by Colt, K. J.
Tressa reached up and touched his goatee. “How did you make it disappear? I’m quite sure you can’t grow hair that fast.”
He strode around the area in back Ira kept for garbage. They’d cleared it out the day before when he promised to teach her. The only stipulation was that her schooling would be done in private. No one knew his identity. He was known far and wide as The Entertainer. Some places he was The Swordsman. Others, The Man of Stealth and Romance. Tressa had giggled at that one.
She hadn’t felt so safe around a man since Adam. It was the way she wanted to feel around her father.
For only a moment her heart twinged. She hadn’t just left Bastian behind. She’d also abandoned the man who’d abandoned her. She just hadn’t counted on missing her father so much.
“Perhaps you noticed my face was darker inside the hood?”
Tressa nodded.
“Makeup. Mostly soot. I ground it into my goatee, making it blend in with the rest of my face. Look closely.” He gestured toward his chin.
Tressa squinted, not sure what she was supposed to be seeing.
“I keep it short. So short that it’s easy to hide. If I were to grow a long one like my brother, I wouldn’t be able to transform so easily. Not only does it provide me the protection of anonymity when I’m not in costume, it also makes it quite easy for me to shave if I need to escape a town quickly.
“Why would you need to escape? You’re an entertainer.”
“And you’re a barmaid. I think there are secrets neither of us are willing to divulge.”
“Fair enough.” Tressa stroked her own chin.
“Are you prepared to learn to be a man?” He bowed, holding out one arm in front of him, palm up.
She fought the urge to place her hand on his, like she would have done otherwise. She’d been grilled in proper behavior her whole life. Granna was a lady and she swore Tressa would be one too. She always said that just because they were trapped in the fog it didn’t mean they had to devolve into heathens. Hutton’s Bridge was once a shining bastion of beauty. Granna hoped to the end that someday it would be that again. She never gave up the dream.
That was all about to change.
In The Rooster’s Wattle she’d overheard a conversation about an upcoming tournament. The twelve winners would become the new elite guard for Stacia. Tressa was determined to learn to fight in time and Leo could teach her.
“I’m not sure I could pass for a man.” Tressa glanced down at her chest. She wasn’t too large, but not too small either. A perfect handful, Bastian always told her.
Leo waved a hand in the air. “If I can pass for a woman, you can pass for a man. You think I have a few extra pounds on me because I’m unhealthy? Wrong. All a man needs is a little belly fat. Push it up with the right girdles, and viola, boobs!” He grabbed his chest in his hands, squeezed tight, and pushed them up.
Tressa had to laugh. His boobs were now bigger than hers. “Fair enough! And all I need to become a man is to stick a codpiece in my breeches. I understand.”
Leo came closer, dropping his hands from his chest and his face becoming far more serious. He snaked an arm around her waist, pulling Tressa close. “Do you really think that’s all it takes to be a man?” His lips were only inches from hers. Her heart fluttered. Even though she wasn’t attracted to him, Leo took her breath away.
The back door from the inn opened. Ira peeked out and sighed. “I don’t even want to know.” He slammed the door shut.
Leo stuck his tongue out and winked at Tressa. “Not for you, my dear. You’re young enough to be my daughter. I prefer my lovers a bit more mature.” He let go and took a few steps away. “And poor Ira. I always got the girls when we were young. It’s just as well he thinks that again. It’ll give us a good reason to meet up and he’ll stay away from you.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s harmless.” Tressa practiced walking like a man, following Leo around their little, self-styled arena.
“Ira’s not even aware that I’m the man who entertained his inn the other night. I spend more time here than the other inns, in an effort to help business. I don’t think he knows, though. He doesn’t pay as much attention to business as he should.” Leo motioned to Tressa to continue practicing her swagger. “That’s why I was glad to see you here. At first glance I could tell you cared. During our chat, I realized there was far more going on. You may have fooled Ira, but you won’t fool anyone who is looking for ulterior motives.”
Tressa dropped her posture. Would she ever be able to trick anyone? If she couldn’t do it as herself, how could she disguised as a man?
