“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.
Tressa stood tall, elongating her spine out of the slump she’d been in since leaving her cottage. Her raven braid fell to her back, showing everyone her squared shoulders and firm stance.
“I plan to leave tomorrow. Just as Granna told me to do. Maybe I can find help.” She looked out over the mob. A stunned silence blanketed the crowd.
“Preposterous!” Udor shouted, followed by a deep guffaw. “She’s only hoping you will feel sorry for her. Convince her to stay. Make a martyr out of her. She has no plans to help anyone.”
The crowd swung back to Udor. From the looks on their faces, it was clear they didn’t know who to believe. Tressa spent most of her life away from the crowds, not attending most social events. She preferred to be home with Granna, weaving or just making conversation. Few in the village had really gotten to know her. Only Connor and Bastian knew her heart.