Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
The sun hung low, bleeding gold and amber through the thick canopy as their horses picked their way toward a clearing. The fading light revealed the silhouette of a broken-down tavern. Its crooked frame leaning against time and neglect. A cold shiver crawled up Bridget’s spine.
She knew this place. Or at least she used to. In the past, she frequented the establishment. Back then, it had been bursting with life and noise. A place to forget about the brewing war that was surrounding the land.
A place where a human and a Tuathan met nearly five centuries ago without knowing what the future held.
The thought made her chest tighten. She glanced at Cade’s tired form as the group dismounted silently.
Bridget’s boots crunched over shattered wood and fallen beams as she pushed open the heavy door, wincing at the creak that echoed through the empty, ruined interior.
Her eyes darted across the shadowed corners, searching for any sign of Nylah. But the place was bare.
Only buried memories seem to lay inside. Ones that she couldn’t bear to relive at the moment.
A low voice broke through her mounting frustration.
“We should rest here for a while,” King Deckard suggested, his gaze sweeping the weary faces around them.
Bridget stiffened. The word rest hit her like a punch. How could they stop now? Time was wasting away and Nylah was still missing. She opened her mouth to protest, but Delphine’s hand on her arm silenced her.
“We’ve made good time,” Delphine said softly. “We won’t get far without some rest. Even just a little sleep will make a difference.”
Her eyes met Cade’s across the firelight. There was a quiet understanding in his gaze. And the subtle nod of his head silenced something stubborn inside her. Swallowing the rising panic, Bridget forced herself to relent, though the knot in her stomach tightened with every heartbeat.
Outside, the soldiers began gathering wood for a fire.
Flames soon crackled, casting flickering shadows that danced against the tavern’s decaying walls.
Bridget’s eyes, however, remained fixed on Finn, who was tied loosely to a gnarled tree not far from the fire.
His expression was unreadable, but she couldn’t shake the suspicion or gnawing fear of what Vega might still be hiding inside him.
She swallowed hard and looked away, forcing herself to focus on the firelight instead of the dark unknowns waiting just beyond the camp.
From inside the old tavern, she could hear Cade, his father, Stellan, and Castor deep in conversation.
Delphine and Cassia had already fallen asleep in one of the upstairs rooms, despite their insistence that Bridget join them.
Instead, she remained with the soldiers.
Something about their presence now felt familiar.
Archer wrapped his arm around her shoulder and handed her a roll of bread.
“Are you going to go talk to him?” he asked, nodding at Finn. “Or I could. I’m not very good at interrogations, but I think I could ask him the right questions.”
Bridget hadn’t failed to notice how he’d been watching Finn with concern since they’d found him. He’d even lent him a potion that was supposed to help with the cut on his head.
“No, I’ll do it,” she said quietly, meeting Archer’s gaze. “There’s still more I want to ask him about Nylah.”
It’d almost been twenty-four hours since she’d last taken one of Stellan’s concoctions for her. She desperately hoped her symptoms hadn’t gotten too bad.
“Good luck,” Archer replied with a half-smile, taking one last glimpse of Finn before heading into the tavern.
Bridget squared her shoulders and stepped closer to Finn, who sat slumped against a tree, hands tied in front of him. The firelight caught the angry red of the wound on his temple.
“How are you feeling?” Bridget asked softly, trying to keep her voice steady despite the knot twisting in her stomach.
“A little better,” Finn said, voice hoarse but steady. “Archer’s potion helped with the headache.”
Relief flickered in Bridget’s chest, but it was quickly swallowed by doubt. She pushed forward, questions spilling out before she could stop herself. “What do you remember? How was Nylah? Did she seem… alright?”
His eyes darkened, shadows flickering behind them. “She’s fine.” The word hung in the air, but something about his tone made her skin prickle. There was a shift… subtle but unmistakable. “I’m glad you came to talk to me, Bridget.”
Her heart stumbled in her chest. “What do you mean? You don’t usually give answers like that.”
Finn was one of the most descriptive people she knew. Direct, and his words never held a second meaning.
A slow, mocking smile curved his lips, one that didn’t belong to Finn. “I knew you wouldn’t resist getting me alone. It’s so like you to act first and think later, especially when it involves someone you love.”
A chill slid down Bridget’s spine. Before she could scream, Finn surged his hand into Bridget’s side, piercing his fingers into the cut still festering from Cassia’s blood spell.
