Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
Heat pounded against Bridget’s back as she stood motionless beneath the shower, steam curling around her like a second skin.
She had no idea how long she’d been standing there, frozen in place, letting the water scald her until her skin tingled.
It didn’t matter. Nothing could wash away the images etched into her mind like scars: Archer flying into the wall.
A burning Wraith. Endless black sludge. Blood.
Constant blood. Marin and Quinn’s crumpled bodies.
Deckard and a legion of guards had barged into the courtyard seconds after Marin took her last breath. Their bodies had quickly been removed. She didn’t know where to.
She didn’t understand it—how the sword had felt like an extension of herself, how her hands had moved as if answering muscle memory she didn’t know she had. It had been instinct. Like something ancient had woken up inside her. Despite the heat of the water, she shivered.
Archer and Finn were fine, she told herself.
They were both in the other room with Nylah, playing a game and trying to make her laugh despite the heaviness in the air.
Cade had turned on the shower for her… had placed a soft kiss against her lips and whispered that he’d be waiting for her. But Stellan…
A sharp ache coiled through her chest. His grief had been unbearable to watch.
When her body had been lifted from the ground, he’d stormed out of the courtyard before anyone could stop him.
She wondered where he was now and hoped someone was with him.
And with Cassia, too. Castor had paled when they’d told him what happened and rushed to find her.
Bridget drew in a slow breath and finally reached for the knob, shutting off the water.
The silence afterward rang louder than the storm.
She dried off with aching limbs and slipped into a pair of leggings and a dark blue sweater.
Her damp hair clung to her skin, soaking into the wool.
Heavy bags hung beneath her storm-dark eyes.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept.
And couldn't think of a reason to try. The day felt endless, and the moon had only just begun to rise.
She laced up her boots with stiff fingers and padded back into Cade’s room.
Archer, Finn, and Nylah sat on the floor in front of one of the fireplaces.
A board game she didn’t recognize lay between them.
Bandages were wrapped around Finn’s neck and Archer held up a bag of ice to his temple given to him by the healers in the infirmary.
They were both too busy arguing about the rules to notice Nylah sneaking a peak at their cards.
But there was one thing missing. Cade. The power was still out so Bridget grabbed a flashlight from his desk drawer. The guilt on his face had been impossible to ignore. She needed to find him before it ate him alive.
Nylah noticed her movements and placed her cards face down on the floor. “Where are you going?”
Despite her assurances that she was fine, an underlying fright hadn’t left her gaze. And it was no longer full of blissful innocence. The thought made Bridget’s stomach twist. She glanced at the amethyst necklace she’d forced around her sister’s neck. At least she was protected now.
“The attic,” Finn answered. His knowing gaze cut to Bridget. “There’s a ladder to the roof in there.”
Bridget nodded, hoping Finn sensed the overwhelming gratitude rushing through her veins that he knew where to find his best friend.
Clicking on the flashlight, she took off to the servant stairwell hidden behind the library.
The stone steps groaned beneath her boots, the air growing colder the higher she climbed.
The attic greeted her with a musty hush, dust thick in the air.
She sneezed as it hit her nose, brushing cobwebs away with one hand as she carefully made her way through the maze of draped furniture and forgotten trunks.
At last, her beam of light caught the outline of a steel ladder stretching up through a half-open skylight.
It looked barely functional. The metal was rusted and rickety. But she didn’t hesitate.
The metal groaned in protest as she climbed.
When Bridget emerged onto the roof, wind tore at her damp sweater and lashed her hair across her face.
Her gaze locked on Cade. He sat near the edge, his back to her.
His feet dangled off the narrow stone ledge as if the drop below didn’t exist. Gravel crunched softly beneath her boots as she stepped forward.
He didn’t turn. Wordlessly, Bridget lowered herself beside him and mirrored his pose.
Shoulder to shoulder, legs hanging into the darkness.
Finally, his golden-brown eyes met hers. Frowning, Cade brushed the ends of her damp hair.
Reading his mind, Bridget said, “That’s an old wives’ tale. I went without heat for a long time in New York one year to figure that out.”
Silence enveloped them. Bridget laced her fingers between his and laid her head on his shoulder. Her heart ached as she waited for him to speak. She could feel the weight of the day hanging between them.
