Hidden (Book 1) (20 page)

Tressa woke before the dawn, sleeping only in fits and
spurts through the night. She had to be up and ready for the competition to
join the Black Guard before the sun lit the ground to the west. Leo told her to
get good sleep and he’d make sure she was up early enough. She’d tried to
follow his advice, but nerves got the best of her. The night was spent in a
fitful sleep. Nightmares punctuated by real concerns.
Images
of her death.
Blood. Severed limbs. Connor’s face floated in and out of
the haze, reminding her why she was going ahead with her foolish plan.

Or lack of a plan. She had nothing
more than a vague idea of how she was going to get close to Stacia, much less
kill her. The woman’s braid and its deadly spikes shredded through every scene,
ripping apart everyone in her dream.

Leo still slept in the bed across the
room. His arm rested on top of his head. Tressa analyzed him, determining she
could kill him with one strike of a sword under his arm. She shook her head and
threw off the wool cover. It landed on the wooden floor without a sound.

She tiptoed over to Leo and reached
out to touch his arm. He leapt up, grabbing her shoulders. Tressa stumbled
backward, balanced only by the grip he had on her.

“You scared me!”

Leo chuckled. “You must be ready for
everything.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Hardly. After listening to you moan
in your sleep all night? I couldn’t have slept even if I’d been awake for the previous
five days.” He tilted his head to the side. “Are you going to be okay today?
You don’t have to go through with this.”

She spun out of his grasp. Every
moment with him was a test. It was one she wasn’t willing to fail. “Yes, I do.”
She slipped behind the screen, took off her bedclothes, and pulled her leather
battle clothes on. Leo had purchased them for her from a local merchant with
the money she’d earned working for Ira. A man could buy combat clothing without
anyone batting an eyelash. Tressa would have been noticed. Talked about. It
could have ended her plan before she had a chance to place it into motion.

“What are you going to do today?” she
asked Leo.

Silence was his answer.

“Leo?” She peeked her head about from
behind the screen, but he was already gone.

After binding her chest, she finished
dressing. Grabbing a sharp dagger, Tressa prepared herself for the final part
of her preparation. She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder. Bit by bit she
sawed it off.

Her hair fell onto a cloth she’d
placed on the table. There couldn’t be one strand left to identify her. As far
as Ira would know, she’d run off with Leo.

She set down the dagger and purposefully
avoided looking at the warped mirror on the wall. She didn’t want to see
herself. Tressa wrapped up the towel and tied the edges together. Holding it
upside down, she gave it a shake. No hair fell out. Perfect. She stuffed it in
the bottom of her pack. She’d discard it later in the forest.
If she survived the day.

She looked again at Leo’s bed. Trying
not to be disappointed he’d left without saying goodbye, Tressa tossed her
pillow on his bed. It was something they’d done every morning since taking the
room together. Leo was all about illusion and trickery. He’d known Ira would
snoop. When he found their pillows together, their story was confirmed. Every
so often Leo would pluck strands of Tressa’s hair and scatter them on the bed.
It only took a few details to make the illusion complete.

Her pack sat on the table, waiting
for her to fill it with the few belongings she had. A dress. A brush. A few
scraps of food she’d stolen from Ira last night.
Enough to
get her through the fight.
After that, she’d be on her own. Leo had
shown her a hollowed out tree just outside the village.
The
hole was hidden by thick branches
. He’d been using it on and off for
years and never been discovered. That was where she’d hide her bag until she
could pick it up again.

After she killed Stacia.

Just before she’d make her way back
to Bastian.

Her stomach flipped. Bastian. Would
he ever forgive her for leaving him behind? She hoped he would. Bringing
Connor’s killer to justice would go a long way toward earning that forgiveness.
Tressa took a final look around the room that had been her home for the last
month. She was leaving nothing behind. Never returning. No regrets.

She fingered the note Leo left for
Ira. It was short and sweet.

Ira,

I’m in love with your barmaid, Sophia. We’re off to be married. We’ll be
in touch with you.

