Read Hidden (Book 1) Online

Authors: Megg Jensen

Tags: #fantasy, #romance, #dragons, #sword and sorcery

Hidden (Book 1) (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Bastian woke long after sunrise. He stretched out and
reached for Tressa, but only found the wool blanket. He clenched the scratchy
fabric. A slow smile spread across his face. Last night had been amazing.
They’d made love three times before falling asleep in each other’s arms. He’d
hoped for a fourth when he woke up, but she was already gone. Probably starving
just like he was.

His stomach growled in response.
Bastian sat up and pulled his breeches on. They were still filthy. Covered in
Connor’s blood. He’d have to wash them later. Maybe Tressa would keep him
company while they were drying.

Running a hand through his ruffled
hair, Bastian stepped out into the cool morning. He hurried to the fire, the
sweet scent of cooking meat beckoning him closer. “It smells amazing.” Bastian
reached out and gave his mother’s shoulder a small squeeze.

She smiled. “Thank you. We do what we
can here. You’re lucky it wasn’t lentil soup to break your fast.” Jayne leaned
over the fire and turned the spit. “Today we have venison. Fenn felled a deer
yesterday before he found the two of you.” She stood up and looked around.
“Where is Tressa? Still sleeping?”

Bastian’s mouth watered. “No. She’s
already up. Not out here with you?”

Jayne shook her head. “Maybe she took
a walk with Fenn.”

“Who took a walk with me?” Fenn
asked, walking into the clearing from the tight thicket of trees, an axe hefted
over one shoulder and firewood tucked under the other arm.

“Tressa.” Bastian sat down on the
log. “Is she with you?”

Fenn didn’t answer. He set down the
axe next to the pile of firewood and carefully stacked the rest on top. “She
didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Bastian asked. He
popped a piece of venison into his mouth. He wasn’t quite sure what venison
was, but he liked it. A little dry. Nothing like the meat he’d grown up on
– pigs and cows were their only source – but it was better than
nothing. He licked the juice off of his fingertips.

Fenn stared at Bastian. “I thought
for sure she’d tell you before she left…”

“Left?” Bastian sat up. “What do you
mean left? Where did she go?”

Fenn looked back at the forest. “Last
night she and I had a talk.”

“Yes?” Bastian stood. He stalked over
to Fenn. “What about?”

“She was concerned for your safety,
Bastian.” Fenn reached down and plucked off a piece of venison for himself. He
blew on it, the steam wafting in front of Bastian’s face.

“Where is she?” He held back from
grabbing
Fenn’s
shoulders and shaking him. Fenn was
Tressa’s father. He deserved respect for that, though Bastian’s temper was
rising and he wanted answers.

“She went back into the fog.”

Jayne gasped and dropped the rest of
the venison she’d been cooking into the fire. “Oh no!” She wrapped her hand
inside her dress and tried to fish it out without burning herself.

Bastian reached in, grabbed the meat,
and pulled it out, quickly dropping it on the dirt. Then he looked back to
Tressa’s father. His face was sad. Eyebrows furrowed. Corners of his mouth
turned down.

“You’re lying. She wouldn’t do that. She
wouldn’t leave without me.” Tressa had sworn that last night while they made
love. She’d said they’d always be together. That she loved him. That they’d
work through this together.

Fenn shook his head. “I’m sorry. I
saw her leave. She called the owl.”


Nerak
?”
Bastian asked.

“Yes,
Nerak
.
They left together, heading for Hutton’s Bridge.”

Bastian kicked the log he’d been
sitting on. It rolled a few inches closer to the fire. His mother placed a hand
on his arm, but he shrugged it off. “Damn her!” He spun around and stared at
Fenn. “Why? Did she give a reason for this madness?”

“She said she could sneak through the
forest with the owl. That she could find her way back and lead the people out.”
Fenn sighed. “She was worried you would be hurt like your friend Connor. She
said she couldn’t stand to lose you like she lost him.” He paused and took a
deep breath. “I told her to tell you before she left. I begged her to.”

“She didn’t. Obviously.” Anger swept
through him. He clenched his fists, attempting to stop the tremors. “How long
ago was this?
Early this morning?
Late
last night?
When?”

