Dragonlands(5)
It had been gnawing on his soul. Every day since Tressa’s name was chosen three months ago. He’d sought her out repeatedly, but never had the strength to say what he wanted. That he missed her. He loved her. He wanted her to stay in the village and live a long life even if he could never touch her again.
“I can’t wait for Tressa to die.” Vinya stood defiant, her hands clutching the broom’s handle. “I’ll finally have you all to myself.”
Bastian glared at Vinya. “You will never have me. Never again. You make me sick.” He tossed the plate on the table. It slipped and fell to the floor. Neither made a move to pick it up. Bastian strode across the room and through the doorway. He slammed the door behind him, not caring who saw.
She’d gone too far.
Chapter Four
Tressa stepped into the cottage she’d grown up in. The dark wooden walls had always formed a cocoon of happiness for her and Granna. The joyous air in their home had been sucked into Granna with her final inhalation. She probably hadn’t meant to take it with her. Or maybe it had wafted out of her with each exhalation, and now that she was gone, it wouldn’t enter again.
Adam stood over her great grandmother, rubbing oil into her skin, bringing back the luster that had left her. “She’ll look exactly as she did before her death,” Adam said without looking over his shoulder. His red hair seemed dull in the dim light. “During the public viewing, everyone will remember her just as she was. You, unfortunately, will only remember the way she looked at the moment of her death.” He wasn’t one to offer lies for comfort. Tressa appreciated it.
“I assumed as much.” She made her way around the table to Granna’s bedside. Yes, Adam had brought some color back to Granna’s face. She would make a good showing to the people of Hutton’s Bridge. They would remember her fondly. “While I hope someday that memory will fade, the way her chest collapsed, and the life flew out of her, I won’t ever regret a moment of it. Granna was my only family. I’m glad I was there for her in her last moments.”
Adam wiped his hand on a towel hanging from the waist of his breeches. “Need a hug?” He held his arms out.
Tressa hadn’t known her father. He’d volunteered to enter the fog after her mother died. Adam never had children of his own, so he became a bit of a father figure to Tressa. She stepped into his embrace, laying her head on his shoulder. Even though he was Bastian’s uncle, they looked nothing alike, except for their red hair. Adam was thin where Bastian was muscular, short where Bastian was tall. Yet they both held such special places in her heart.
Memories crashed through her mind. At six, she fell off a fence and skinned her knee. Adam had carried her back to Granna’s cottage, wiping her tears with his sleeve. He’d been kind and gentle to her when others hadn’t. They’d been too busy with their own families, their own children, to help out an orphan.
Nothing was more important in her village than family. They kept careful records of lineages, to ensure their lines remained untainted. With such a small population of only a couple hundred, it would be too easy to interbreed. Since they had no way of bringing in new people, each coupling was engineered. Yes, they chose a ribbon from a basket, but the ribbons weren’t placed by chance. It was carefully done, with forethought and planning.
Adam rubbed Tressa’s back, bringing her to the present. “We’ll all miss Sophia. She may have been a bit of a tyrant, but she had a good heart.”
Tressa stepped back, placing a hand on Granna’s. It was now crossed over her stomach with her other arm. A pose of no return. She wasn’t far enough gone yet to be chilled, but without the life searing through her veins, she felt no more alive than the clothes Tressa wore.
“I know she did. Udor’s going to try to change things. He might outlaw entering the fog.”
Adam opened his mouth, then hesitated. “You’re supposed to be a part of it tomorrow, right?”
Tressa nodded without looking at Adam. She straightened Granna’s light linen dress. Summer or winter, Granna still wore the same type of dress. It was as if she didn’t feel the cold.
“I am.” Tressa motioned at Granna. “Do you mind if I do her hair? She didn’t feel up to it this morning.”
“Of course. People might not recognize her without it.”
Adam had already swept Granna’s thick hair over her shoulder. Tressa weaved Granna’s hair in an intricate pattern Granna had spent her life perfecting. She’d taught it to Tressa as a young girl. She’d spent hours practicing with ribbons to get the pattern just right.