Your brother,

Leo

After hiding the pack in Leo’s secret
spot, Tressa took a deep breath. Her shoulders pulled back. Her tightly bound
chest puffed up. She took on the swagger and confidence of a young man about to
conquer everyone for a place in the Black Guard.

During the walk to the arena in the
middle of the city hidden among the trees, Tressa tried not to engage anyone.
Her mind was focused solely on the upcoming battle. Sword strapped to her hip.
Shoulders flexible. Legs stretched and ready to dance with the other men. Heart
prepared to kill.

Crowds milled
around the arena
,
ready to watch the battle
. Women wore armbands with
their favorite contender’s sigil. Pennants on the end of branches waved from
the stands. Tressa didn’t have any colors to bear. No family to represent. Leo
had told her it wasn’t uncommon. Peasants frequently entered the competition to
improve their lot in life. Many died in the attempt. The winners usually bore
the sigil of the wolf or lion, two families who trained their boys from birth
to join the Black Guard. It gained them favor with the queen and elevated their
status in society. They were almost impossible to defeat.

Tressa’s strategy was to avoid them
and fight the others like her. If she could beat them and make it to the end,
she might be among the twelve chosen for the Black Guard. Leo hadn’t only
taught her to fight. He’d given her the strategies he’d implemented to join the
Black Guard. His use of illusion and deception would be her saving grace. All
she needed to do was stay alive.

Men waited in a long line leading up
to the arena. Each was given a number, painted on their cheek in
woad
. Leo explained to her that the blue dye lasted longer
than the red of madder and the yellow of weld. Based on the line, Tressa
guessed her number would have two symbols to it. Granna had taught her to read
text, but not numbers. To her, they were meaningless symbols. Still, she would
wear hers with pride.

As the morning sun rose, the crowds
grew thicker and louder. The line shortened and soon it was Tressa’s turn.

A woman grabbed her arm, pulling her
close. “You’re a young one, aren’t you?”

Tressa nodded. She’d vowed to talk as
little as possible, for fear her voice would give her away.

The wet dye tickled as the woman drew
on Tressa’s cheek with her finger. “If you make it out alive, come see me
afterward. I work at the White Swan. I’m giving away free, ten-minute sessions
to competitors. Just a little perk for trying your best and surviving.”

Tressa raised an eyebrow, but didn’t
say a word.

The woman tossed her a crooked smile.
“Ah, you’re a virgin, aren’t you? Don’t
worry,
Sheleigh
will take good care of you. She specializes in
first times.” She winked,
then
patted Tressa on the
butt.

She stumbled ahead, berating herself
for showing shock. Any young man would be thrilled with such a proposition. If
she
was
going to pass for one, she’d have to play the
part better. It didn’t end with the battle. Getting into the Black Guard was
only the beginning.

A horn sounded in the distance. The
door that Connor’s body disappeared into opened. Stacia stepped out, clad in
the blue armor she’d worn the day Tressa, Bastian, and Connor met her outside
the forest. Tressa wanted to elbow her way through the crowd of men, jump up on
the stage, and kill Stacia in front of everyone. It would mean her death too,
but the blood pounding in her veins didn’t care.

Forcing slow breaths, Tressa reined
her desires in. It had to be done the right way. Carefully. When they were
alone. Tressa wanted to tell Stacia exactly why she was about to die right
before she ran the sword through her black heart. Then she needed to escape and
make it back to Bastian. Her love. Free her people from the fog once it was
safe for them to come out.

The plan didn’t involve a public
killing or Tressa’s death in kind. Despite the rage, she had to control herself
and let things unfold.
One victory at a time.

Tressa turned back to the other men,
studying them. Some seemed confident, strutting around as if they’d already
won. Others were unsure and one man stood off to the side crying, his mother
next to him with her arms folded under her ample bosom, a frown on her face.

He was only a child. No more than twelve.
Why would a mother force her son to compete at such a young age?

Then she saw it. The wolf on the
fabric tied to his shoulder. So this was his lot in life. His birthright led
him to this. Tressa wanted to walk over and hug him. Let him know he wasn’t the
only terrified competitor.

