Dragonlands(12)

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.