Leo held up his sword, motioning her to rise. Tressa stood, shook out her legs and fell into a ready stance, her sword pointed at an angle. He moved around her in a circle. Tressa didn’t take her eyes off of him. She was cautious, knowing he was about to teach her a lesson. She’d learned to judge him quickly and his disguises no longer fooled her as they did others. He’d performed in the inn many times for the same men. It was always a different show and no one was the wiser that the same man stood in front of them night after night.
“Death is a finality you can never take back. If you make a mistake, your life ends. If your opponent makes a mistake, you have to choose whether to let him live to see another battle. You can also be the angel of mercy, taking a man’s life after he’s been injured so badly he can never recover.” Leo struck her sword. Tressa parried. “The moment you point your sword at a man’s throat or chest and know that you are the only thing standing between life and death can be humbling. It can also be empowering. That is when you learn who you are.”
“I know who I am.” Tressa slashed at Leo.
Leo moved in closer, forcing her arm toward her trunk, her sword at a peculiar angle. She couldn’t fight him off without hurting him. Still, Leo didn’t falter. His attacks became more frenzied. Tressa stumbled backward, lost her footing, and fell to the ground. One leg twisted under her, throbbing.
Leo lunged down, his sword stabbing relentlessly. Tressa fought back, trying to focus on the sharp tip of his blade and not the pain or discomfort of being sprawled awkwardly on the rocky ground.
“I get the point,” she huffed between thrusts of her sword.
“No you don’t,” Leo growled. “Until you know what it’s like to have your life threatened. Until you have to decide it’s his life or yours. Until you have the moment where you tire of the game, find a weakness in your opponent, and end the fight forever. Until that moment you have no idea what it’s like to stare death in the face, Tressa.”
“How can I know until I’m there? I know you won’t kill me.” She fought to keep her voice low. It was imperative no one hear their conversations. Despite seeing them fight, for appearances sake they were both dressed as men, Tressa knew no one could discover their reasons.
“You can’t.” Leo pressed forward until she was flat on her back, his sword at her throat.
A trickle of blood dripped down the side of her neck. “You can stop now,” she gasped.
“How do you know I’m not here at the queen’s behest? How do you know she didn’t have you followed? How do you know this all wasn’t an elaborate set up, designed to test you. To see how far you’ll go?”
He pushed his sword in a little harder, until Tressa could feel her skin slowly ripping apart, tearing into tiny shreds.
“Leo,” she pleaded. She looked into his eyes. The gentleness she’d grown to love had turned to darkness. There was no more compassion. No understanding. Only the hardened gaze of a man who’d killed before and was considering doing so again.
She took one deep breath before he thrust his sword down all the way.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Leo’s sword wavered back and forth, stuck into the ground only a breath away from Tressa’s throat.
“Give me your hand.”
His fingers wiggled in front of Tressa’s face. She lay on the dirt, refusing to touch him. Light danced in Leo’s eyes, kicking the darkness away.
“Um…” Tressa’s hand went to her neck instead. Warm blood pooled where he’d scratched her with the tip of his sword, only moments before she honestly believed he’d kill her.
Leo stood up straight, his hands on his hips. “Well, if you were in the arena, you would have died. I was only trying to illustrate a point.”
“You did it quite well. I lost faith in you.”
Leo turned around, pacing. “I’m sorry for that. It’s a good lesson for you to learn. You can’t trust anyone. Not your closest friend. Not your lover. No one. For the right price, anyone will betray you.”
“Is that why you’re always alone?” Tressa sat up, feeling like herself again. Willing to give the trust Leo had stolen.
“I’m with you now.”
“But no one else. I’m new to your life.”
Leo waved a hand in the air. “My life is that of a traveler. I can’t have a home or a family. It’s irrelevant.”
“Aren’t you afraid of dying alone?” Tressa’s hand instinctively went to her stomach. She thought of the babies she couldn’t conceive. The future she’d always thought would leave her alone. Now that she had reunited with Bastian, there was hope for the future. Maybe she wouldn’t be alone forever.
