“She left him,” Bridget whispered, her voice barely more than breath, the weight of it sinking deep into her chest. “She wanted us to find him.”
Cade looked up sharply. “You think it’s a trap.”
“Iknowit is.”
Because Vega always left a message.
And this time, Bridget feared, it had only just begun.
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 reliveat 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 wordresthit 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.”
