Tressa nodded, but Mariah didn’t wait to see what she said. The baby’s needs were more important. Tressa understood that. It didn’t make it any easier, though. She’d slowly grown away from all of her friends as they coupled and had babies. They said Tressa couldn’t understand their lives anymore. She wasn’t sure any of them ever gave her a chance.
With a shake of her head, Tressa threaded her way through the gathered crowds. She bumped elbows, but before she could apologize, she was pulled to the side. Connor had a strong grip on her arm. Tressa didn’t struggle. If he needed to talk to her, then she was more than willing to listen.
“Don’t go over there,” he whispered in her ear. Connor tugged lightly on her arm, pulling her to the side of the village hall. They stood in the shadow of the tallest building in the village, hidden from any prying eyes.
“What’s going on?”
“Three more are dead. There’s some kind of plague spreading. No one knows where it came from.”
“Why are you pulling me to the side to tell me this? If everyone knows, why all the whispering?” Tressa knew Connor didn’t do anything without good reason. He was solid, dependable. The last person to overreact to anything.
“Some are blaming you.”
Tressa took in a breath. “Me? What could this possibly have to do with me?” Her hand fluttered over her chest. A few years ago, another illness had spread through the village. One of the men who tended the cattle had purposely let the villagers eat tainted meat. Only after people had died did he confess his sin. He’d believed no one would get hurt, even though he’d seen the sores on the cattle before slaughtering it.
In a village with little in the way of medicine, health was held as one of the most important things to maintain. One terrible plague could kill them all.
“Since Sophia fell sick and died the night before you were supposed to leave, the whispers say that you poisoned her in an effort to save yourself. Everyone knows how Udor looks at you. He’s your only salvation from the fog.”
Anger swept through Tressa’s veins, setting her heart on fire. “Anyone who thinks I would kill Granna to avoid the fog is crazy. I would never do that!”
“I know that. You know that.” Connor shook his head and ran his fingers through his sandy hair. “But not all of them know that.”
Tressa knew that was true. Sophia was the only remaining person who was alive when the fog descended. Some people revered her. Others mistrusted her. No one knew the truth anymore. At some point, history morphed into fable. The ramblings of one old woman were seen less as fact than mythology—a mythology that permeated the one tradition everyone feared.
“I would have left. I prefer that to one moment in Udor’s arms.”
Connor laughed, muffling it behind a hand. “I don’t think any of us could stand that, Tressa.” He slipped an arm around her shoulder. “Look, I will protect you as best as I can. I’ve already defended you more than once. You can count on me to be here for you.”
Tressa nodded, grateful she had such a good friend. She was also thrilled his first coupling had produced a child.
“Is Hazel okay with that?”
Connor nodded. “She understands. She was already prepared for me to leave with you and Geoff today. Unlike some people, Hazel believed Sophia. She wants our children to grow up outside of this village. If I can be one of the people who brings that about, then there’s nothing I could do to make her prouder.”
“You have a good woman, Connor.” Tressa’s heart squeezed. She wanted to be that kind of partner for someone. Maybe someday.
A blush spread across Connor’s pale cheeks. He knew how lucky he was too. It wasn’t often that true love sprung forth from a chance coupling.
“You do know Udor said we don’t have to leave now.”
Connor’s eyes flitted over to the gathering crowd. “I know. He came by late last night and told me. I didn’t get a wink of sleep.”
“Why?” Tressa didn’t sleep well either, plagued by disturbing dreams. Sometimes she felt like dreaming was just her mind working on all of her problems and fears. She certainly had enough to keep her busy right now between Granna’s death and Udor’s threats.
Connor shrugged. “I guess I’m not sure how I feel. I’ve been preparing myself, mentally and physically, to leave. The last few months have been hard, but I was ready.” He tapped his head and then his heart.
“I wish I was more like you. I’ve done nothing but worry. Probably because Granna wouldn’t stop talking about it every day. She was just as proud of me as Hazel is of you. Except I felt like it was a death sentence. I’ve done little to prepare.” A small, nervous laugh escaped her lips. “I guess I would have been dead weight to you and Geoff.”
“Oh, Tressa, you’re never dead weight. You’re twice as clever as I am in a tight spot.
Tressa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I could weave a belt out of grass. Helpful, indeed.”
A keen rose out of the crowd on the other side of the building. A group of screams and clanging of swords followed.
“What the —”
Connor took off running, with Tressa on his heels.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tressa turned the corner of the village hall, out of breath. Arms were never raised in Hutton’s Bridge. In fact, as far as she knew, they were kept locked up in the village hall. No one had a reason to fight against anyone else in her little village. The scratch of steel on steel halted her in her tracks.
Connor ran ahead. “Bastian!”
Tressa stood on her toes, peering over the swarms of people watching the fight none of them had bothered to stop. Connor leapt onto Bastian’s back, wrapping his arms under Bastian’s, yanking him backward.
“Put it down,” he begged his friend. Bastian had Connor by a few inches and a few dozen pounds. His muscles bulged, straining against Connor’s unrelenting tugging. The sword he held was clean, unblemished. It was a virgin blade, never used in battle.
