Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Bridget
“What are you doing?”
Bridget followed Stellan’s hurried movements as he grabbed a backpack and began stuffing random items, including a particularly dusty bottle of wine, inside.
Every time she tried to jump in front of him, he dodged her.
Until she read his movements and snatched up the book he was reaching for before he could grab it.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Stellan growled, swiping it from her hand. “I’m going back to Elyria.”
“You can’t.”
The words slipped out of Bridget’s mouth before she understood what they meant. He couldn’t go back. Not yet. Not until she had decided what to do. She wasn’t ready to face it all. Not the curse. Not the past. Not Vega… any of it. If he left now…
Stellan abruptly stopped in front of her. His hand on her wrist sent shivers up her spine. “Come with me.”
Bridget’s throat tightened. Could she go back to Elyria?
Hadn’t he been warning her against it this entire time?
Besides, for months, she’d been convincing herself that she didn’t want to be in Elyria…
that it was too dangerous, especially for Nylah.
To go now felt like a betrayal of everything she’d been building for herself.
But… She glanced at her sister, who watched them curiously from her stationed spot next to the unconscious Archer on the couch. Nylah needed to go.
Stellan dropped her arm. “Or stay and go back to Boston,” he said, blue eyes hardening. “Figure out another way to cross the gate. I don’t care. But I can’t be responsible for your fate anymore. Marin needs me.”
His words struck a chord in Bridget. It wasn’t about her anymore or a centuries-old curse... but the people who needed them. That was worth any risk.
“What did you see?” Bridget asked, desperate to know what had rattled him enough to push him back to Elyria.
Ignoring her, Stellan zipped up his backpack and headed for the door. Seconds later, Nylah coughed, reminding her just what was at stake.
“Wait!” Bridget called, following him outside. “Just wait…” Stellan stopped in his tracks. He tightened his grip on his bag as she approached. “I have to go with you. Nylah needs the cure for that potion Alexia gave her.”
“I don’t have time to stop in Andarre first,” Stellan said. “Do you understand what that means?”
It meant seeing Cade, possibly married. It meant having to confront their past together before she’d comprehended herself. It meant walking back into the magical world that had almost destroyed her.
“Yes,” Bridget whispered. She really hoped going through the gate wasn’t as painful as she remembered.
As if reading her thoughts, Stellan said, “I’ll do my best to make the jump as easy as possible for Nylah… And I can keep her healthy until she makes it to Andarre.”
Bridget noticed his choice of words. Her. Not us. Fae were very careful with their words, after all. At least his slip-up, purposeful or not, gave her some insight into his visions. “But…”
Throwing his backpack inside the bed of a beat-up truck, Stellan sighed. “I didn’t have to read your mind to know that was coming.”
“I can’t leave without saying goodbye to Archer,” Bridget said.
He’d made it very clear he never wanted to step foot back in Elyria.
Even though she rarely told him, he was her friend.
Leaving him would slice her open. “He’s still passed out.
I can’t just leave him here… not without telling him where we’re going. And why.”
Stellan crossed his arms and leaned against the truck. Bridget followed his eyeline to where Alexia spied on them through the kitchen window. “I’m guessing the stray won’t let you out of her sight either.”
Bridget rubbed her temple thinking of Alexia’s reaction when they told her they weren’t going to Andarre first. “Archer… when is he going to wake up?”
“A few hours. Maybe days. I’m not sure. He was hit with a lot of magic.”
“Will you wait?”
Stellan sighed. “We leave the second he’s awake.”
Bridget was back. Again. The sight of her imagined Cavamynian Palace twisted her stomach.
Couldn’t her brain give her something else to dream about?
This time, she didn’t have to go searching for the other girl.
She was already in the ballroom with her.
Outside, the dark sky cast shadows over every inch of the marble floor.
If not for the dim light of the chandelier, Bridget wouldn’t have been able to see at all.
Picking a speck of dust off the black velvet sleeve of her elaborate gown, the girl pouted. “Didn’t you like the spell I gave you?”
“I never asked for one,” Bridget replied. If she wasn’t incessantly dreaming about Cavamyne, the night Quinn dragged her through the gate would probably be her subconscious’s other favorite memory to relive. Bile crept up her throat. There had been so much blood.
“If you say so,” the girl said, patting Bridget’s hand.
