Tressa huddled on the floor of the cottage, her head on her knees. She refused to look up. The clanking of the skeletons, the sharpening of swords, the snarls of beasts, and, worst of all, Fi's gurgling breaths outside the door kept her away from the outside.
That was the reason Tressa kept her head down. It wasn't fear of Donovan or his minions. It wasn't her impending death. It was Fi and how she'd changed so quickly. The last time Tressa had seen Fi, she was fine. Better than fine, she was healthy and strong. How had Donovan stolen her from the Meadowlands, and what had he done to her?
Tressa had given up on Jarrett, knowing he would never be free of Donovan. She'd left him under guard, which, in the end, hadn't done any good either. He was dead at Fi’s hands. And now Fi was outside her door. Waiting? Guarding? Tressa wasn't sure.
Donovan hadn't said a word since he'd shoved her into the cottage. After her friends had disappeared, leaving her to Donovan's devices, Tressa hadn’t known what to do. She felt broken and lost. Her friends hadn't even tried to fight for her. Instead, they'd retreated. Bastian, Connor, Krom, her ghost dragons—all of them gone.
Donovan smiled every time he saw a tear roll down her cheek, and knowing it gave him pleasure made her sick. She fought against her own emotions, attempting to harden herself. It was a battle she couldn't win. Instead of protecting herself, Tressa felt her will slipping away bit by bit, until she felt nothing.
No one would fight with her. They'd all left. She couldn't blame them, though. Given the choice, she wanted them to save themselves. There was no point in everyone dying. Maybe the Green and the Black had it right the whole time. It was better to live than to fight, and Donovan had made it very clear no one would make it through this alive.
A shudder ran through Tressa. She was thirsty, probably dehydrated. Though she doubted Donovan meant to let her starve to death. That would be too kind. No, he had more in store for her. If she were to have any chance of surviving, she would need to be strong. Despite the voice inside telling her to stay in her spot and wait, Tressa unfolded her stiff arms and legs. She searched for a bit of food or a cup of water, no matter how old or stale it was. She wouldn't give up. Not today.
Tressa rooted around, moving cups and plates, searching for a crumb of bread or a bite of jerky. She fell to her hands and knees, searching the floorboards for scraps. Nothing. She tore at the bed, pulling off the blankets until nothing was left but the straw mattress. Desperate, Tressa lifted it, too.
All she found was a wrinkled piece of parchment. She remembered the time she'd found a similar scrap in her cottage back in Hutton's Bridge, hidden behind the bed. Granna had left Tressa a note there. It seemed to be the proper hiding place for such things.
Tressa sat on the floor and smoothed out the parchment. As she examined the uneven script a bit more closely, she realized it wasn't ink at all. It was blood.
He controls me. When he allows me to think my own thoughts, he tortures me by reminding me that even when I think I'm in my right mind, I'm not. When the castle fell on us, I thought for sure I'd die. I wished that Tressa would live, that she had escaped over the Barrier Mountains and found her way back to our people. She could tell Sarah how much I loved her, and how hard I'd fought to make it home.
Tressa gasped, and the tears she'd thought dried formed in her eyes as she read the parchment again.
When the shades took me, I learned that Donovan was their leader. Yes, he'd been taken by them once, long, long ago. But he had defeated them and taken them under his control. It was there I learned that the leeches he used to drain my dragon blood hadn't worked as he'd claimed. Instead, he ingested the leeches, giving him dominion over us.
Our dragons weren't gone, they were simply his to command. He holds our dragons in his own blood.
I wanted to tell Tressa. I tried, but every time I thought to open my mouth, something inside stopped me. It told me to wait until later. It wasn't me. It was Donovan. He was in control the whole time. And now he controls everything. We have no chance of winning. The best thing to do is to hide, or flee. He won't stop until the Dragonlands is his. I am his, which means I am lost. If I could kill myself, I would. I hate being his pawn. I want to die, but he won't allow that, either. He's using me because he wants Tressa. I don't know why, though.
The words stopped there. Tressa shook out the mattress, hoping to find more, something to give her hope. A clue to undoing the magic Donovan had wrought.
There was nothing. This was all Tressa had left of her friend.
She clutched the note to her chest, taking deep, even breaths. Donovan had changed Fi. He had manipulated her into getting back into Tressa's life. His plan had worked. Fi and Jarrett's mysterious disappearance had pulled Tressa exactly where Donovan wanted her.