The pressure wasn’t just physical, it was like a dark pulse of power twisted beneath her skin.
A sinister echo of the magic Vega wielded.
Burning fire radiated through every vein in her body, until it consumed her completely.
When Bridget opened her eyes, she couldn’t feel her body.
In fact, she felt like a floating head, watching a televised version of her life.
An invisible wall she couldn’t break through seemed to separate her and the real world.
She tried to scream as she felt herself sit up and brush the dirt and snow from her hair.
No one may be able to hear you scream, a voice purred inside her head, smooth and bitter, but I still can. So if you could keep it down…
The sound of her voice split something deep inside Bridget. It had been so long since she’d really heard her. Not the haunting fragments in dreams, her the full presence.
And even now, some hollow, broken part of her heart ached with familiarity.
She hated it. She hated that a part of her always missed her sister.
But she also had another one to protect.
Where’s Nylah? I’ll do whatever you want. Just let the others find her.
Vega ignored her. Bridget’s body didn’t freeze or tremble with the words she’d shouted internally, like she wanted. Instead, it moved easily, confidently, like it belonged to Vega. The disconnect was nauseating. She couldn’t even clench her fists.
A shuffle came from her right. Her head—Vega’s head—turned toward it, eyes landing on a young soldier jogging up the slope toward her. His breath came in fast puffs, concern etched between his brows.
“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes darting to the snow she’d collapsed in seconds ago. “I saw you fall over.”
Run, Bridget begged him, voice useless in her own skull. Get away from me.
But her mouth curved upward in a soft, reassuring smile. “I came over to talk to him, but he’d already fallen asleep,” Bridget heard herself say. “Then I tripped over one of the roots.”
Bridget screamed no inside her skull, powerless to stop the flick of her lashes or the softness in her tone as Vega—in her skin—tilted her head just so.
The soldier blinked. His shoulders eased a fraction. Concern softened into something else… something Bridget recognized instantly...
He was charmed. And completely oblivious.
Nausea curled in her gut.
But her body stood steady, chin lifted in the twilight.
“You sure?” the soldier asked, eyes darting from her face down to the hem of her cloak, where snow clung to the edges. “You scared the hell out of me for a second.”
“Truly,” Vega replied smoothly, voice laced with sincerity. “Thank you for checking.”
Bridget wanted to shake him. But all she could do was watch as the guard gave her a crooked smile.
“You should head inside,” he said, gesturing back toward the crumbling tavern. “The fire’s going and—”
His voice cut off, his gaze catching on something behind her.
Bridget’s body turned slowly. Vega’s composure didn’t crack, but Bridget’s panic spiked the moment she saw what the guard was staring at.
Finn.
He was still slumped against the tree, tied up as they’d left him. But now, a thin stream of blood trickled from his nose, painting a crimson line down the corner of his mouth. Unconscious, his head lolled slightly.
The soldier took a half-step forward. “Is he okay?”
Vega didn’t answer right away. Her eyes—Bridget’s eyes—lingered on Finn a moment too long.
Bridget’s blood turned to ice. Don’t you dare hurt him, she hissed inwardly.
But Vega only turned back to the guard and smiled again, this time with a hint of mischief. “I’ll check on him. You should go warm up. You’ve done more than enough.”
The guard hesitated, but the smile worked again, just enough to send him walking back toward the fire.
As soon as his footsteps faded, Vega turned back to Finn.
And Bridget screamed again inside her own head. Is he going to be alright?
Probably. He won’t remember what happened, though. Unfortunately for you.
Seconds later, Bridget felt the shift in her posture, the smooth grace of her movements as she turned away from the tree and Finn. She didn’t rush. She didn’t check if Finn was breathing. She didn’t look back. She simply started walking.
Each step through the brittle grass and soot-blackened snow felt like a betrayal Bridget couldn’t stop. Her limbs moved with easy purpose, like she belonged here. Like she wasn’t wearing someone else’s life.
The tavern loomed ahead, its warped silhouette caught in the fading gold of the sun. Smoke curled upward from the fire pit nearby, where the soldiers gathered. They stayed seated as she pushed the crooked tavern door open.
Cade was the first to see her.
His head snapped up, golden eyes locking on hers. Bridget felt the crackle of tension that passed between them, even from yards away. He stood quickly, a question rising to his lips. His eyes searched her face.