her. Talking to Bastian felt too much like saying her goodbyes to those she had loved before she…
No. She wouldn’t think about it that way. She’d find a way to beat whatever was destroying her from the inside.
Chapter Two
Jarrett helped Tressa to her feet. The gown swirled around her ankles as she attempted to steady herself on his strong arm. "I can do this," she said through gritted teeth, even though Jarrett hadn't questioned her.
She avoided his gaze, knowing it was one of concern and worry. It hadn't left him since she'd awakened after the battle at Malum. He was always looking at her eyes, as if he was studying a strange bug. It was unnerving.
They walked down the hallway, Tressa slowly placing one slippered foot in front of the other. She focused on each step. She’d worry about the other steps when their time came.
After what seemed an interminable amount of time, they arrived at the doors to the throne room. Jarrett kicked them open with a black boot.
The room hadn't changed since the last time Tressa had been in it. Except it was clean. And there were no dragons trying to kill her. In fact, there were no dragons at all. Familiar faces sat around a table.
Bastian. Connor. Elinor. There was another young woman Tressa didn't recognize. Her hair hung in stringy black clumps. Her bright blue eyes flashed nothing but kindness, echoed by the smile on her face.
"Tressa!" the girl exclaimed, jumping out of her chair. She rushed over and took Tressa's hand in hers, pumping it up and down. "I'm so excited we finally get to meet like this."
Tressa attempted a smile. Even that took more effort than it should have. "You're Fi, right?" She had vague recollections of the Black dragon that had spirited them out of Malum. Much of that night was lost in a haze. Her memories of that night were spotty at best. She remembered confronting her father, but beyond that it was only bits and pieces of events. Jarrett had confessed to killing her father, which she accepted. She knew her father had turned to evil and would never return. Besides, she had killed Bastian's mother. They all had to live with their actions.
"Yeah. Fi. That's me." The girl's black dress hung to the floor, hiding her feet. It was almost as if she floated in a thundercloud. Fi dropped Tressa's hand. "You're still not feeling well?"
"I'm getting better," Tressa said. It was a lie. Everyone knew. The guarded expressions on their faces spoke louder than the words from their lips.
Fi's face fell as she made her way back to her seat at the table.
Tressa let Jarrett guide her to a chair. She sank onto the pillows and attempted to sit up straight. She lasted a few breaths before giving in to a slump.
"Let us know if it's too much for you," Bastian said.
"I'm fine," Tressa snapped. "Let's start. We have a lot of important things to discuss and I've been holding everyone back because of this illness."
"I've consulted a few healers," Elinor said. "They've taken a look at you while you've slept and none of them know what's wrong."
Tressa waved a hand. "I'll be over this soon enough. No more wasted time." She set her hands on the table. "Now, what's our next move?"
All eyes were focused on her. Some sad. Some sympathetic. One pair was narrowed. Connor. Though Bastian swore Connor didn't remember his past, Tressa felt he could still read her moods better than anyone. She tore away from his gaze and focused on Bastian. "Well?"
Bastian cleared his throat. “The children are in the courtyard playing with Hazel and a couple of the healers who have volunteered to help care for them. I think we should keep them here for now. Help them acclimate to their new life without their parents.”
Tressa ventured a quick glance at Connor. He seemed only mildly interested, as if he didn’t realize, or care, that his own children’s futures were in question. Bastian was right. Connor must not remember his old life. He had loved Hazel and his children more than life itself. Perhaps he had lost more in his transformation than she’d believed.
“I think that’s a sound plan,” Elinor said. “Does anyone else have a better idea?”
No one answered. Tressa wished she had something to contribute. It took all of her energy just to keep her eyes open.
"But there is another matter to consider too. Maester Malachi stole my eggs," Connor said,