“I will die when I die. I can’t control it. I also can’t control who’s with me when it happens. All I hope for is an honorable death. Not something accidental or useless. I want to die for a reason.”
Tressa wrapped her arms around Leo and rested her head on his shoulder. “I will tell your stories when you’re gone.”
Leo shrugged her off with a laugh. “The way you fight, you’ll die long before me, chouchou.”
Tressa laughed, even though she knew it was true. Especially after her performance a few minutes ago. She should have fought back. Kneed him in the crotch. Anything to set herself free. Instead she accepted her death sentence without even attempting to battle for her life.
Pathetic. She’d never make it. But she had no other choice. Going back to Bastian in defeat. No, she wouldn’t make her sacrifice mean nothing. She’d do what she set out to do. Defeat Stacia. Avenge Connor. Set her people free. Only then could Bastian fully be hers.
The face of his little daughter interrupted her thoughts. She tried pushing it away, but Farah’s tears poured into her dream. She was taking her father away from her.
Snap! Leo stood in front of her, his fingers together. “Wake up, chouchou. Practice is over.”
“No.” Tressa put a hand on his arm. “I must keep practicing until I’m ready.”
“You will never be ready for what you will face.”
“But —”
Leo laid his hand over her mouth. “Physically, you are ready. You are never ready mentally. Not even after you make your first kill.”
“It doesn’t get easier?”
“Never.”
The sun had sunk below the buildings, bathing them in shadows. Night descended too quickly when they were practicing. “I have to get back to the inn for the evening meal. Ira needs me.”
“I know. I’ll make an appearance there tonight as well. What I did to you had to be done, but it weighs heavy on my heart. A girl like you shouldn’t ever have to face an enemy like Stacia. You should be at home, with a man and children to love you.”
“I never had a chance at a normal life. If I ever want to live life my way, it’ll take freedom from tyranny.”
“That’s not a small order,” Leo said as they walked back to the tavern. He stopped a few paces away from the bustling people headed out for an evening meal or back to their homes after a long day of work. “You never did tell me how you planned to stop Stacia once you joined the Black Guard.”
Tressa looked at her feet. She didn’t have an answer. That scared her more than fighting for her life in the arena.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Swords clanged in the damp air. Bastian’s crossed with Adam’s, over and over again until their forearms ached. Adam dropped his to the ground and held his hands in the air.
“I’m done. For today, at least.” Adam rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “I’m not sure if you’re getting us ready for war or trying to systematically wear us down.”
Bastian laughed. “You’re stronger now than you were a few weeks ago.”
“True. True. When do you think we’ll be ready to head out?” Adam nodded at the fog.
Since the day Bastian argued with the townspeople, everyone had decided to stay. Those who could pick up a sword spent a couple of hours each day practicing. The rest of the time they packed. Decidi
ng what to bring and what to leave was hard. They didn’t know if they’d ever make it back into the village.
Bastian encouraged them to pack light. To only bring what was necessary. It didn’t make it any easier. Adam had a rough time. As the only healer, he had a variety of tools and instruments at his disposal. But they were iron, and heavy. Bringing them could save someone’s life, but he wasn’t sure how to carry everything himself. Udor had promised him an apprentice. Yet no one had shown interest.
“In a few days,” Bastian answered. “I don’t want to wait too long or people might forget what we’re training for. It’s too easy to fall back into familiar patterns.” He clapped his uncle on the back. “I’m glad you’re training. It’s important for you to be protected because we desperately need your skills out there. But if you should be attacked, you must be able to defend yourself.”
Adam stretched out his arms, swinging them side-to-side. “I think I’ll be ready for anything tossed at me.”
Bastian sighed. “I don’t want anyone to be cocky. None of you know what’s out there. This village,” Bastian looked around at the simple homes, “is nothing like what’s out there.” He walked ahead, Adam next to him. “The buildings are made out of the same materials, but the people are far more ruthless and dangerous. They make Hutton’s Bridge look like it’s populated by simpletons.”
