***
By the time the breakfast crowd filtered out, it was time to prepare for lunch. When that was done, Tressa was given a break, which she spent gossiping with Ira’s wife. Ira stayed far away. His wife seemed to scare him.
During supper, the front door opened with a flourish.
A hooded man stepped in, his cape fluttering behind him in the breeze. The patrons began to clap, peppered with much hooting and hollering. Long curly black hair peeked out from the edges of the rough woolen hood. A scent of cinnamon and thyme wafted past Tressa as he rushed to the stage in the back.
He slipped a rapier out from under his cloak. The room fell silent. “Who will challenge me?”
Tressa stared at him, unsure if it was a ruse or a true challenge. The men in the inn first treated him like a friend, then they were watchful. It didn’t make any sense to Tressa.
Another man stood up from a nearby table. “I accept your challenge!” He pulled a sword from his hip, flourishing it in the air.
The two men parried. Tressa leaned against the bar, watching them whirl around each other, twisting and weaving around the tables. The swords clanged and clashed. They slashed above the heads of the patrons. Strangely, no one seemed concerned they were in danger. In fact, within moments, they were cheering on the stranger and heckling the man who’d been sitting amongst them.
“It’s a show,” Ira drawled in her ear. “You looked concerned.”
“Oh, I knew that it was an act.” Tressa didn’t, but there was no point in appearing naïve.
“He’s a traveling performer. Works for tips. I’m lucky he showed up tonight. The men will drink more as long as he’s here.”
The faux battle continued on. When the first man became exhausted, another stepped up to take his place. The men seemed bent on besting the performer, but he never seemed to tire. He fought just as smoothly from the moment he’d stepped into the inn.
The action moved around the bar until they were dangerously close to Tressa. The hooded man grabbed Tressa around the waist, pulling her close to him. He leaned over and whispered, “I know you’re hiding from something. I can teach you how to hide in plain sight, chouchou.” Then he planted a big, wet kiss on her cheek.
The men cheered.
He let go, twirling her back to her post by the bar. She steadied herself. Nothing looked the same. Not his gait, nor his physique. Only his eyes, penetrating blue eyes sending her the truth over the heads of the men who were enthralled by the show. Leo. Ira’s brother.
If it was true, and he could teach her to be someone new, she just might be able to accomplish her goals.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Bastian?”
The voice sounded far away. He floated between awake and asleep, not sure which direction to go.
“Bastian?”
There it was again. The voice wouldn’t quiet. He considered reaching up and choking the person until they left him alone, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to lift his arm. Maybe he was restrained.
Who had captured him? Was he back in Stacia’s clutches? And Tressa. Where was Tressa? Fear choked him.
He tried talking, needing to question the person in the room. His lips were frozen like a statue. His tongue slipped to the back of his throat. The words came out in a strangled garble.
“Don’t try to talk. It’s okay. You’re safe. Farah saved your life. She urged you on until the two of you made it through the fog into the village.”
Farah. The images blasted into Bastian’s head as if a bubble had just been popped in his memory. She was safe. But Vinya was gone. Devoured.
He struggled against the thickness in his mouth, prohibiting him from speaking. The voice didn’t mention Tressa. He needed to know if she’d made it back to the village too. Her safety mattered as much as his.
His tongue moved. Another mangled query.
“Shh. Farah is safe. She’s staying with the neighbors. Everyone is thrilled you’re home. You’re a legend. The first to ever make it back. I’m almost afraid to ask, but everyone wants to know what happened to Connor and Tressa.”
His heart sank. Tressa hadn’t made it back, then. She’d failed or she was still out there with that thing that ate Vinya. In his mind, Bastian punched a wall. His emotions raged in his chest, slamming into his rib cage and tearing around his heart. Pain surged through his limbs.
“The cool water will bring you back. I know it probably hurts, Bastian. Just hang in there with me. You’ll be okay.”
Fire burned across his skin. His muscles tightened up, refusing to unclench until he felt as if his entire body would implode. When he couldn’t take one more second of the pain, his eyelids ripped open.