“Late last night.” Fenn shook the
dirt off a piece of venison,
then
popped it in his
mouth. “She came outside when I was putting out the fire for the night. We had
a nice talk about home, but then she started telling me how guilty she felt
about Connor’s death.”

“I thought we were going to find
medicine first.” Bastian paced, trampling the grass underfoot. “This doesn’t
make any sense. Why would she just change her mind and leave for Hutton’s
Bridge?”

“She’s a very strong-willed girl. I’m
proud of her.” Fenn locked eyes with Bastian. “She was doing this to save you.”

“I don’t need saving.” Bastian picked
up a stick and hurled it toward the forest. “I’m going after her.”

“It’s not wise, Bastian,” Fenn said.
“You should wait here. You cannot see in the fog like Tressa can with the aid
of that owl. Just give her a few days. Hutton’s Bridge isn’t far. It’s possible
she can sneak back and get some people out of there quickly. Give her time.”

“This is ridiculous.” Bastian stalked
back toward the cottage. He shoved his belongings back into his pack. The same
one he’d unpacked the night before.

It was obvious now what he hadn’t
noticed earlier. All of Tressa’s things were gone.
Her bag,
her clothes.
It wasn’t much, but her absence now screamed at him. He
wanted to kick himself for not noticing before. It would have saved him
precious time.

Bastian’s hands shook. She was out
there, alone. Well, with that stupid owl, but the bird wouldn’t do anything to
help her if that beast came sniffing around again. He kicked the table. Hard.
His toe throbbed. He kicked it again. And again until the leg snapped and the
table listed to the side.

A knock at the door gave him pause.
“Who is it?”

“Your mother. Can I come in?”

He flung the door open. “You can’t
talk me out of leaving.”

“I’m not here to do that.” She
glanced at the table, but didn’t say a word about it. “I wanted to tell you
goodbye. The last time we parted, you were only a small child. I promised I’d
come back for you and I didn’t.” Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes.

Bastian reached out and she slipped
into his arms. “It’s okay. Someone had to go every year.”

“I didn’t volunteer. Not like Fenn
did.”

He wanted to tell her he knew, but he
didn’t. No one would ever talk about his mother after she was gone. It was as
if she’d never existed. A year later his father died and his Uncle Adam raised
him.

She stepped back and grasped
Bastian’s hands. “There’s something I want to show you before you leave.” She
pulled up the sleeve of her dress. Three long scars ran the length of it,
puckered and silvered with age.

“What gave you those?” He ran a
finger along the length of them.

“The beast that hides in the fog.
When I crawled out, Fenn found me. He stopped the bleeding, otherwise I might
have died.” She slid the sleeve down. “I wanted to show you this to give you
hope. I survived. Tressa will too. And you will come back.” She smiled, her
eyes hopeful.

“I will. I promise.” Bastian kissed
his mother on the top of her head. “I need to leave now, though. I don’t want
to waste more time.”

“I understand. I’ll see you again
soon, Son.”

Bastian nodded and left the cottage.
He took a deep breath and headed through the encampment and into the forest.

***

“They’re both gone now.” Jayne said to
Fenn. They had watched Bastian’s back as he entered the forest.

He wrapped an arm around her waist
and kissed her cheek. “I don’t think we’ll ever see either of them again.”

“I hope you’re right.” She leaned in,
resting her head on his shoulder. “At least the owl didn’t make any noise when
I killed it.”

“Haven’t had owl wings for supper in
a long time. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Fenn.”

“Oh,” he said, pulling something out
of his pocket. “Tressa left me a jar of honey.”

Jane’s eyes widened. She blinked. A
black slit tore through her blue eyes, changing them to red. She licked her
lips with a forked tongue. “We’ve waited many years for this.”

“Our time is about to come.” Fenn
smiled and took her into his arms.

Chapter Twenty
-Seven

His eyelids felt heavy, like small bags of sand held
them closed. Slowly, carefully he opened them. A tearing sensation forced tears
into the corner of his eyes, but he didn’t stop. With each miniscule movement,
he fought to regain his sight and his consciousness.

He knew he’d been out. For how long,
he was unsure. He attempted to swallow. The saliva ripped skin on its way down
his throat, taking away the sensation of death. Pain was welcome. It screamed
in his ear, forcing him to believe he was alive, even though every sense told
him he wasn’t.