After a long moment, Cade turned his head and pressed his lips into her hair.
Hoarsely, he whispered, “This is where I came after Riker died. It was the only place that could get rid of that final terrible moment out of my head.” His voice broke.
After clearing his throat, he continued, “Right after it happened, I lost control of my abilities. Everyone’s thoughts invaded my mind, including their grief.
It didn’t silence until I crossed the gate. ”
Bridget bit the inside of her cheek, the sting behind her eyes burning harder. Cade rarely spoke about Riker. About what came before. She didn’t dare move.
“I came here after Cavamyne, too. You went through the gate and I wasn’t sure…” Cade paused again. His grip on her fingers tightened. “I used to sit here and think it should’ve been me. I should’ve been the one taking that bullet. I would look down at my hands and still see your blood.”
Bridget finally turned her head. “Cade…”
His jaw was clenched, hard enough to tremble. The look in his eyes twisted something deep inside her.
“Marin could’ve survived if she already wasn’t so weak from taking that damned consequence from me,” he muttered, voice rough with guilt. “Maybe if the powers I supposedly used to have weren’t buried somewhere inside me, I could have helped her.”
“You don’t know that,” Bridget said softly. She reached up and stroked his cheek, flinching at how cold his skin felt under her fingers. “Besides, she chose those things. She chose to protect you. And Nylah.”
Bridget closed her eyes, the image of Marin jumping in front of Nylah like a knife to her gut. Quietly, she confessed, “When I went to find her yesterday, she said she was working toward a future where we win. This must have been part of it.”
Don’t blame yourself. Is this what she had been talking about? Had she seen the cost of protecting Nylah and chosen it anyway?
Cade stared out at the horizon, jaw taut. No stars were visible through the dark clouds. “Everything I’ve done has been with the sole intent of making sure you don’t lose your family like I did… Now I did that to Stellan.”
Bridget’s hand tightened around his. She knew those words would haunt him longer than anything Vega could conjure.
“At least you’re safe now,” she whispered. “And we have the Bloodstone. No one can use it to break the curse on the Sanguis anymore.”
He nodded faintly.
“We’ll take it back to the vault tomorrow. It’ll be sealed and out of reach from anyone else Vega tries to use from Iegorus.” His voice dropped. “But that doesn’t mean it’s over. You heard what Marin said. We still have to find the crown. Vega won’t stop.”
Cade looked at her, eyes rimmed with exhaustion, but something steadier beat beneath it.
“Then let’s start right now,” Bridget said. “Let’s make sure her final wishes come true.”
She leaned in and pressed her forehead against his, eyes fluttering shut.
She didn’t know how they’d find the crown—or if Stellan would ever be willing to help them again.
But for now, in this fragile moment between grief and what came next, she let herself breathe and hope that fate wasn’t in complete control.
The palace halls were quiet as Bridget followed Cade to Stellan’s room.
Her boots echoed softly on the stone floor as they entered the east wing, past shuttered windows and darkened sconces.
Every room they passed felt like it was holding its breath.
They didn’t dare look into the ruined courtyard as they passed.
“What if he's not there?” Bridget asked. There was a chance he wouldn’t even speak to them. If he didn’t, she wouldn’t blame him. She couldn’t imagine what she’d be doing if it had been Nylah taken in the courtyard.
“Then we track down Castor and Cassia and figure out a new plan,” Cade said, shoulders tense. “If you really were the last person to see the crown, then there has to be a way to access your memories.”
When they reached Stellan’s door, they both hesitated. Cade took a deep breath, then knocked. Once. Twice. “Stellan?”
Silence.
Bridget reached for the handle and twisted it. Without any resistance, it popped open.
The room was dim, lit only by moonlight streaking through the tall windows.
Stellan sat in a chair by the fire that had long since gone out, Marin’s cloak clutched in his fists like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
His shoulders were hunched, his head bowed. He didn’t look up.
“What are you doing here?” Stellan asked, his voice low, hoarse, and frayed at the edges.
Cade placed a hand gently on the small of Bridget’s back, guiding her forward before stepping in behind her and quietly closing the door. “We need your help.”
Stellan gave a bitter, hollow laugh. “Is that right?”