Desolation (Dragonlands Book 4) (3 page)

Connor sailed into the throne room at Ashoom. Moments later, his boots hit the marble floor. He strode across the room, dread pooling in his stomach. He couldn't even deal with the mother of his own children, and now he had to find a local whore, who might or might not be carrying Bastian's child, and convince her to come with him to Hutton's Bridge.

He burst out the doors, scaring a half-asleep Barden on the other side.

"My lord dragon," Barden said, bowing.

"Stand up," Connor said as he breezed past. He ignored the annoying questions being hurled at him from behind. "Just stay at your post until further instructions.”

He made his way through the quiet castle, far less bustling than it had been when the children were there. His footsteps echoed in the empty halls. Such a shame, a large castle going to waste. His fingers ran along the inlaid gems in the wall, lapis and sapphires and diamonds laid in intricate patterns. Up close, it looked a jumble, but if Connor stood back and took in the entire hall at once, he would see a series of Blue dragons. The Blue appeared to have been kind and giving in the past. Where had Stacia's mother gone wrong in raising the girl who turned into such a demon? Connor shuddered, remembering the things she'd done to him when he'd been unable to resist. All those nights she came to him, forcing herself on him, all in an effort to raise an army of Blue dragons.

Now all that remained were Connor, Fotia, and Vatra. He'd raise them right and make sure neither of them would ever be like their mother.

Connor exited the castle, leaving his distaste for Stacia there. He'd refused to carry it with him any longer. Instead, he focused on finding the whore—no, the woman—who carried Bastian's child. Connor wouldn't label her any longer if she was to live with them in Hutton's Bridge. He walked down the streets of Ashoom, fitting in as if he were one of them. No one in village knew who the Blue dragon was. Most, if not all people in the Dragonlands, weren't even aware dragons could change into human form, except for the Green in the Meadowlands.

He passed booth after booth in the street while vendors hawked their wares. Potatoes at one stall. Spun cotton at another. Dresses, corsets, and breeches at another. Connor chuckled under his breath. There were no booths for prostitutes. Likely they were the tired-looking women, shading their eyes from the bright sun, shopping for their food. Connor watched the women carefully. His eyes zeroed in on a woman at the herb booth.

Swathed in a dark cloak, her face shaded from the sun by a hood, the woman carefully rifled through a box of dried lavender. Connor could see how pale her hands were. A woman who worked in the fields would have dark, sunburned, and dirty hands. As he ventured closer, he noticed her nails were clean.

She twirled around, her back straight, head held high. Her eyelashes fluttered at Connor. Her red-painted lips puckered. "Can I help you?"

Yes, he'd definitely found a prostitute. Whether it was the right one remained to be seen.

"Maybe." Connor took her by the elbow, guiding her away from the market. She didn't fight. Instead she leaned into him, the scent of jasmine enveloping his senses. Connor tried not to sneeze.

"I'm off duty now," she said, "but if you come back around dusk, I'd be more than happy to—"

"I don't want you for that," he said. Either she'd give him the information he needed or he'd find another to ask.

The woman shrugged her elbow out of his grasp. "Then make it quick. I had a long night and I'd like to get my items from the market and go back to bed." Her voice was less pretty and so was her face once she realized she'd make no money from him.

"I'm looking for a woman who was with a man many moons ago. He was a tall redhead. She may be pregnant with his child." Connor watched, but her expression didn't change. "I'm willing to pay." He jingled a bag of coins.

The woman's face lit up with a smile. She held out her hand. Connor dumped the bag into her palm. "Her name is Pia. You can find her two streets over, third door on the left. Knock two times. Pause. Then knock a third. She'll assume it's one of us." The woman looked Connor up and down. She shook her head. "You look confused. Come, I'll take you there. Follow me."

She swept past him, heading down the street. Connor followed, keeping pace just behind her. He knew Hazel wouldn't approve of him walking with the prostitute. Even though he wasn't the man he used to be, Connor wanted to be the good man everyone remembered.

The woman slowed in front of a door dyed blue with woad, a small butterfly carved into the wood. She knocked twice, paused, and knocked a third time. The door opened only a crack. Connor could see one blue eye peering out.

"What's he want?" the woman behind the door asked.

"He's here about the baby. And he has money." The prostitute jingled the small purse in front of her friend.

"He's not the father."

"No, the father is dead," Connor said. "I've come to help you."

The door closed.

"Sorry," the woman said, shrugging. "Thanks for the money. I'm four doors down. Come by if you ever want to relieve yourself of some more change." She winked, then sashayed away.