She'd walked right into his trap.
Tressa looked out the window. Fi loped around the edge of the house, her head bent at an unnatural angle, her arms limp and her mouth slack. Her eyes were blank, uncaring. Unfamiliar. That told Tressa what she needed to know. Her friend was gone.
Anger washed through Tressa, pushing away the hopelessness. Donovan had murdered too many already. She wouldn't allow him to use her friend this way. Mustering her strength, Tressa knew what she had to do.
Now she knew the truth. Her friends could never be what they once were.
Fi wouldn't want to live this way. If Tressa was in Fi's place, she would want her friend to do the same.
Tressa would end Fi's misery. She would release her dearest friend from captivity. Permanently.
Tressa jiggled the door handle. It was unlocked. She hadn't even thought to try it until then. She’d been too horrified, too hopeless. Donovan knew her. He knew she'd stay inside and away from Fi. He knew everything, it seemed.
Except perhaps he didn't know Tressa could change. That she would find the note from Fi. That she would do the most loving thing she could for her friend, even though it was the hardest thing she would ever have to do.
The door creaked as Tressa pulled it open ever so slightly. Fi's head jerked toward her, the vacant eyes taking her in. Fi loped closer, dragging one foot. Her tongue darted out, forked as it had been in her dragon form.
As she came even closer, Tressa saw Fi's skin wasn't just dry, but scaly. She was trapped somehow between human and dragon, a perversion of both. Her eyes rolled. One moment her pupils were slitted and the next round. There was a battle going on in Fi, one that Donovan had ignited and Fi couldn't fight.
Tressa beckoned to her friend. Fi shuffled closer. Then, with a burst of speed, she ran toward Tressa, her mouth open and her teeth glinting.
Tressa waited until Fi was nearly on her, then tossed the blanket over Fi's head. She wrapped it around Fi's writhing body, pulling her into the cabin. Tressa shut the door behind them and waited.
The sounds of the camp hadn't changed. No one seemed to notice, or care, that Fi was missing from her patrol.
Fi's teeth clacked as she struggled to break from the blanket. It tore at Tressa’s soul. Still, she held tight, keeping her arms around Fi until, eventually, Fi’s struggles subsided.
"Fi?" Tressa asked tentatively. "Can you hear me?"
Fi only grunted and smacked her lips together.
"I need to know if you're still in there, Fi. Please." Tressa's voiced wavered. She couldn't do this. Not to Fi. "Please tell me there's still a chance for you."
Fi moaned, and Tressa's heart leapt. Was this the sign she'd been hoping for?
"Fi, listen to me carefully. You have to squeeze my hand. Show me you can understand me." Tressa placed her hand on the blanket over Fi's hand. She waited, holding her breath.
Do it,
she thought.
Squeeze my hand.
Fi sat still, grunting and clacking her teeth together.
She didn't squeeze Tressa's hand. She didn't utter a word. There were no thoughts coming through their mental bond.
Nothing.
Tressa pulled her friend closer, resting her chin on top of Fi's head, still hidden under the blanket. She thought of the moment she'd run out of the building in Malum to see the horde of Black dragons flying in to rescue them. She remembered Fi being so kind when Tressa was going through her change into a dragon. How Fi stood by her every moment of their short time together. How they'd laughed, even when it didn't feel like there was anything worth laughing about. How she'd felt when Fi had disappeared from the rock by the Wardack River in Desolation. How relieved Tressa had been when they'd gotten Fi out of the catacombs alive.
Now these memories were all she had. Her friend was gone. Forever. This thing inside the blanket wasn't Fi. It was just a body that Donovan had corrupted and destroyed. It was a pawn in a game Tressa no longer wanted to play.
Donovan had known Tressa would come for her friends. He had known she'd be afraid of the perverted Fi outside the cottage door. He couldn't have known Tressa would take this step. Even she couldn't believe she was about to do it.
"You were the sister I never had. I wanted us to grow old together. For our children to play together someday. To know what it was like to have family." Tressa held Fi closer, her arms slipping to her friend’s neck. She tightened them as she told Fi the story of how they'd met. How magnificent her Black wings had been. How Tressa was so grateful she hadn’t died that day.
Fi jerked, but Tressa’s elbows locked as her arm tightened even more. "Fi, I thought we'd be best friends forever. I love you."
