Dragonlands(35)
“I couldn’t find my way back,” the man said, answering her unasked question. Her father, if she believed him. “I tried. I failed. And I wasn’t the first. There’s a small community of us in the forest.”
“And Stacia lets you live?”
He sighed and looked over his shoulder. “She doesn’t know we’re there. Unlike Hutton’s Bridge, which everyone knows about, she doesn’t realize some of us escaped. We remain hidden.”
“We should at least go to his village,” Tressa said, despite her trepidation. “Where else can we go, Bastian?”
Bastian’s eyes narrowed. She knew he didn’t believe a word the man said. She wasn’t sure she did either. They had no options other than to wander.
The man shook his head. “You’re Bastian? Incredible! Your mother, Jayne, lives in the community.” He laughed. “I should have seen the resemblance. You have the same eyes.”
Bastian swung his gaze to the man. “My mother is dead.”
“No, she’s not. She left six years after I did. I know because I found her bloodied at the edge of the forest, alone. The other two people with her died in the fog. By some miracle, she found her way out. Do you remember her?”
Bastian nodded slowly. Tressa could only image the pain flooding through him. She’d never known her father. He was but another story of Granna’s. Bastian was a small child when his mother was chosen. Tressa remembered the way he clung to the edge of her skirt, weeping, begging her not to go.
She had patted him on the head, urging him to be brave. She promised she’d see him again. For the first year he stood at the edge of the fog every spare moment, waiting for her to come back. When she didn’t, he withdrew into himself even more. He shunned everyone but Tressa and Connor, leaving the rest of the village behind before he’d ever had the chance to cross the fog.
“We will follow you,” Bastian finally said. “If you’re lying, I’ll gut you.”
“Fair enough,” the man said. He looked at Tressa. “Would you like to ride?”
The beast huffed a warm breath out its nostrils and pawed the ground with its hooves. She shook her head. “I think I’ll walk.”
“We all will.” He took the lead in his hand. “Follow me. We must hurry before day breaks and Stacia’s people find us.”
They walked in silence for a few moments when he spoke again. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
“How do you know about Connor?” Tressa asked. Bastian stalked silently next to her, lost in his thoughts.
“I was in town when they called for everyone to repent. I saw the whole thing. The two of you were obviously not from the town. Your hair, your clothes, everything was wrong. It’s not unusual for Stacia to bring in outsiders. Her riders frequently catch people from other kingdoms near our borders. But I knew that was not the case with the two of you.”
“How?” she asked.
“Because when I saw you, I thought I was looking at the wife I had who’d died in childbirth. You could be her twin, Tressa.” He sniffled tears back. Whether it was from manly pride or good self-control, Tressa didn’t know, but she was glad he did. Enough tears had been spilled.
Bastian stalked ahead of them, mumbling something about scouting. Tressa let him go. Typical Bastian. He would need time to sort through his feelings, ones he likely would repress until he could see the woman the man claimed was Bastian’s mother.
“Why did you say you’d been looking for us?” The word “father” had been on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t dare utter it. Not yet. There was more proving to be done before she’d allow herself.
“Every year, on the day three are sent into the fog, we send out a scouting party. We wait five days, no more, no less for survivors. I wasn’t looking for you, specifically. I never hoped to see you again.”
Tressa glowered at him.
He held up his free hand. “Before you judge, hear me out. I know about the horrors in the fog. I lived through them, by some miracle. I never wanted you to face them, Tressa. I hoped for a long, happy life in Hutton’s Bridge with a husband you could tolerate, and maybe love, and many children.”
The pit in her heart grew wider at the mention of children. Being barren was a black mark on her value as a human in Hutton’s Bridge. But now, with Bastian in this new place, where success didn’t depend fully on the fertility of each woman, Tressa hoped the chasm would heal itself.
“Speaking of children, if you are coupled and bonded, where are your children?” His eyebrows crinkled together. “They never send a couple out to the fog. The leaders were never so cruel. Why are the two of you here? What became of your family?”