands and poured Bastian a cup of water. "Here." He extended his arm, holding the cup out to Bastian.
"I can't pick it up unless you untie me." Bastian reminded him.
Barden screwed up his face, his eyes squinted and his lips curled. "That's true."
"Marden didn't say I had to remain tied up." And he hadn't. Not in those exact words.
"No, he didn't." Barden set the cup down on a table and ambled behind Bastian.
A swoosh whispered in the air as Barden released a dagger from its sheath. Straining against the rope, Bastian made as much space as he could between his wrists. The rope went slack. Bastian shook his hands free, rubbing his wrists. "Thank you." He stood and grabbed the cup, downing the water in one gulp.
"You won't leave, right? We're in this together?" Barden's eyes widened, realizing what he'd just done.
Bastian couldn't imagine what Marden would do to his brother if Bastian escaped. Luckily for Barden, he had no intention of leaving. Without these men, he had no chance of getting back into the castle for Connor, Fotia, and the eggs.
"I'm not going anywhere." It was a promise he would keep.
They passed the time in a suspicious silence. Barden wouldn't answer him. Instead, he glowered at Bastian, as if his gaze alone coul
d keep Bastian from bolting. Barden was a decent fighter, Bastian assumed since he'd won a place in the Black Guard, but Bastian knew he was smarter, and likely stronger. If it came to a fight, Bastian knew he'd win. Bastian didn't want to start anything, but if Barden did, he'd finish it quickly.
The door swung open. Marden strode in, followed by a few other men Bastian vaguely recognized. They'd ambushed him when the fog dissipated, knocked him silly, and dragged him to the castle on a pallet behind a horse that wouldn’t stop shitting.
"Why is he free?" Marden demanded.
Barden uttered a few nonsensical answers, none of which were fully intelligible. Marden cuffed his brother, and then turned to Bastian. "You didn't leave."
"No, I didn't. I'm with you on this. I told you that before. Maybe you'll believe me now." Bastian crossed his arms over his chest.
"I'll believe it when the throne is secured." Marden nodded to the other men. They drew their swords and pointed the tips at Bastian's chest.
He didn't flinch, even though every fiber of his being was telling him to run out the door. He had to trust them if he had any chance of freeing Connor. "When do I get a sword?" he asked, eyeing theirs.
Every blade was newly buffed and sharpened. He couldn't have done better himself. They might not have been the smartest men, but they knew how to keep their swords in fighting condition.
"Well?" He raised one eyebrow at Marden, who nodded at a dark haired man. One sword stood out. The double-edged blade was lightly stained with the blood of fallen enemies.
"Give it to him, Kelton."
Kelton flipped his sword around, handing it to Bastian, handle first. He gripped the hilt in his palm, relishing the feel of it. He'd created this very sword in his free time at the smithy in Hutton's Bridge, brought it with him when he stepped through the fog. Used it to kill the beasts hidden in the fog. They’d held onto the weapon all this time. It was a beautiful blade, far better than the one Elinor had stolen for him before leaving Ashoom.
It was his past, his present, and his future. Bastian's blood boiled, throbbing in his veins. "Are you ready to fight?" he asked the men.