Tressa leaned over and kissed the top of her friend's head. The rough wool of the blanket scratched her lips, but Tressa didn't pull away until she jerked her arm, and a snap broke through the silence.
Fi's body went limp. Her friend was gone. No. Tressa reminded herself Fi—the real Fi—had already gone. Had their positions been reversed, she would have wanted the same. To be free, instead of caught in Donovan's clutches. Now he couldn't have Fi. Not ever again. This had been Tressa’s chance to say goodbye and release her friend’s soul.
Tressa's lips trembled as she laid Fi down, draping the blanket over her friend's body. She stood and grabbed the cloak she'd been wearing when Donovan took her captive. She twirled the cape over her shoulders, tying it at the neck. She stood up straight. Without another final look at Fi, she burst out of the cottage, running for the center of the camp.
Before any of the skeletons could stop her, Tressa grabbed a torch and lit it from the brazier. She ran back to the cottage and tossed the torch inside. It quickly caught fire. Flames licked up the walls, swallowing everything inside.
Donovan wouldn't have Fi. He wouldn't reanimate her body. He wouldn't lay his dirty hands on anyone Tressa loved ever again.
"Come and get me," she yelled into the night sky as the cottage burnt down behind her.
Donovan strode toward the burning cottage. The heat from the flames didn't bother him. The skin he wore didn't seem affected. Each time he stitched on a new skin, he lost more feeling. His body simply wouldn't mesh with the receptors for touch and sensation. It only added to the barren feeling in his gut.
So little of it mattered anymore. He felt nothing inside or out. Even Tressa's tantrum didn’t annoy him. He'd expected her to act out. In fact, he would have been shocked if she hadn't. For a time, Tressa had done everything he'd wanted her to do.
She'd come to Desolation. She'd followed him into the catacombs. She'd released the ghosts from their statues.
She surprised him by surviving the journey over the Barrier Mountains. Now she'd set her cottage on fire. He hadn’t expected that. And how she'd gotten past Fi, he wasn't sure.
Donovan weaved through the masses of skeletons as they sharpened their swords and practiced for battle. None of them paid any attention to the fire. They wouldn't unless he commanded them to do so.
He heard Tressa shouting in the distance, taunting him. Urging him to come to her. He took his time. If he'd thought for a moment she was trapped inside the burning cottage, he would have mobilized all of his skeletons to save her. They hadn't come this far together for her body to be damaged now. He wanted it.
Donovan walked around the cottage, finding Tressa on the other side. She stood with her feet apart and her shoulders square, ready for a confrontation. Very well. It was time they talked.
"Tressa," Donovan said as he came up behind her.
Tressa whirled around, flames reflecting in her angry eyes. Her dark hair whipped around her face in the wind. Donovan sighed. He stopped, directing a few of his skeletons to grab buckets and get water from the stream. They would need to contain the fire before it leapt to the nearby trees. He didn't mind losing the cottage; he didn't need it anymore anyway. However, setting the forest on fire would interfere with his plans.
Tressa hands clenched into fists. She balanced on the balls of her feet. "I may not have my dragon, but I will kill you anyway."
Donovan shook his head. "No, my dear. I will be the one to kill you, but it has to be done in the right way. I can't have any part of you broken or injured. I want your skin, you see."
Tressa's eyes grew wide for only a moment before she regained her composure. "You won't have any part of me."
Donovan shrugged. He felt oddly calm. He was so close to having everything he wanted—Tressa’s skin, the death of all the dragons, control over the Dragonlands. It was so close, he almost felt like it was all his already. Like nothing could stand in his way.
And what could? Not this helpless girl in front of him. Not the ones whose dragons he'd stolen. There were only a few people who weren't under his control. Soon, he would be able to right all of the wrongs that had been perpetuated since that dragon woman had tempted him back in his parents' barn. He would kill them all and make the world good again. And, maybe, just maybe he’d redeem himself.
He waited, but Tressa didn't respond. She bounced lightly back and forth, her fists just below her chin. Did she truly mean to fight him in hand-to-hand combat? Donovan held back a laugh.
"We can do this the easy way, Tressa. Accept your fate. Allow me to kill you with poison. It won't hurt, I swear."
"You're worried about not hurting me?" Tressa's lips snarled. "It's too late. There's nothing you could do that could hurt me now."