Tressa’s stomach sank to her toes. No one was allowed to create new weapons. There were more than enough stored in the armory. Bastian’s work in the forge was supposed to focus solely on essentials needed for the village, not on the production of weapons. He would be disciplined harshly. The stocks or maybe banishment into the fog. It depended on the elders’ moods and Udor’s sense of mercy.
Bastian tossed the sword at the other man. Tressa couldn’t remember his name, but he was one of the many who worked in the fields, planting and harvesting the food they relied on so heavily. The man went back to guarding the three bodies lying prone for the viewing.
“I better not hear another word out of your mouth,” Bastian said with a snarl in his throat. “You’ll pay.” Redness crept up his neck, matching the fiery hair on his head.
The other man laughed. “You’re the one who’s going to pay, boy. Where did you get that sword?”
“None of your concern.” Bastian shrugged Connor off. He probably could have thrown him easily from the start, but he and Connor were great friends. Bastian knew better than to hurt those on his side.
Connor clapped Bastian on the shoulder. “Let’s take a walk, okay?”
Tressa strained to hear the answer, but couldn’t over the sound of the crowd. They’d gone from silent, watching the fight, to talking amongst themselves again. Crisis averted, they went back to worrying about the illness and the three dead. A few looked askance at Tressa. She remembered Connor’s warning and slipped off into the shadows again.
She wrung her hands, not sure where to go or what to do. She could hide in her cottage until the anger waned. No one would think Tressa had done anything to purposely start an illness, not even if it meant cancelling the group set to leave through the fog. It was a stretch, even for the most paranoid person.
Looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was following, Tressa rounded the corner of the building, only to run into Bastian’s chest. His hands grabbed her upper arms, helping her stay upright.
“Sorry
.” Tressa stepped backward, stumbling into the side of the building. Every time Bastian touched her, it was like being struck by lightning.
“We need to talk to you.” Only then did she notice Connor standing next to Bastian.
“Oh, okay, um, I was just heading back to my cottage. Do you want to come with me?”
Connor nodded. Bastian followed a few paces behind the two of them. To anyone who noticed, it might look like Bastian was simply moving in the same direction as Connor and Tressa, not walking with them. The three of them knew it was better that way, without even communicating it explicitly.
Tressa opened the door to her cottage, holding it for both Connor and Bastian to slip inside. She glanced around. No one was paying attention to them, at least not that she could see.
She closed the door and leaned up against it. Connor sat at the table while Bastian paced the room. He hadn’t been in her cottage in a couple of years and Tressa was struck by how he seemed to have outgrown it. A memory of playing cards at the table seemed like a different life, almost as if all of them had outgrown their little village.
“Connor, you already filled me in on what’s going on out there. Bastian, do you want to tell me why you were fighting that man?”
“His wife just died.” Bastian said it under his breath.
“What is wrong with you?” Tressa couldn’t help herself. There wasn’t one good reason he should snap at a man suffering grief like that.
“He blamed you. He said this was your fault. I was only defending you.” Bastian stared at his shoes, unable to look Tressa in the eyes.
She took a step closer to him, then thought better of it. “Next time someone says something about me and you feel the need to fight back, do it with words. Not with some sword you made in your free time.” Her blood boiled, the anger rising. “And what do you think you’re doing, making swords at the forge? You know what the punishment is for a crime like that!”
“I have to agree with her, Bastian.” Connor tapped his fingers on the table. “You’re writing your own death sentence.”
Bastian punched a fist into his palm. His biceps rippled and Tressa forced herself not to notice it. “You both know why I protected Tressa. Don’t act dense.”
“We’re not acting dense, Bastian.” Tressa sat down at the table with Connor, purposely distancing herself from him. “Our lives are not ours. We have to live within the confines of this village and its laws.”
Connor laughed. “You two really need to get over each other.”
Tressa shot him a glare that could have melted a table full of candles.
“It’s getting old,” Connor continued, “Yes, we all had these ideas of what we’d grow up to be. I certainly never expected to love Hazel, but I did. Guess what? I love her now. If the two of you would stop being so selfish about your feelings, you might discover there’s someone else here who could make you happy.”
Tressa wanted to sink under the floor, grind herself into specks of dirt that could never be swept from between the planks. Connor knew how they felt, but he’d never said it so boldly before. And even though both Tressa and Bastian refused to act on their feelings, sometimes to the point of making life awkward and miserable for everyone around them, neither of them could deny it either.
“I’m happy with Vinya,” Bastian mumbled under his breath. “She gave birth to my little girl. I will always be grateful for that.”
“Now that we’re no longer obligated to enter the fog, Tressa could continue coupling until she finds the right man,” Connor suggested. He bumped Tressa’s elbow.
“That’s easier said than done. I’ve been a part of coupling four times now. I haven’t conceived once. I think I’m barren.” Her voice lowered on the last word. Speaking it aloud, outside her cottage, would result in angry stares from other villagers. No one wanted to allocate resources to a woman who couldn’t help the village continue with her progeny. “Besides, I’m getting a little old for finding a husband, don’t you think?”