Bridget recoiled, stunned by the gesture. And by what traveled up her arm. Never once had she touched anything in her dreamworld. What was the point? It wasn’t real. As the other girl smiled, though, Bridget couldn’t deny the sharp, icy throb her fingertips had left on her skin.
“You’ve had a big day. Bridget. No one would blame you for lying to yourself.”
Backing away, Bridget searched for a way out of the ballroom. Reality broke through the cracks. Trepidation crept up her spine that perhaps the girl in front of her wasn’t completely made up.
Foothold.
Where had she heard that word? It repeated in her head like a mantra, calling her to remember.
“Who are you?” Bridget demanded.
The further she backed away, the more the girl followed. She cocked her head. “I’m just like you.”
The scene changed. They were no longer in the ballroom, but in front of the gate.
Recognizing the scene, Bridget fell to her knees.
Vega, in her blood red mask and dripping metal claws, held up a dagger.
Magic buzzed in the air, suffocating all life in the surrounding area.
Chanting drowned out the sound of Bridget’s heartbeat.
When moonlight finally illuminated the face of Vega’s victim, Bridget choked. It wasn’t her at the end of the knife... but the other girl. No longer in an ornate dress, but rags. Her blue eyes, full of unshed tears, pleaded with Vega to stop.
Without hesitation, Vega plunged the dagger into her heart.
Eyes popping up, Bridget swallowed a scream.
It didn’t take her long to come back to reality.
The stiff, wooden armchair in the corner of Stellan’s cabin bit into her back and the heat from the fireplace burned the bottom of her feet.
Sneaking a glance of Nylah and Archer passed out on the couch together, Bridget wiped a drop of sweat from her neck, unable to remember when she’d fallen asleep.
Sometime between Nylah trying to draw on Archer’s face and…
Ice went up her spine. Turning around, she found Alexia staring at her from across the room. At the kitchen table, she rolled a water bottle between her hands.
“You’re not sleeping?” Bridget asked, even though she already knew the answer. In Vassuryn, Alexia had taken every night watch and opportunity to creep in the dead of night for Cora. “It’s like two a.m.”
“Of course not.” Alexia scoffed. “You shouldn’t be so trusting.”
Bridget read between the lines. Didn’t Cora teach you better?
Unlike Alexia, she wanted to forget every single lesson from Cora.
After stretching her neck, Bridget heaved herself out of the armchair and headed for the kitchen.
Through the window, she spotted Stellan leaning against the rail of his tiny porch, cigarette in hand as he stared up at the sky.
So Alexia wasn’t the only one refusing to get any rest. The air of the refrigerator cooled Bridget’s skin as she reached inside for a soda.
“You were talking in your sleep,” Alexia stated.
Popping the can open, Bridget downed her source of caffeine before answering. “It was just a nightmare. I tend to have a lot of those about my time in Elyria. I’m surprised you don’t either.”
Alexia kept a straight face, but Bridget didn’t miss the tightening of her shoulders.
It was strange, being with her now in the one place she never expected.
Knowing exactly what made her tick. Alexia had always been an endless puzzle.
One she’d given up solving a long time ago.
But… in her wildest dreams, Bridget had never imagined their motivations would stem from similar interests.
“Your family…”
“I don’t need your judgment,” Alexia snapped.
Bridget tightly rolled her lips together. Nothing was ever easy with her. “No... I was going to say that it’s… admirable you dealt with Cora that long just to save them.”
The words, almost painful to admit, hung in the air between them. Avoiding Alexia’s gaze, Bridget downed the rest of the soda.
“She wasn’t as bad to me as she was to you.”
Oh really? Bridget doubted that. Thinking of Alexia’s broken body in Cavamyne, she let out a humorless laugh. “At the end…”
“I volunteered. I knew she wouldn’t kill me.”
“Cora had her fingers deep inside your abdomen. Your blood was spilling everywhere because she couldn’t figure out how to use the Bloodstone. She wasn’t going to stop,” Bridget replied heatedly. “Not until she opened the gate. The only reason you’re still alive is because Quinn distracted her.”
Alexia paled, and for a second, the reality of what really happened in Cavamyne seemed to hit her.
Or at least, Bridget hoped so. For once, a nervous tremble sat on the other girl’s lips.
Stuffing her soda can in the trash, Bridget almost felt bad for being the one to force the reality of Cora on her. Almost.