"Very well." Donovan took a cautious step toward her. There was a gleam in the girl's eye he hadn't seen before. No matter. It was almost done.
Tressa took a step toward him. It was not as he'd suspected she'd act. Her courage—no, foolhardiness—surprised him.
Donovan took another step. Tressa, another, until they were standing within arm’s reach of each other. The flames behind them were dying down. The slosh of water mixed with the cracking of bones as his army worked to tamp down Tressa's handiwork.
"Fi is in there," Tressa said. It was barely above a whisper. "I killed her. Then I set the cottage on fire."
Donovan didn't respond, unsure where she was headed with these statements.
Tressa's head cocked to the side and her nostrils flared. "What will happen to you will be much worse. Does it hurt when you stitch a new skin for yourself? I'll pull it apart, seam by seam, leaving your innards exposed to the elements. I'll lay you out on the ground, your wrists bound by rope tied to stakes. Then I'll pour honey over your body, leaving you to the carrion birds who will pick you apart until there is nothing left."
Donovan cracked a smile. The girl had imagination. Still, she had to die. He needed her skin. "Were you always like this? So delightful? Or did I make you this way?"
Tressa's lips turned up in a ghastly smirk. "Oh, Donovan, everything I am has always been inside me. I just choose how to present it to the world. You bring out the worst in me, but trust me, you did not make me. You will never control any part of me."
"Except your dragon." Donovan clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "I do control that completely."
Tressa took another step toward him, and before he could block, she pressed a dagger to his throat. He paused for a moment, doing nothing more than breathing. He had had her searched. She should not have had a dagger.
She would not kill him. She couldn't. He'd tried to kill himself so many times in the early days, but nothing would bring death to his doorstep. There was nothing she could do to mortally wound him.
"I don't need my dragon for this." Tressa leaned in, dropping her lips on his.
Donovan's back stiffened as her lips moved on his. What was she doing? Had killing Fi completely unhinged the woman? He resisted, only for a moment, until his body surged with need. A woman hadn’t touched him like this in years. It felt so good. Better than he remembered. His dalliances with Magda as a skeleton were nothing compared to this.
Yes, this was the skin he wanted for his love.
Then she bit his lip and yanked her head back, ripping off some of his skin. A breeze flitted across his exposed teeth.
Tressa spit the chunk she'd stolen onto the grass, grinding it with her boot. "Donovan, I don't want you to take my skin."
He reached up, caressing her cheek. She was beautiful. He couldn't wait until her skin was on the bones of his beloved. "I'm sorry, but I must. Someone else needs it more than you do. Really, Tressa, you are useless now without your dragon. Why go on?"
Tressa's face softened. She rested a hand on his cheek, mirroring his actions. Her fingers traveled so close to the ugly hole she'd created in his skin. No matter. He'd find new skin soon. His beloved would have new skin, and he wanted to meet her with a new skin of his own. This one was already beginning to shrivel up.
His beloved. Soon they'd be together. So soon. He could almost let himself believe for a moment that it was she caressing his cheek. That it was she who stood so close. He closed his eyes for a moment, then snapped them back open as Tressa leaned in for one more kiss.
The girl had cracked. That much was clear. Still, one kiss wouldn't hurt. It had been so long since he had tasted live human flesh against his lips. So long since he'd felt the warmth of one who wanted him, too. Soon Tressa’s lips would belong to his beloved Magda. One premature taste of them wouldn’t hurt.
Her lips fell on his. She began to suck on his lip, and Donovan uttered a groan, unable to contain himself. How he'd missed this. Maybe just once with Tressa wouldn't...
No! He mustn't. That was how he'd gotten in trouble the first time, letting a woman trick him with her body.
Donovan pushed Tressa to the ground.
Instead of anger, she continued to smile. "Thank you, Donovan. Your blood was delicious. I feel so much better now."
Blood? He'd been so distracted, he hadn't even thought about the consequences of what she'd done. Furious, he leapt at her, his hands around her throat. Her skin would recover from the bruises. His love would still be beautiful. But he just couldn't allow Tressa to live. Not now. Not after what she'd done.
Tressa fought with nails and teeth, but it was the kick to his crotch that sent Donovan falling backward.
Tressa stood over him, a huge smile on her face. "Thank you for giving some of my blood back. I suddenly feel like flying."
Tressa spread her arms, jumped into the air, and changed into her dragon.