“It’s true. Many of the men our age have already been bonded. Tressa shouldn’t be forced into a relationship with a boy of fourteen or fifteen. It’s disgusting.” Bastian shook his head, then sat down next to Connor.
Tressa didn’t argue with his statement. She’d thought the same thing many times.
An awkward silence draped over the three friends.
“It would just be easier if I went into the fog.” Tressa said with a resigned sigh. “There’s nothing left for me here.”
“It’s suicide.” Bastian sank into the chair.
She considered slipping Granna’s note out from under her pillow. What if her rantings weren’t far fetched? What if there was actually something to them? Even the image on the parchment gave Tressa pause. It was possible Granna knew more than she had ever told the others in the village. There were nights she’d leave and not come back for hours.
Tressa hadn’t ever asked her about it. She’d waited, hoping Granna would confide in her. Tell her where she and her little owl friend, Nerak, would go in the darkness. She couldn’t conceive of anything in the village being so important that Granna could only do it at night.
She’d kept Granna’s secret her whole life. She wasn’t comfortable sharing, not even with her best friends. Granna had told her to follow her heart, but it only led to Bastian. If she couldn’t follow it, then perhaps it was best to move in the opposite direction.
“I will go tomorrow.”
“Not alone.” Connor put a hand on Tressa’s arm. “I will go too and we should see if Geoff wants to go. No one should go into the fog alone.”
“No.” Tressa shrugged his hand off. “You have a wife and two sons. Geoff has a son. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Just because the council has decided the group of three shouldn’t go, doesn’t mean we can’t. There’s a reason Sophia sent people out every year. Maybe it’s our turn to find out why. Besides, we need medicine. Or a cure. Our village could become a ghost town without it.”
Tressa couldn’t help but smile. Connor always knew the right thing to say. She glanced over at Bastian and his brooding face. He didn’t offer an opinion.
“We just have to be the first ones to succeed,” Connor said.
Granna was gone. She knew Bastian could never be hers and she wouldn’t come between a bonded couple. Staying meant giving in to Udor, either by becoming his concubine or suffering at his hands for refusing.
“I’m with you,” Tressa said.
CHAPTER NINE
Connor opened the door to Tressa’s cottage. They’d planned to slink out unnoticed and find Geoff, to see if he would still leave with them. He’d been chosen and he’d been preparing just as they had. But when the door creaked open, a crowd milled around outside of Tressa’s cottage.
“You!” Someone called out. “She’s the one who started this.”
Murmurs of assent traveled across the mob. Tressa intended to push past them all, but Connor nudged her gently to the side and held up both arms. “Come on, now. Do you really think that’s true? Who started this rumor?”
Tressa strained to hear their response, but instead of one clear voice answering Connor, a new wave of rumors swirled.
“They’re having an affair.”
“No wonder they didn’t want to leave.”
“They did this to protect themselves.”
“His poor wife.”
Tressa nudged Connor. “Let me handle this. I don’t want to damage your relationship with Hazel.”
Connor laughed. “She won’t believe a word of it. Hazel knows exactly where my heart is.” He turned back, looking Tressa in the eyes. “She’d also encourage me to defend you.”
“You’re a lucky man.”
“Don’t I know it?” Connor winked. “Now help me make her proud.”
Connor grabbed Tressa’s hand and tugged. He pushed through the crowd, ignoring their growing cries for justice. Villagers grabbed at her dress and hair. She shrugged them off and tried
keeping up with Connor. It wasn’t easy. She tripped over the feet of the angry people surrounding them, but Connor’s grasp didn’t loosen. He continued to drag her along behind him toward the village square.
She brushed back her hair with her free hand, removing the veil falling around her face. It fell right back down and made it impossible to see. Tressa quickly wove her hair into a braid. She’d never tried with one hand before and was concerned her hair was knotting itself into a mess she might not be able to fix later. Vanity forced her to slow her trembling fingers down. She didn’t want to cut her hair off again.
The braid fell over Tressa’s shoulder. She almost regretted making it. The angry eyes of the accusing villagers could make contact with hers. She saw the pain in their eyes. Some of them probably didn’t want to blame her, but didn’t know where else to focus their fear. Tressa didn’t know how fast the plague was spreading, but it was clear that fear was spreading faster.
The crowd followed them through the village, their footsteps stamped behind Tressa. Sure, unending, determined. The ground transitioned from grass to dirt, signaling their proximity to the town square. Tressa gave Connor’s hand one last squeeze, then let go. She wouldn’t look like some kind of victim or criminal. She would stand proud and tell the truth, just like Granna had always taught her.
A hole opened ahead of them. Connor stood to the side, letting Tressa stand next to him. He’d taken her through the first part, but he knew her well enough to let her stand on her own in front of everyone.
The three bodies still rested in the middle of the square, but it was Udor, near the entrance to the village hall, who held everyone’s attention.
“So they’ve decided to show their faces,” he boomed across the square. “Maybe you’d care to tell us why people are dying, Tressa.”
His glare ripped straight into her chest. So this was her punishment for refusing him. She hadn’t realized he’d act so quickly, but it was possible the additional deaths gave him exactly the impetus he needed.
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