All of her urges went against what
she was there to do. Her heart sank. Could she keep up the charade? Was there
any chance she’d come out victorious?

Stacia raised her arms in the air.
The crowd was immediately silenced.

“I see many fine men out there, all
prepared to fight to the death to protect me, your queen. I bestow blessings on
all of you.” A cruel smile spread across her face. “And those of you cowards
who are injured, if you wish your lives to be spared, you best leave the arena
quickly. There will be no mercy today!

“The rules are simple. The final
twelve left standing inside the arena win. Everyone else can slink off in
disgrace or die honorably in battle. It is your choice. Once you leave the
inner ring, you cannot re-enter. Now, fight for your destiny!”

The horn blew louder, calling the men
to the arena.

Swords whooshed out of their sheaths,
clanging in the air. It didn’t take long before men dropped to the ground,
felled by a well-placed blade. One young man dragged himself across the dirt,
clawing desperately to make it to the outer ring where he would be safe. Before
his finger could cross the line, a man with a lion sigil pierced him in the
side. Blood sprayed in the air. He took one final breath,
then
his head fell to the ground, his eyes blank. It was the boy with the wolf on
his arm that Tressa had seen crying not long ago.

Tressa held back the bile rising in
her throat. Leo had tried to tell her, but nothing could have prepared her for
the raw carnage. She hunched down, blew her hair out of her eyes, and entered
the fray.

The battle raged on. With the sun at its highest, the
scent of sweat permeated the arena. Tressa wiped her forehead with her arm. The
point of her sword in the ground, she leaned against her weapon, taking a
breather.

The main throng of fighting was
taking place on the other side of the circle. She watched them spar as if they
had limitless energy. Most of the participants remaining bore the lion or the
wolf, their dark reds and oranges standing out in the mass of men and steel.

Tressa had managed to avoid most of
them. She’d concentrated on injuring the weak and letting them make it to the
outside of the circle. Her fighting techniques looked inept. Thanks to Leo’s
instruction in illusion, she didn’t appear to offer a threat to anyone. Yet
when she was near a wolf or lion, she fought with everything she had, proving
to them that she deserved a second glance.

Leo had explained the goal was to
pick off the weak first. Get them out of the ring so the real battle could take
place. Even though every man wanted a spot on the guard, he also knew that his
fellow victors had to be the best of the best. No one wanted a coward to slip
through to the end because he avoided most of the fight.

It was a strategy that had produced a
guard not only lethal, but clever. It was exactly what the queen wanted and
they knew it. Pleasing her meant a life of boons… at least while still in the
Black Guard. On this one day a year, no one was safe.

A man sauntered over to Tressa, his
sword gleaming off the sun’s rays.

“Taking a break, are you? I think
I’ll join you, if you don’t mind.” He huffed the words out between quick
breaths.

He seemed winded, but Tressa wouldn’t
trust it for one second. She only nodded, grasping her sword tighter in her
fist.

“Quite a day, isn’t it?” He removed
the leather hat from his head. “The men are going down faster than last year. I
suspect the guard will be chosen by midday.”

She didn’t respond.

“You’re a quiet one. What’s your
name?”

She glared at him, not taking her eyes
off his arms. If he made a
move, that
would be the
first place she’d see it. Muscle contractions couldn’t be hidden.

He laughed, the braid on his long
black beard danced from side to side. Yellow and red beads decorated the length
of it. “I can tell this is your first time here.” He coughed, phlegmy and
thick. “You won’t win.”

He nodded to the throng of men
fighting. “Twelve of the men left are from the last guard. They’re all working
together. I’m sure they planned their strategy ahead of time.”

Tressa let her eyes wander to the
group. She could see it now. They moved in unison, helping each other. One
would strike the first
blow,
another would finish the
man off. “They’re conserving their energy.” Her hand flew over her mouth. She
hadn’t even thought to disguise her voice.

She looked at the man. He didn’t
register a hint of surprise.