Connor shook his head. He knocked again on Pia’s door. "Please, open up. I need to talk to you."

There was no response.

"Bastian asked me to come for you," he said, even though he was talking to a door. "He said to tell you that the night he spent with you was one of the most important of his life." It was a lie. Bastian told Connor he'd been out of his mind with anger and grief over losing Tressa to Jarrett. He'd met up with the prostitute because it was the only way he could take revenge on Tressa.

The door flung open. "That's a lie, but I appreciate the effort. Come in."

Pia closed the door behind him, plunging them into darkness. "Sorry. Just give me a moment."

Connor heard her shuffling across a room. With a whoosh of fabric, the sun streamed in the small window in back.

"I had a long night. I was trying to sleep." Pia stood with her arms crossed just under her chest. A small bump stuck out beneath them. "Do you know how hard it is to get clients when you're pregnant? Some men find it sexy. The rest I distract with scarves and tricks. But it's going to be hard soon. They'll notice and they won't be paying." She sat down in a rocking chair. "So why are you here? Is he really dead, or did he send you to pay me off?"

"Bastian is dead. I swear it on the life of my children."

Pia sighed. "That's too bad. Usually I do my job and forget about the man the next day. But Bastian was something special. He's the kind of guy a girl dreams will rescue her from this life."

That surprised Connor a bit. Bastian had made it sound like an easy way to drown his troubles, not a life-changing night for either of them. "I, um, he—"

"It's okay," she said. "I know it didn't mean anything to him. The pregnancy was unexpected. No matter how smitten I was with him, I would never plan something like that. It's bad for everyone involved."

"But you kept the baby," Connor said.

"Most girls would abort a baby. It gets in the way of business." She rested a hand on her stomach. "I guess I couldn't let go. Maybe I thought I could lure him back to me through the baby."

"Because he was the King of the Blue?" Connor asked. She'd been honest with him so far.

Pia looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Bastian was who?"

"The king. Here. In Ashoom."

"He was not. He was a warrior from the west. That's what he said. When I saw him preparing to leave with those kids, I thought he was a hired sword. I thought he'd be back." She crumpled further into the chair. "How did he die?"

"There's a war going on in the north between the dragonlords. We fought together." Connor purposely left out his part in it. He'd tell her he was a dragon when the time was right. "He died in battle."

Tears glistened in Pia’s eyes. "It's not too late. I could still have it aborted."

"No!" Connor said. There had been too much senseless death lately. Not this innocent babe, too. He thought of the dragon eggs, cracked and broken into shards, dead dragons lying in them. No. Not again. "If you're willing, I can take you and the baby somewhere safe until you have it. Then you can decide what to do."

Pia looked up at him, her blue eyes penetrating his. "It means that much to you?"

Connor nodded. "Bastian asked me to do this, too. It meant something to him."

"Then I will go with you." She stood. "Give me a few minutes to pack a bag. I don't own much."

Relief spread through Connor. He'd kept his promise to Bastian. He just wasn't sure how Hazel would like him bringing a pregnant prostitute to Hutton's Bridge.

Tressa sat at Jarrett's bedside, holding his hand. The mages kept him in a coma while nurses tended to his bodily needs. She ran her fingers through his hair, down to where his ears used to be. Once they’d realized he could still hear a little, the mages had used magic to amplify his hearing. Not that it would do him any good in this state.

"He's well?" she asked one of the three mages.

A simple nod was the only answer.

Tressa stood, her hand lingering on Jarrett's shoulder, glad he was out. She didn't know what she'd say to him if he was awake. She wasn't even sure he'd be himself. It was possible the man she loved was gone forever. But the One had told her there might be a possibility to save him.

If Tressa could unravel the mystery of Desolation and the magic there, perhaps she could also find a way to save Jarrett from the dark magic holding sway over him. The One had said the magic was from over the border. If Tressa could understand it, then maybe, just maybe, she could help Jarrett.

She looked up at her great-grandmother who stood in the doorway, her hand tentatively reaching out. "May I come in?"

Tressa nodded. She stepped away from Jarrett and took her Granna’s hand. "I need to talk to you. There are things I've learned, and while I don't know the truth of it all, I need you to listen."

She and Granna walked into the interior room and closed the door.

Tressa took a deep breath. "I have reason to believe Mestifito holds you in thrall. The decisions you've made since you met him are not your own."

Granna clucked, her silver hair falling in waves over her shoulders. "He does not hold me in thrall. Trust me, we have argued many times, and it's rare he wins. Often he gives in to me. He is capable of forcing me to act against my will, but the love he has for me outweighs any desire to use it. Mestifito knows I would not stay with him if he did."

