Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
The moment the door closed behind her, Bridget sprinted for the armoire.
She’d spotted what she needed in there yesterday, when she’d been summoned like a dog to Vega’s room.
Their conversation hadn’t been pleasant, but somewhere between the insults and threats, a glimpse of the crown had fueled Bridget’s hopes of a possible win.
Even though time was running out, she just needed one more chance in the room alone.
After that, she’d watched Vega long enough to know what to do next.
Luckily, Vega was stubborn enough to repeat her mistakes.
She knew what Vega wanted her to do. She wanted her to beg.
To plead. To somehow validate the prickle of guilt Bridget knew lived in her somewhere with words of regret.
And since Vega relentlessly pursued what she wanted, she summoned Bridget.
Again. And left her alone, unbound and free, until she deemed Bridget had waited an appropriate amount of time to be graced with her presence.
Almost flinging the wooden door off its hinges, Bridget clawed the space inside until splintered wood grazed her fingertips.
Carefully, she pulled out an old chest. Scratches adorned the sides and the engraved heart on its top was faded and barely visible.
To anyone else, it was a piece of junk. But Bridget knew exactly what lay inside.
Once she got the chest open, the Tuathan crown gleamed in the dim light of Vega’s bedroom, like it was almost daring her to pick it up.
Air fled the room, leaving Bridget’s heartbeat echoing in her ears.
After searching for it for so long, and being beaten to it, she couldn’t believe the object was within her grasp.
It was even more beautiful than legend had described.
The blackness of the metal was deeper than any night sky and the cut of the diamonds placed along its curves outshined every jewel she’d ever seen.
Trepidation ran down Bridget’s spine. Only something with so much raw, dangerous power would be so appealing.
Footsteps sounded from the hallway. Stuffing the crown inside the deep inner pocket of her cloak, Bridget slammed the chest and armoire closed.
Hurrying over to the ornate table in the center of the room, she zeroed in on the other object she needed for her plan.
Pages from Vega’s book of spells. Bridget cringed as she flipped through the thick book.
It had grown in size the last few months and a few of the pages were stained with fresh blood.
The door creaked open. Hoping she remembered the pages right, Bridget ripped out a handful and slid them into the waistband of her pants.
Now, part two of her plan had to be enacted.
Whipping around, she crossed her arms and acted bored.
Vega’s favorite maid wheeled in a cart of tea, too busy fretting over the glass cups to notice Bridget’s actions.
Poor Helga. She knew Vega treated her poorly.
She’d seen it with her own eyes during the few weeks she’d been held prisoner in what was technically her own castle.
Not that her and Cade would ever live here. Vega had seen to that.
Bridget watched Helga shakily pour steaming black liquid into one of the cups. The girl’s black hair fell over her face as she added a lump of sugar and a squeeze of lemon. Vega’s preference. Which meant the Druid herself wasn’t too far behind.
Helga placed Vega’s cup on the table, inches away from Bridget’s hip. With a shaky smile, she trotted back over to the tiny cart. “Would you also like some tea, Your Highness?”
“What did you just call her?”
The hiss from the doorway made Helga drop the empty glass in her hand.
Bridget grimaced as she took in Vega’s appearance in the doorway.
Mask on, like it always was nowadays, the material so thick that her pupils were barely visible.
Metal claws extended from her fingertips, attached together at her wrist by thin silver strings.
The dark blue gown was new, though, despite the bright red drops of blood scattered across the bottom. Where exactly had she come from?
“I thought… I thought that was her title,” Helga answered, her voice a squeaky whisper. “She’s married to the Prince and she’s—”
Vega’s hand was wrapped around Helga’s throat in a flash.
The girl’s heels left the ground. “With or without her recent marriage, she’s still a bastard.
She’s never had a title. Not a real one.
” Once her claws began to draw blood, she dropped the maid to the ground.
“And she never will. The Prince’s claim to the throne is useless now. Now. Get. Out.”
Gasping for breath, Helga scrambled to her feet and darted out of the room.
“Was that necessary?” Bridget asked. “Believe me, I know where I stand in the grand scheme of things.” When Vega ignored her, she knocked the full teacup off the table. “Oops.”
