She stepped back and looked at him. “Okay. You look a bit better now.”
“We both look like outcasts,” Bastian mumbled. “They’ll know.” His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, hanging from his hip.
A loud clanging startled them both. Bastian and Tressa peered out of the alley. “Can you see anything?” Tressa stood on her tiptoes, but the gathering crowds were blocking everything in the distance.
Bastian strained his neck upward. “No, probably not much more than you.”
He was taller than Tressa by a head. Even that wasn’t enough. It looked as if the entire town was streaming into the square. The crowd pushed, elbows flying in every direction as they all clamored to get closer to the wooden building in the center of the square.
The bell continued, getting more frantic with each clang. Tressa’s heart beat in time with the sonorous ringing. The crowd fell to its knees, their heads bowed in supplication toward the building.
Women began to wail, waving their arms in the air. Men beat their chests, creating a thundering so intense, Tressa had to wonder if they were actually hurting themselves.
She looked up at Bastian, her eyes wide. “What is this?”
“I don’t know. Do you remember any stories like this from Sophia?”
Tressa closed her eyes and thought, trying to remember anything that might help them know what to do. “No.” She shook her head. “But we’re more conspicuous standing here than we were a few moments ago worrying about our clothes.”
“You’re right. Let’s go.” Bastian grabbed her elbow, steering Tressa into the crowd of people.
They dropped to their knees. Bastian thumped his fist against his chest. Tressa threw her arms up in the air in imitation of the women around her. She opened her mouth, but didn’t utter a sound. The wrong noise at the wrong moment would mark her as an interloper.
The bell stopped. Silence draped over the crowd like a blanket. Tressa dropped her arms to her sides, mimicking the woman next to her. Bastian shuffled closer to her until their shoulders were barely touching.
“Gaze now upon the glory!” The voice came from the front of the crowd.
Tressa lifted her chin, only after seeing the woman next to her do so, and glanced at the spectacle on the steps to the building. The woman who’d plucked them from the edge of the fog stood on the top step, her arms spread in the air.
Her braided ponytail hung to the ground, woven with ribbons shining against the rays of moonlight. The blue leather hugging her body looked recently buffed.
She grasped the large knockers on the door, flinging them open. Her braid swayed to the side, glinting as if a million stars were woven into it.
A puff of smoke preceded a loud scratching noise.
“Are you ready to seek absolution?” She screamed at the crowd.
The wailing and beating began again, drowning out her words. People rose to their feet. The crowd closed in on them. Tressa’s breath caught in her chest. The people squeezed in tighter, cutting off her view of the building.
Bastian leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Seek absolution? That’s what the physic said to do.”
“Then I guess we’re in the right place.” Tressa jumped up, trying to see over the masses of people blocking her view.
“Quiet,” the woman next to her hissed. “Let Queen Stacia speak.”
Queen? Tressa mouthed it to Bastian. The woman who’d captured them wasn’t just a military leader, she was their ruler.
“Will he forgive the trespasser?” Stacia shouted. She gestured to somewhere in the crowd.
Tressa could only see her arms and head, the rest cut off by the crowd. More heads appeared above the crowd, climbing the steps toward her. They held something between them, their muscles bulging with the effort. A shock of sandy hair rested on the shoulder of one of the men in back.
“Connor,” Tressa whispered to Bastian. He didn’t need to respond. The automatic tightening of his bicep told her he saw the same thing she did.
Chapter Twenty-One
Bastian strained against Tressa’s grip, holding him back from pushing his way through the crowd to Connor’s side. He was so close, but assuming everyone there would be against them, Bastian knew trying to rescue him now would only get Tressa and him taken hostage too.
Bastian relaxed, forcing himself to take steady breaths. His muscles unclenched. Tressa’s hand dropped to her side. His eyes focused on the scene at the front, burning holes into the backs of those who carried Connor.
Stacia raised her arms higher in the air. “Let us pray!” she shouted.
As one, the crowd intoned, “Lead us. Forgive us. Take the trespasser. Make your judgment on all.”