"But how do you know that's not all part of the magic?" Tressa asked, remembering how she'd felt when Jarrett held her in thrall. "Do you ever feel like you're drowning? Or as if you've forgotten something important?"

"Never." Granna crossed her arms over her chest. "I know it's hard to get to know Mestifito since he can no longer change into a human and cannot communicate. You have to trust me, Tressa, when I tell you he forces me to do nothing."

Tressa’s wariness abated somewhat, but her curiosity urged her to question Granna further. "Why can't he change? Isn't that unusual?"

"Mestifito is very old. Older than the Dragonlands. He admitted once he'd been born in Desolation, yet he wouldn't speak of it. There is such sadness in his eyes when he thinks of his past. He cannot change anymore, or he might die. In dragon form, he continues to live forever. When we first met, he appeared to me as a young man, and insisted he was not much older than I. However, it wasn't long until I discovered the truth. I could have let him take me at a younger age, but I wanted to be his equal. I wanted to be old like him."

Tressa laughed. "You are younger now than you were when you died."

"Well, yes," Granna said. "I couldn't get around too well in that body. I refused to let him make me any younger than you see me now. I also refused to become a full dragon as he wanted. Believe me, if Mestifito had gotten his way, I would be a Black dragon. I would be younger and stronger. I would be unrecognizable to you. This is what I wanted, and he gave it to me. Now he and I rule together as a team."

Tressa laid a hand on Granna's shoulder. "There is more you must know." She proceeded to tell Granna about Decarian, lurking far below the castle. She expressed her concern over Jarrett and shed a few tears over Bastian's death. Then she told Granna about Donovan's plan to enter Desolation, and Fi's determination to go with him.

"I think I need to go, too," Tressa said. She'd been fighting the urge, feeling she should try to find a solution for Decarian in the Dragonlands. But Donovan's words rang in her head. He believed there was a solution in Desolation, too. Now that Bastian was dead and Jarrett might never recover, Tressa had no reason to stay. She needed to get away.

"Go," Granna said. "I will watch over Decarian. When the honey arrives, I will be sure to feed him every day. I will guard this secret with my own life. Tressa, you were always an adventurer. I knew even before you did that you would never be content to stay in one place. You needed to explore. Go now. Find a solution for Decarian."

"Are you sure you don't mind taking over here? Wouldn't you rather go back to the Ruins of Ebon with the other Black dragons?" Tressa asked.

"Mestifito will stay with me," Granna said. "I am home when I am with him."

"Thank you." Tressa leaned over and gave Granna a kiss on her cheek.

Together, they strode back into the main room where Jarrett lay. "I'll be gone for a while," Tressa said to the mages. "I expect you to continue caring for Jarrett. Should he awaken and threaten anyone..." Tressa paused, taking a deep breath, "you have my permission to kill him."

The head mage nodded.

Tressa swept out of Jarrett's chambers without another look back at her great-grandmother. She stalked down the hall and flung open the door to Fi's chamber. "I'm going with you."

Fi laughed. "I'm not surprised." She dangled a bag from her fingers. "I already packed for you."

Tressa grabbed the bag and opened it. Inside were two pairs of pants, two shirts, and an extra set of underthings.

"You're so predictable," Fi said, stuffing clothes into her own bag. "I knew you wouldn't pass up the chance to go to a new land. See new things. Fight beasts that should only exist in your nightmares."

"We have to stop Decarian and his horde from entering the Dragonlands." Tressa flopped down on the bed. “I’m just doing my part.”

"No, it's because you love adventure. Just like me. You would go if only to see a new world. Saving the Dragonlands is only a bonus."

Fi's words rang true. Deep down, Tressa knew she couldn't stay behind, even though Fi and Donovan were fully capable of carrying out the mission without her. Tressa wanted to go. She wanted to see what was out there. She'd seen so many amazing things since leaving Hutton's Bridge. Now she had a chance to see more. Bastian was dead, and Jarrett was in good hands. Connor would care for the children of Hutton's Bridge. She had no reason to stay.

Donovan burst into the room without knocking. "Are you ready?" He looked at Fi, then noticed the bag in Tressa's hand. "No. You are not going."

Tressa stood and squared her shoulders. "Why not?"

"The two of us will do just fine. Do not put your life at risk unnecessarily." His one eye stared Tressa down.

"If Fi's life is at risk, I'm even more determined to go." Tressa balled her hands. "You can't stop me from going."

"That is true," Donovan said. "I cannot stop you. Once I detail what you will see in Desolation, perhaps you will reconsider."