“If you want to win, you’ll have to
take out at least one of them.” He didn’t comment on her voice. Maybe he
assumed she hadn’t reached puberty yet. “The best way to do that is to get one
to break off from the bunch. They’re much less lethal alone than together. Not
that they aren’t great fighters alone, don’t make that mistaken assumption, but
it’s easier to kill one at a time.”

Tressa wanted to ask him why he was
telling her all this. She didn’t trust her voice. Discovery could mean instant
death. Her mind reminded her of one of her dreams: her top torn open, her
feminity
discovered, dozens of men hacking her body to
pieces for trying to fool them. No, she wouldn’t say another word.

The man nudged her with his elbow.
“Watch this.” He ran off toward the fray, his sword waving in the air.

He jumped on the back of one of the
wolves, forcing the man away from his comrades. They fell to ground. The
braided man pushed off the ground, rolling away into an open area.

The wolf elbowed him in the stomach.
The man grunted, then leapt to his feet, the blow not affecting him at all. He
brandished his sword, sticking it into the wolf’s heart. With a sucking sound,
he withdrew it, along with a gush of blood. The wolf’s eyes widened as he
stumbled backward. He opened his mouth to scream, but instead of a cry for help
more blood spurted from his lips. His knees buckled. His sword dropped to the
ground. His body crumpled in a heap on the dirt.

The braided man picked up the wolf’s
sword in his left hand. With a flourish, he spun them from side to side in a
blur of steel and vital fluids. “Got to clean the blood off,” he yelled to
Tressa. After a quick wink, he chose another victim.

Tressa decided she’d waited long
enough. She walked the circle, looking for the right victim. The man with the
braid wasn’t it. Despite herself, she liked him. If she had to fight alongside
someone, she’d choose him just as quickly as she’d choose Leo.

Twenty left. No, nineteen. It was
shocking to her how quickly they fell. Exhaustion was setting in. She knew that
as well. Her arms ached. Her legs burned like they were on fire. Her palms were
covered in blisters, most of them already swollen and broken. She’d need a lot
of ointment to stave off infection in the days ahead.

If she made it that
far.

If she survived.

Before she could choose her next
victim, someone chose her. With his sword in the air, his war cry echoed in the
quiet afternoon. The crowd had gotten bigger, waiting for the time when there
were only twelve left in the arena.

Tressa planted her feet on the dirt,
squatted, and braced herself for the attack. As his sword came rushing down at
her, she stepped back and parried. The clang of metal on metal was followed by
the screech of grinding. She knew she didn’t have the upper-body strength to
force him off. Instead, she let her sword drop,
then
spun out of the way. He stumbled, following his sword to the ground. Tressa
kicked him on the
arse
, forcing him all the way down.
He sprawled out, his sword just out of his grasp.

“Do it. Do it fast!” Someone yelled
in the distance, urging her.

She raised her sword in the air,
then
stabbed him hard in the thigh. With proper medical
care, it wouldn’t kill him. “Get out of the ring.” She lowered her voice,
attempting a growl.

He nodded and reached for his sword.
Tressa turned, but a whistle in the air surprised her. She jumped into a roll,
using her sword arm as a bar on the ground to break the fall. She stood, her
sword at the ready.

The man on the ground had attempted
to slash at her legs. Tressa slashed his other leg at the shin. There was no
way he was walking now. “Save yourself and get out now.”

“I will not leave in dishonor.” His
arms flailed, losing the stamina he needed to raise his sword.

“Then you will die a fool. It’s your
choice.” Tressa spat at him, then stalked away. What would drive a man to
prefer death
over
life? Another man ran past and
skewered him in the stomach.
Another senseless death.

After a quick count to fourteen, she
realized she didn’t have any time left.

The fight was almost over. She was
still alive. So were five lions, five wolves,
two
men
of unknown origin, Tressa, and the man with the braided beard. One of the
unknowns appeared weak. He stood trembling behind two of the other wolves. For
all the brutality they’d shown, they were protecting the boy.

Why was his life more important than
the other wolves
who
’d died, especially since he
wasn’t one of their own?