Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Bridget
The dry fields outside of Olysa were bare and brown, just like Bridget remembered. She stood in front of a tent, the only source of shade for miles. Its dark purple, thick material clapped against the harsh wind. The crusty dirt beneath her feet billowed upward and clung to her every pore.
Bridget hated this place. Cora had kept them there for almost a month.
She hadn’t been allowed any relief from the sun until she’d finally hit a target with one of the dull daggers she’d been given.
Behind the straw-filled round bag that she’d trained on, a looming mountain range sat covered by smog.
Instead of white peaks, dark stone crumbled every so often.
One of them even had a stream of bright red liquid spewing forth.
Suza, Bridget now realized. She’d been so close.
When she’d asked Cora what lay beyond the mountains, she’d snapped at her and told her it was a place that no life could go if they wanted to keep living.
A wasteland. Every night, Bridget had stared at the mountains, imagining that somehow the wasteland was an escape.
Because anything would be better than the penetrating heat that burned her skin.
“This place is depressing.”
Of course, she was here. It had been foolish to think that just because she was dreaming of another place, that she wouldn’t show up.
Bridget turned to face the girl. “Try being stuck here for a month.”
Instead of her usual ball gown, the girl wore black riding pants.
Her corset-like top was embroidered, with jeweled buttons and a high collar that almost reached the length of her entire neck.
She closed one eye and pretended to throw something with exaggerated flair.
“Is this where you learned your little knife tricks?”
Bridget’s muscles tensed. This was her head. She should know. Unless the mirage in front of her really was someone. That notion struck her to her core. Because there was only one person who had that kind of power.
“Who are you?” Bridget asked.
Part of her hoped her brain would just tell her the answer. The other part of her just wanted a real name to say. She couldn’t keep calling her the girl, not when she wasn’t one. In fact, Bridget thought she might be a tiny bit older than her.
The girl cocked her head. “Like I said, I’m just like you.”
“What does that mean?” Bridget demanded through gritted teeth. She pinched the side of her leg, hoping it would wake her up or make her scream so Cade would know she was dreaming. He couldn’t be far…
“This would be no fun if I told you,” the girl pouted, despite the conniving glint in her dark blue eyes.
A strange mix of rage and trepidation crept up Bridget’s spine. She didn’t want to be crazy. And there was only one way to find out. A knife lay covered in dust between them. Bridget lunged for it. Hot from the sun, the metal handle singed her palm.
The brunette narrowed her eyes. “Do you really think that is going to hurt me here?”
Bridget twisted the blade until it faced her own body.
“No, I don’t.”
Before the other girl could stop her, she plunged the knife into her stomach.
With a searing gasp, Bridget clutched her stomach and lurched upright. The phantom sting of the blade radiated through her abdomen, heat burning from navel to spine. Her lungs spasmed as she gasped for air, hand flinging sideways in search of Cade. Only a cold, untouched pillow met her fingers.
Panic twisted in her chest. Bridget’s pulse roared in her ears as she scanned the room.
Empty. The fireplace was cold, the coals long dead.
Pale light filtered through the cloudy window, revealing daytime.
For a moment, she feared she was stuck in another dreamworld.
Bridget screamed Cade’s name, the sound low and guttural.
If she’d been asleep, she’d wake to darkness. To fire. To him.
Seconds later, the bathroom door burst open. Cade rushed in, green shirt half-buttoned, damp hair dripping onto his forehead. The sharp scent of citrus and cedar clung to him as he dropped beside her and framed her face with both hands.
“Hey—hey. Look at me. What happened?” His voice was urgent but steady. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”
Bridget leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. She was awake. They’d headed back to his room after they’d grabbed breakfast with Nylah so that he could shower. He’d only been gone a few minutes when she sat down on the bed with an old Elyrian history book.
“I fell asleep?”
Her words came out like a question. She hadn’t been tired. In fact, she never napped. Usually, it was impossible for her to shut off her brain long enough to do so. For her to lean back and close her eyes without even remembering seemed like a wild notion.
