knew, as well as everyone else in the village, that she didn’t want to put one toe into the fog. No one did.
Yet no one ever stood up to Granna’s rule.
She was a gentle woman, but crossing her was a mistake. Anyone who did paid for it with their lives. Maybe not their own, but their child, being sent into the fog. Granna was ruthless in her decisions, never second-guessing herself, never allowing anyone to question her. After all, she was the only one left, the only one who remembered the day the village was trapped behind the misty wall.
“I only thought you should hear it from me,” Tressa said. She couldn’t look him in the face. Instead, she stared at her leather slippers. The long toe with the curl at the end of his shoe nearly touched the tip of hers. She shuffled backward, putting more distance between them. “Granna’s death will mean many things to many people. As the new leader of our village, I came to you first.”
Udor had long ago declared himself Granna’s successor. Though Granna had never openly agreed to it, she privately told Tressa that no one else had the influence to lead their people into a new future. It was Udor, or it was no one, no matter how disgusting.
Maybe that’s why Granna had been so insistent on Tressa leaving during her nineteenth year. She never wanted Udor to touch her great granddaughter.
Udor stroked the length of Tressa’s long raven hair. “I am ruler now, aren’t I? And you were supposed to leave tomorrow. You don’t have to go. Say the word and I will make sure you never have to worry about leaving the safety of our village again.”
Tressa backed away, fumbling for the door. “I must attend to Granna’s body now. Make sure everything is done properly.”
“Of course, of course. I will call a council meeting before sunset to determine the new course of our village.” His caterpillar eyebrows came together and his eyes narrowed. “Our fates have all changed this day.”
Tressa nodded, then let herself out. She slammed the door behind her. Leaning up against it, her chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. She dropped her head, rested her face in her hands, and let the tears fall unbidden.
“Are you okay,” a tender voice asked.
Tressa looked up, her hair covering her soaked cheeks. “Bastian.” She took in a deep, shuddering breath, attempting to calm herself. He’d already reached out to her once, and she’d shrugged him away. He shouldn’t be following her. Not today. Not ever. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Granna just died…”
“Don’t call her that.” Tressa shot an irritated look at Bastian. “She wasn’t your family. She was mine. Like everyone else in this rat-infested village, you can refer to her as Sophia.”
“Tressa, don’t do this. Not now.” He reached out, but fell short of actually touching her arm.
She glanced at his fingers. Dirt was embedded under the nails of his strong hand. She knew without looking how muscular his arms were. Following the contours of his limbs would only remind her of what she could never have again. She hadn’t just coupled with Bastian. She had loved him deeply since she was just a little girl. As children, he’d brought her daises from the meadow, promising her that someday they’d be married. All he had to do was get her with child.
But he hadn’t. Vinya had been the willing recipient of his seed. The bearer of his daughter. His bond-mate for life. Tressa’s barren womb had sealed their fate a few years ago when she didn’t get pregnant during their sanctioned time together. Granna had comforted her through it. Every morning, they drank tea, laughing at first about how lucky Tressa had been to pull Bastian’s ribbon from the basket. As time went on, and Tressa showed no sign of pregnancy, their morning ritual turned to one of quiet sadness. Then acceptance when their three months together expired. That was when Vinya pulled his ribbon. Within a month, her courses had stopped and she was successful at what Tressa could never do.
Tressa had somehow skipped over the part where she felt anger. There was only a deep, abiding sadness. One she couldn’t stomach in Bastian’s presence.
“I have to take care of Granna’s body.” Tressa moved to the side. Granna’s death, Udor’s advances, and now Bastian’s concern. She needed to get away, but living in a trapped village, there was nowhere she could go to be alone.