“I need to find Maddox.” To tell him I’m not angry. Not anymore. I want to ask why he bothered to tell that lie in the first place. If he can forgive me for treating him so awfully. If he’s still interested in me.
“Here. Take Biscuits, and I’ll see if there’s any news from across the bridge.” Kerris shoves the goat at me, and I’ve no choice but to hold him or drop him.
The tiny beast glowers like it’s my fault his snooze has been disturbed.
Kerris can’t go. She’s needed here at the castle. “Wait! I need to be the one to go.” I hand Biscuits back, and she cradles him against her chest.
“You can’t cross the bridge. You’re afraid of heights.”
I’ll just have to set my fears aside, won’t I? “It needs to be me.”
She stares at me for the longest time, her gaze penetrating, before she slowly nods. “All right. But I want you to take one of the guards with you in case you meet trouble on your way.” Biscuits bobbles in her arms as she jogs toward the men in black leathers at the gate. “John? Will you accompany my cousin to the Unseelie lands?”
I don’t want John to come with me but know better than to argue.
The young fae bobs his head with a rushed, “Yes, Your Highness.”
She thanks him and then turns back to me. “If you don’t have any luck, we can discuss our next steps with Ever. He can speak with the Chieftain about organizing a search party.”
Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that.
I’ve ventured to The Divide a handful of times before, but never right to the edge and never, ever across the bridge. The new one they’re building will be wider and sturdier—if they ever finish the damn thing. Perhaps I’ll be more likely to cross once it’s done.
The current bridge, however, is a hodgepodge of planks connecting two mammoth tree trunks.
Legends say The Divide has no bottom, that if you were to fall in, you’d keep falling forever. They also say the tear in the land was created because of a woman’s rage at her unfaithful Unseelie mate.
With the anger over Nolan’s betrayal still lodged in my chest, I believe it.
My slippers meet dirt, and I carefully make my way closer to the start of the bridge. The trees look as if they are being held up by nothing but the thick fog enveloping the Unseelie half of the bridge.
I can do this. It’s just a simple bridge. The Unseelie cross all the time. Maddox brought his unicorn and carriage across.
And nearly fell in.
He didn’t, though. That’s what matters. He made it to our side, and if I ever see him again, I’m going to tell him how glad I am that he chose to live in Rosehill.
Notif.
When.
I am going to see him again. I am.
“Are you all right, Miss Nia?” John asks. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
It wouldn’t be the most mortifying thing that has happened to me this week—or even today.
This bridge isn’t going to cross itself.
I take a deep breath, stretch my foot toward the first plank, and . . .
I’m fine. I’m standing on the bridge, and everything is just fine besides the fact that I’m this close to vomiting. Thankfully, there’s a rope to hang onto, but why is it so flimsy?
I manage another step forward before my legs lock once more. “Why is it moving so much?” Surely something meant to be sturdy isn’t supposed to sway like this.
“That’s just what the bridge does,” John says.
Well, it shouldn’t. “Have you crossed before?”