“No one trusts anyone here, my dear, least of all the women, thanks to our dear queen Stacia.” A shadow passed over his expression, flitting away as quickly as it had appeared.
If Tressa hadn’t been studying him so carefully, it would have gone unnoticed. If the master of illusion couldn’t control his negative emotions about the queen, then perhaps Tressa really had found an ally.
“This queen,” Tressa imitated Leo as he bent at the waist, bowing low, “tell me about her.”
Leo waved a finger in the air and shook his head. “Let’s move on to another technique, shall we?”
“But, I –” Before Tressa could finish her sentence, Leo took her in his arms.
He bent her backward, his lips once again close to hers. “There are ears everywhere. Mention her name and they begin to listen.”
Tressa nodded ever so slightly, trembling in his arms. Anyone passing by the back alley or looking out a window would see a couple in a tender embrace. They wouldn’t see, or feel, the fear passing through her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
TRESSA SAT DOWN ON A nearby rock, the muscles in her arms sore and burning. She flexed one, impressed with the tone. It was amazing what a difference a month of hard training could do. She’d devoted everything to her mission, despite how much she longed to run back to Bastian. Knowing that killing Stacia would mean bringing down the fog forever and set her people free, Tressa was willing to risk a few lives to the plague to save the majority of them.
“Looking incredible, chouchou,” Leo said, tossing her a wink. “Pretty soon you’ll fool them all into thinking you’re one of them.”
She wiped the sweat from her brow, bringing herself back to the present. “How often does the Black Guard take on new soldiers?”
Leo brandished his sword. He stabbed her padded chest, prodding her until she stood up again. “Only once a year. On the summer solstice. The men compete in the games for a place in Stacia’s elite guard. Even current members must compete to keep their place.”
Tressa snorted. “So much for loyalty.”
Leo danced around her, his feet sending the dirt into tiny whirling tornadoes. “It isn’t about loyalty. It’s about Stacia’s safety.” He looked at Tressa pointedly. “If you were the queen and you knew everyone hated you, wouldn’t you only want the best surrounding you at every possible moment?”
Tressa nodded, breathing erratically. She couldn’t keep up with his quick movements. There was no chance she’d ever make the guard and get close to the queen. “Why haven’t you ever tried out?” she asked between puffs, her chest straining for air.
Leo stopped suddenly, pushing the tip of his sword into the ground. “Who’s to say I haven’t?”
She took the quiet moment as a chance to steal a breath. “You have?”
“I was a member of her highest guard for two years.” Leo bowed his head. “I left of my own accord after I saw atrocities I could no longer support. Stacia is a cruel woman. Far crueler than her mother ever was. I grew up wanting nothing more than to serve her mother. By the time I was accepted into the guard, Stacia was coming of age. Her mother let her handle more and more of the responsibilities. She behaved like the spoiled child she was. Men died on her whim.”
Tressa’s heart went out to him. She knew what it was like having her world torn apart because of others. It was why she was here. Why she was learn
ing. Why she decided to take that moment to charge him.
Leo fell backward. Tressa landed on his chest. Straddling him, holding him down with the strength of her thighs, rendering Leo unable to move. He bucked, but she didn’t yield.
A smile graced his face. “Do this to another man and he might get the wrong impression.”
“Perhaps,” Tressa said, a smile on her face, “but you are not like other men. Besides, when I fight for my place in the Black Guard they will all think I am a man.”
“Even so, some men might be turned on by this from another man.”
Tressa rolled off of Leo and lay down on the ground next to him. “Are you one of those men?” Despite knowing it was none of her business, she was curious. In the last month, he hadn’t courted anyone – man or woman. Leo was strong and attractive. With a flick of his fingers, he could interest anyone.
Leo sobered up, the laughter that always accompanied his voice was silent. “Why?”
Tressa shrugged. “I don’t understand why you’re not coupled.”
“Why aren’t you?” he asked.
“You know why. I’ve told you about Bastian.” Her heart ached. She missed him so much. It would all be over soon, though. She was closer to achieving her goal. Confiding in Leo had helped soothe her pain. She’d told him only pieces of her life story. Enough for him to see her heart, but she never mentioned Hutton’s Bridge. Only a home she was forced to leave.