“Bastian!” Kaima ran toward him, her skirts lifted up to her ankles to keep her from tripping over herself. “We need your help. Over here! Yours too, Adam.”
The men took off running after Kaima. A howl of pain came from the back of the town hall.
“Hurry,” Kaima yelled over her shoulder.
Two men struggled behind a building, their arms wound around each other. A child lay on the ground, covered in blood.
“Get away from him.”
Bastian wrested the two men apart, pulling on their arms until they let go.
“He tried to kill my nephew!” Tom, the butcher, yelled.
Bastian looked down to the ground, where the young boy, Lukas, lay holding his arm.
“The boy wanted to train. I was only helping him out. It was an accident.” James, a farmer, screamed back.
“Both of you, back off,” Adam ordered through gritted teeth. He tore off a strip of his shirt and placed it on the boy’s arm, staunching the wound. Blood bubbled on the side, then slowed to a trickle. “Someone could have taken the time to stop his bleeding instead of fighting about it.”
The two men looked sheepish, their eyes toward the ground.
“Look,” Bastian said, placing his arms around the shoulders of the two men, “you must learn to control your anger. If you don’t, innocents will die. Focus solely on the enemy.”
“He shouldn’t have been fighting with my nephew,” Tom insisted.
“Why not? It’s possible he’ll be in as much danger as the rest of us. It won’t hurt him to learn some combat techniques,” Bastian said.
Lukas puffed up his chest.
“But you should know better than to strike a child,” Bastian said. “Control. That’s the one thing everyone needs to focus on. Not the strength behind the swing of your sword. Not the angle of the sword’s entry. All of that comes together if you have control.”
Bastian dropped his arms and stood in front of both men. “You’re going to need it out there.” He pointed toward the fog. “What’s out there will test your mettle. It will push you to the breaking point. It will force you to choose between life and death, between love and pity. You will be tested. And you will be changed.”
He turned his back on the two men, done with them. They wouldn’t listen. He knew that. Until they saw it for themselves, their closed minds wouldn’t accept anything Bastian said. The only credibility he had came from his return. He was the only one. Ever. It held some weight, but stories couldn’t even outweigh experience.
“How is he?” Bastian dropped to one knee next to Lukas.
“He’ll survive,” Adam said. He helped the boy sit up and prop his back against the side of the meeting hall. “But he won’t be able to lift a sword. Maybe not even a pack.”
Tears streamed down the boy’s cheeks. He wiped them away angrily with his sleeve, leaving a streak of blood on his face. “I only wanted to learn. I want to fight.”
“Lukas, I am proud of you for wanting to fight. But the children aren’t going to come with us into the fog.”
Lukas nodded. The tears slowed. “But if something comes here again, another dragon or a beast, like the one you’ve warned us about, I want to be able to fight!”
Lukas’ eyes were wide, full of hope. At the same time, they were fierce, willing to fight. Bastian recognized that. He’d seen it in his own eyes. “I need someone to protect my daughter. Not a grown man. As you can see, their petty disagreements get in the way of what’s important,” Bastian said.
The boy took a quick glance at his uncle.
“What I need is someone who will be with her all the time. Make sure she’s safe. Maybe even hold her hand. Can you do that?”
“Hold hands with a girl?” Lukas’ nose crinkled at the thought.
“I’d consider it a great favor if you’d help me. I can’t fight if I’m worried about her. If I know she’s with you, I’ll feel much better.”
Lukas’ back straightened. He sat up a little taller. “I’ll do it, sir.”
“Bastian. Not sir. I’ve done nothing to deserve that title.” Bastian ruffled Lukas’ sandy hair. “Now head home with your uncle. Tell your aunt what happened and how you’ve been rewarded for your bravery.”
Lukas stood up, a little shaky. Tom placed his hand on his nephew’s uninjured arm.