The unease brewing in Cade’s eyes told her he agreed. He brushed his fingertips across her forehead and then under her nose. His mouth tightened when he inspected his clean hand. “I don’t feel anyone else. You weren’t making any noise, either, but that doesn’t mean…”
Bridget shook her head. Every sign of magic that should be manifesting on her person wasn’t. Bile stung her throat. “What’s happening to me?”
Because it had to be more than just dreams. Everything about them felt so real. Bridget could still feel the heat of the sun in Olysa and the slice of the blade she’d used on herself. Even when she found herself in Cavamyne, scents she shouldn’t know lingered in the air.
The muscles on Cade’s neck were strained as he said, “I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out. We leave for Andarre in a few days. Maybe being away from all this will help.”
The unwarranted hope and belief on his face almost killed her.
Especially when every time she looked at him, the vision he’d shared from his father flashed through her head.
Bridget winced as she remembered watching herself kill him.
It seemed so impossible, but she couldn’t ignore the growing dread in her gut.
What if she continued blacking out? What if all her dreams were leading to that moment by twisting her brain into something unrecognizable one by one?
The thought had Bridget shooting up off the bed. “Do you know where Marin is right now?”
“She’s probably in her room or with Stellan,” Cade said, following her to the door.
He grabbed her hand before she could open it and twisted her around to face him.
There was a small smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Now I know you said you weren’t jealous over the whole sham engagement plan with Marin, but there’s quite a determined glint in your eyes right now that might make me think differently. ”
Bridget half-heartedly shoved his chest. “What if I was?”
“Then I guess I’d have to find a way to prove to you that there’s no reason to be,” he said, pulling her closer.
“And how exactly would you do that?”
Cade’s darkening eyes sent heat rushing to her core. “Don’t tempt me,” he whispered. His lips brushed against hers.
Bridget’s breath hitched. The desire for him to show her exactly what he had planned almost overwhelmed her.
Her stomach fluttered as she thought how easy it would be to give in and press her lips against his.
To shove him back on the bed and let him help her forget about all the dreams plaguing her.
But as her eyes locked with Cade’s, the sound of the sword piercing his flesh echoed in her ears.
She needed answers. And Marin was the only Shaman who’d always been upfront about their intentions with her.
Bridget let out a shaky breath. It was almost painful to pull away from him. “That almost worked.”
Cade only looked slightly disappointed. “Do you want me to come with you?”
The question froze her. It was her instinct to say yes, but she hated the idea of him knowing just how much the vision had affected her, especially when he was so adamant that it would never come true.
She must have paused longer than she thought, because he suddenly leaned forward and groaned against her neck.
“Your rejections are killing me.”
Bridget pecked his cheek. “I’ll find you later.”
She dashed out of the room before Cade could stop her, feet thudding softly against the stone floor.
She didn’t slow until she rounded the corner past the library.
Only then did her breath begin to even out, her muscles gradually uncoiling with every step.
As she descended the sweeping staircase to the lower floor, she let her fingertips brush the carved railing.
For the first time, Bridget realized she wasn’t hiding as she walked through the palace.
She was just… walking freely. It was unsettling how foreign that felt.
Vases filled with violet blooms lined the corridor, delicate petals curling toward the light like little crowns.
She paused, admiring the rich color, before continuing into the palace’s west wing.
This part of the hall was quieter than it should be.
There were no indications she was even in the right place.
Bridget hesitated at the last hallway, nerves bubbling in her stomach.
She was about to turn back, to find someone who actually knew where Marin lived, when a door creaked open beside her.
Marin’s pale face peeked out. Shadows pooled under her eyes, and her hair was twisted in a loose, careless knot. She looked exhausted.
For a moment, guilt stabbed through Bridget’s chest. She shouldn’t have come. Marin was clearly unwell. And here she was, ready to pour more problems onto someone already carrying too many.
“You’re not very good at hiding your thoughts,” Marin said. “Don’t worry, I’ve known you were coming for a very long time.”