“I don’t care if you’re interested in men or women or sheep, Leo. I only want you to be loved and happy.”
He rolled on his side and poked Tressa on the nose. “I am. You bring me joy.”
Tressa rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
“I have loved in the past,” Leo rubbed his goatee, “and I have lost. If I meet another whom I desire, I’ll act. Until then, it’s not worth discussing.”
A winged insect landed on Tressa’s hand. She held still, mastering her breath. Slow and steady. “Do you see it?” she whispered, not wanting to scare it away.
“It’s beautiful,” Leo said. “You know what they say about butterflies, don’t you?”
“This is a butterfly?” Tressa had heard of them from Granna, but they didn’t have any in Hutton’s Bridge. At least not alive. In the town hall, a few specimens were pinned to a board, kept safe from dust and the ravages of time by a thin layer of glass. She hadn’t ever imagined the stiff, thin wings could be so glorious once brought back to life. To her, they were ugly, the color faded from their wings, stiff as bones. “What do they say about them?”
“Some think they are the representation of a soul immediately following death.”
“That’s beautiful and morbid.”
Leo laughed quietly. “They also represent change, metamorphosis. I think it’s appropriate for one to visit you now.”
Tressa watched the winged creature as it took flight so effortlessly, gliding on the wind without another care in the world. She envied it. Her life had never been easy, but it had never been so hard as it was now. If her metamorphosis worked, she might have a chance at a normal life. If not, then a butterfly might visit her loved ones. Well, loved one. There was no one other than Bastian. Leo, yes, but he was a new friend. He’d move on without her. His life wouldn’t be disrupted. Bastian’s would. At least she hoped it would.
“How long until the summer solstice?” She’d lost track of the days since leaving Hutton’s Bridge. Time was no longer linear. It advanced in spurts and dragged on interminably on other days. Her job at the inn was a daily form of servitude. Patrons needed to be served every day of the week. There was no day for rest. All of her free time was spent with Leo.
Even Ira assumed she and Leo had coupled up. They kept up the ruse, knowing it was the only way they could justify spending so much time together. They’d also perfected the art of the fake embrace. At any given moment, Leo would grab Tressa and bury his face in hers. He never actually kissed her, or even showed any interest in doing so. His mastery of disguise extended to even the smallest nuance.
Tressa had seen people walk away from them, their faces red, obviously embarrassed at interrupting such a tender and intimate moment. Sometimes Tressa felt their guilt so deeply, even she blushed when Leo would release her. As if their public display of affection was something to be kept behind closed doors.
Leo stood up, brushing the dirt off of his jerkin. “You have only two weeks left, Tressa.”
Her heart pounded. Two weeks wasn’t enough. There would never be adequate time to prepare for this challenge.
“There’s something else I haven’t told you.” Leo hesitated, scratching his goatee.
Tressa sat up, resting her elbows on her knees. She didn’t bother with the dirt, knowing she’d only be covered in it again soon enough. “What? Am I to defeat the dragon in battle too?”
Leo’s fingers stayed on his face, rubbing the stubby hairs methodically in circles. “Sometimes men lose their lives trying to join the Black Guard. That wasn’t the case when Stacia’s mother ruled. She insisted on fair fights. Stacia, however, prefers to be surrounded by cutthroats and cheaters. These men are not only soldiers, they are murderers in her name. She not only tolerates it, she encourages it.”
“I wish I could say I was surprised.” Tressa rubbed her hands together. The blisters stung. She didn’t ignore it. Instead, she internalized the pain, using it to fuel her fire for revenge. She flexed her arm just to remind herself how far she’d come. One-armed pushups were easy now. She could carry more and more at the inn. Leo had warned her against showing off. Drawing attention to herself and her strength was the opposite of what they were trying to accomplish.
“Are you prepared to kill?”
“Yes.” She said it without hesitation or fear. She’d seen how easily they’d taken Connor away from her. They deserved what they had coming.
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.