“I am sorry,” James said.
“It’s okay,” Bastian said. Everyone knew he didn’t mean it, though. He’d said it for Lukas’ benefit. “Control yourself and we won’t have to have another discussion.”
The men, Lukas, and Kaima walked away in silence. After only a few steps, they split up, heading back to their respective homes.
Bastian let out a long sigh and ran his hands through his hair.
“No one ever said this would be easy,” Adam said. He wiped his hands on his shirt, smearing blood all over the light fabric. “I’d better get home and wash up. Do a little laundry too.”
Bastian laughed at his uncle covered in red hair, red freckles, and red blood. “I know, I know. I meant what I said, though. Until they actually see what it’s like out there, they can’t understand.”
Adam nodded. “It’s like having a cold bucket of water dropped on you after a long night of drinking. Very sobering.”
“Yes.” Bastian looked out at the misty forest, wondering if the beast was lurking just at the edge of the fog, awaiting his return. Soon enough they’d meet again, and this time Bastian was prepared to kill it.
CHAPTER FORTY
Bastian pulled off his shirt and settled into bed as the sun set. He was already missing the freedom of the life he’d tasted outside of Hutton’s Bridge. He thought of the sunset he and Tressa had seen as they made love in the grass. He felt a familiar throbbing. He groaned, whishing she was there with him. Their reunion had been too short.
Adam only questioned his haste to get the army ready once. He’d asked if Bastian was hurrying them along only so he could find Tressa. Without hesitation, he’d admitted that was his plan. He knew going into the fog would fruitless. If the map Udor showed him was to be believed, then Tressa could be walking in circles. If Bastian hadn’t thought to climb the trees, he wouldn’t have known to go straight through.
But without knowing where she was, diving into the fog without a plan was a waste of time. He needed an army. Not just to fight the beast or protect themselves once they found their way through fog. No, he needed them to be able to fight the people in the trees. The guardians.
He’d seen enough to know the woman was dangerous. It was likely the other two were just as lethal. If he could destroy them, then the fog would disappear
. Only then could he find Tressa.
If she was still alive.
He couldn’t even stand to think of her body laying dead, or consumed by the beast wandering in the forest. She wasn’t stupid. She’d figure something out. Tressa always did.
A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.
“Come in,” he said. Before he could stand and pull his shirt on, a young woman walked in. She held a shawl tightly around her chest, her hands trembling.
“My mother asked me to see if you needed attending. Your wife is dead and you’ve been injured. I’d be pleased to help you.” She dropped her shawl to the floor, revealing a loosely tied chemise and breasts straining to be let free.
Months ago, Bastian would have been tempted. He wouldn’t have hesitated to pull the string, letting her blouse fall open, so he could fondle her breasts. His life with Vinya was unfulfilling, sexless, and depressing. Any time a woman wanted a dalliance in the back of the forge, he was willing to oblige. It was his way of drowning out the fact he couldn’t have the woman he wanted and was stuck with one he didn’t. He let the other girls dress the wounds in his heart with tongues, nipples, and gasps of pleasure, despite unsanctioned coupling being against their laws.
She stood in front of him, her breasts heaving. In the past it was a turn on. Now Bastian saw it only as desperation.
“If I send you home, will your mother be angry?” Bastian bent over, picked up her shawl, and held it out to the trembling girl.
She nodded. Taking the shawl from him with shaking hands, she wrapped it back around her shoulders, tighter than it was when she’d walked in. Her mother had probably forced her to loosen it up. Before he stepped into the fog, Bastian was the bad boy none of their mothers wanted their daughters around. Now, as something of a hero, he’d been elevated to the man who mothers wanted to sell their daughters to.
It was unfortunate he’d changed or the night ahead would have been far more interesting.
“Take my bed.” He gestured to the rumpled mess of sheets. “I’ll sleep on the floor. In the morning, you can tell your mother whatever you’d like.”
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