Bridget could almost see the curl of Vega’s lips under her mask. “That was the last of the tea from Suza.”
“If you wanted more, maybe you and your Sanguis shouldn’t have razed it to the ground.” The name tasted ugly on her tongue. It separated them from what they’d done too much. In reality, they were Druids who’d destroyed their homeland by absorbing too much power. After all, all magic had a cost.
“A necessary loss,” Vega argued, her gravelly voice muffled from her mask.
Right. Absorbing enough power to destroy thousands of Tuathans was necessary.
A knot formed in Bridget’s throat. Behind Vega’s head, the hills of Cavamyne sat, scorched and burning.
Last time she’d been outside, the air had been almost unbreathable.
The city’s beauty had long disappeared. “Cavamyne is next.”
“I’m already working on a solution.”
Bridget tilted her head. The words surprised her, enough that she almost asked what she meant. But she held her tongue. Vega wanted her to ask. And pleasing her was the last thing she wanted to do. Bridget scoffed. “Can I go now? I would rather not spend my final hours making small talk with you.”
She’d been told about her execution yesterday.
It’s why she needed to get out of the room and on with her plan as soon as possible.
There were only hours left. Wordlessly, Vega moved to stand in front of her.
Thick silence enveloped them. For a split second, Bridget believed Vega knew her plan and was about to stop her.
Instead, the Druid picked up her left hand and examined the bleeding cut on her index finger.
“The teacup,” Bridget lied.
The Druid loosened her grip. Bridget almost breathed a sigh of relief that Vega hadn’t questioned her further, until the Druid began clawing at the fourth finger on her left hand. Bridget curled her fingers and desperately tried to escape her grip. “What the hell are you doing?”
Bridget screamed when Vega’s nails clawed the back of her hand. The burning pain loosened her muscles, allowing the Druid to slip off what she didn’t want her to steal. Her wedding ring.
“Give it back,” Bridget snarled, darting forward to snatch it out of Vega’s hand.
Before she could reach her, she was flying backwards.
An electric shock radiated through her back as she slammed into the armoire, then flopped to the ground.
Sometimes, she really hated magic. “What do you even want with it?” Bridget demanded.
Her vision focused in time for her to see Vega drop it into a vial before muttering a spell.
Bridget’s heart dropped. She was using it for the curse. She had to be.
After a moment, Vega threw the ring back at her. “You know, I’ve been quite nice. I’ve let you stay in your old room. Didn’t your Prince have it specifically picked out for you?”
“I don’t know if you’ve ever truly been nice a day in your life,” Bridget said, spitting a lob of blood out of her mouth. Somewhere between the armoire and the ground, she’d bitten her tongue. “You put me in my old bedroom because you want something.”
Before she stood up, Bridget gazed at her wedding ring on the stone floor in front of her.
Vega wanted to use it for the curse, that much was obvious.
If she left it, or refused to put it back on, it was a way to thwart her plans.
Even though she knew what Vega wanted was inevitable.
But then she remembered the moment she’d first tried it on in front of Cade.
Bridget slipped the ring back on her finger.
“Is that what you really think?” Vega asked.
Yes, Bridget wanted to argue. But if she was going to be successful, she needed to stay focused. “Put me in the dungeon.”
Underneath the mask, Vega’s eyes narrowed. “I thought I told you what happens tonight.”
“If you’re going to kill me like a prisoner, then treat me like one.” Even though her ankle now throbbed with every step, Bridget made sure she was directly in front of Vega when she demanded, “Put me in the dungeon.”
A hint of a laugh escaped Vega’s throat. “Do you really want their screams to be the last thing you hear?”
The Druid returned her attention to the tea cart. The whispers of what Vega had turned the dungeons into were endless around the castle. Wailing could be heard throughout the night and persistent rumors of escaping Wraiths kept people indoors.
“Will it be the last?”
Bridget’s words had Vega placing the teapot back down before pouring a drop. “So you’ve figured out what I plan to do.”
“If you didn’t want me to, you shouldn’t have left out your creepy book of spells.”
Not only had Vega shown her the crown yesterday, she’d been left alone in her room for almost a half hour… the outline of the curse clear as day on the table. Along with a few others she planned to use afterward.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Vega said. The plea in her voice was just as fake as her actions.