Fi's laughed echoed in the room. "Nothing scares Tressa. Absolutely nothing. Well, maybe carts rolling through tunnels at breakneck speed." Fi winked, and Tressa stuck out her tongue.

"This is not a jape," Donovan said. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gray cloak falling in folds around his shoulders.

"We know that," Tressa said, stifling a smile. "Fi and I both understand the gravity of the situation."

Donovan glowered and tapped his heels together. "When you are ready, find me in the library. We will begin our journey there."

After the door closed behind him, Fi burst into giggles. "Wow, he's going to be a fun traveling companion."

"He's right, you know," Tressa said. "We have to be more serious. I don't want to die out there. I want to fix things in the Dragonlands so we can return home and live peacefully."

"Doesn't mean we can't have fun in the process," Fi said. "Would you rather be like him?"

Tressa thought of the way Donovan's mouth turned down every time he spoke with either of them. He'd judged them harshly, but she had to admit she and Fi had given him reason to think they were silly girls instead of warriors. "No, maybe all three of us need to find a middle ground."

"Fair enough," Fi said. She cinched her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "But I refuse to stop smiling just because he's crabby. I do promise to stop laughing at everything he says, though."

"Thanks," Tressa said. She flung an arm around Fi's waist as they made their way to the library. "Have you been able to get a message to Sarah?"

"I did," Fi said. "At least, I hope so. I haven't heard back yet. I sent three messages with three different people, as well as two pigeons."

"That seems a bit excessive," Tressa said.

"Hey, when you're in love, you do what you have to," Fi said. "Sarah is my whole life. She's the reason I do what I do. You think you're the only one with noble intentions? Think again, my dear Tressa."

Tressa didn't respond. She hadn't left a message for Jarrett. If he woke under thrall, it was likely he would be violent. If he woke himself, he'd know she left him with the best of intentions. The two of them had learned early on to trust in each other. It would be no different now. If that man was even in there anymore.

Fi walked through the door to the library, Tressa on her heels.

Donovan stood in front of the fireplace, a pipe perched between his lips. Smoke curled from the bowl, dancing in the air and disappearing as it climbed. He took another puff, then emptied the contents of the bowl into the fireplace.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Where do you want us to change?" Fi looked around the room. "There aren't any windows big enough for dragons to fly through. Are we headed outside?"

"No," Donovan said. "You are to remain human for now. We will not fly into Desolation. We will walk."

"Walk?" Tressa said, confused. "That will take too long. We need to get there quickly and return even faster." She pointed out a window. "The mountains are too high to climb."

Donovan held up a hand. "Stop arguing. I am the leader of this expedition. You will listen and do as I say."

"We will do what's right for our people," Fi said.

"I am doing what is right for your people. Never forget that. Never!" Donovan punched a brick on the fireplace. He pulled his gloved fist back.

"Are you okay?" Tressa asked. She looked back at the fireplace. To her surprise, the brick sank inward with a grating noise. Then it stopped.

"Move aside," Donovan said. "Now!"

The fireplace creaked toward them, swinging out from one side, revealing a secret tunnel behind the wall.

"Whoa." Fi jumped into the tunnel without waiting for word from Donovan.

"You may go as well," he said, holding out an arm to Tressa.

She eyed him.

"The tunnel is perfectly safe. I swear this to you."

Tressa wanted to believe him, and she had no other choice. This was her only chance to save her people, again. She took a deep breath and stepped into the dark tunnel. "How will we—"

A torch sprang to life in the darkness ahead before she could finish her sentence. A moment later, another torch flared.

"Come on," Fi called. "The torches magically light the way. It's as if they sense our presence."

Tressa smiled at Donovan, trying hard to tamp down the anxiety bubbling in her stomach. Something wasn't right. She could feel it like a dark shadow slipping over her skin.

She blinked. For a moment she thought she truly did see a dark shadow slip past her. One that wasn't connected to Fi or Donovan. No, it was nothing. Just the torchlight playing tricks on her.

Donovan entered the tunnel behind her, and the fireplace moved back into place, slamming shut behind them. "Up ahead there is a large circle on the ground," he called to Fi. "Do not step in it until Tressa and I have caught up with you."

Moments later the three of them stood before a circle of white powder.

"Since this is your first time, I demand you each take one of my hands," Donovan said.

Tressa slipped her hand into his leather-gloved grasp.

"On the count of three, we all must jump together."

"One," he said.

Tressa swallowed.

"Two."

Tressa took a deep breath.

"Three."

Closing her eyes, Tressa jumped. Her feet did not hit the ground.