He remembered dying. The pain. The
blood. The last moment he heard anything and the white light that met him at
the edge. He’d accepted it.

And now he was breathing again. Not
easily, but the wind of life flowed through his body.

He felt his body with a light touch.
The blood and flesh that had been stripped away from him so fiercely had
healed. His skin was smooth, unblemished, and softer than that of his children.

His heart leapt. He had children. A
wife he loved with all of his being. He’d left her behind.
But
why?

“Because she didn’t love you anymore.
She took another lover and cast you out into the world, penniless and
forsaken.”

The woman’s voice sounded familiar,
but he couldn’t place it. It dripped with honey and the promise of sunshine. It
was kind. It was truthful.

No wonder his heart pained him so
much. The woman he’d loved sent him away.

“You stumbled into a forest
surrounded by fog. A great beast tore you apart. I found you. I nursed you back
to health.” Fingertips lightly grazed his forehead.

Warm. Soft. Comforting.

He vaguely remembered the forest and
the fog, thicker than the wool of the clothes he wore. Clothes? He’d touched
his own body. His skin. There were no clothes. Shame spread over him. No woman,
other than his wife and his mother, had seen him without clothing.

“You are beautiful. Don’t be embarrassed.”
A silken blanket spread across him.

He was grateful. He wanted to thank
her, but he still couldn’t speak. His lips were spread apart ever so slightly.
Not one sound emerged.

“You don’t have to talk,
sweetling
. I can hear you. We have a connection, deeper
than any you’ve ever had with anyone else.” She placed a hand under his back, helping
him to sit up.

His legs swung over to the side and
the blanket fell to his waist, covering the most private part of him. That part
he’d kept only for the woman he loved. The one who became his wife and bore his
children. The one he swore he’d return to, no matter how difficult. If the
voice was to be believed, his wife no longer wanted him.

Memories of dense fog and the snarling
of a beast coming after him haunted him. He knew they were true memories. The
rest was a blur.

“You’ve blocked out the pain.” She
stroked his hair. “It’s okay, my darling. Eventually it’ll all come back.”

He looked at the woman next to him.
Her long dark braid fell behind her back, nearly touching the floor. It
sparkled in the dim light. Where was he? The walls dripped. Stalactites clung
to the ceiling.
A cave, then.
That explained the
moistness in the air and the faint scent of dirt.

She wore a gown of blue. Light
bounced off of it, blinding him every time he looked at her. Dazzling.
Devastatingly beautiful.

The woman’s hand rested under his
chin. A nudge. He looked into her eyes.
Deep pools of
blackness.
The azure iris of her eye slit in a
vertical line.

“You have no idea how grateful I am
that you have woken from your sleep. Your injuries were extensive. Everyone
else thought you dead. I am the only one who believed you could be brought back
to life.”

He was grateful to her too. Though
without his wife, he wasn’t sure if life was worth living.

“Life can be so much more. You are
young. Don’t give up so easily.” She traced a line down his face to his lips.
Her finger lingered there, only a moment, before she drew it back.

He licked his lips. The metallic
taste of blood mingled with the sweetness of honey. He swallowed. Looking at
her again, she appeared even more beautiful. Radiant.

Her eyelids lowered, her lashes
fluttering. “I’m pleased you think I’m attractive.”

Despite wanting to fight it, he found
himself being pulled toward her. With the passing of every moment, the tender
memories of his wife faded, obstructed by the woman in front of him.

“Yes, that’s right. I feel the same
pull to you. It’s only natural. I’ve grown to love you as well.”

Love. It was a word he’d never used
lightly. He’d sworn to use it only for one woman. But she’d spurned him. Left
him to die.

The woman sashayed in front of him.
She nudged his legs apart, stepping between them. Her hands rested on his
stomach, just above the blanket that still covered him.

“I want you,” she whispered in his
ear, her lips tickling the edge of his earlobe.

He couldn’t form the words to answer.
He didn’t need to. With a sudden burst of energy, he reached out, cupping one
breast in his hand. She moaned and bit his ear.

The woman pushed him back down on the
table. She grabbed the blanket and flung it to the ground. Straddling his
waist, she ground into his obvious arousal.

“Now you are mine, Connor.”

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