“Magic, obviously,” Alexia mumbled.
When Archer pulled her up, Bridget found the Shaman already glaring at Alexia. “That’s enough. It’s time we all had a little talk.”
Chapter eleven
Bridget gripped Nylah’s hand as she followed the Shaman, careful not to get too close. She kept her eyes glued to the back of his blond head and wished she could borrow Cade’s powers for a few seconds to figure out his plan. What did he know about her past? And why help them at all? More than anything, Bridget wanted answers. She knew better than anyone, though, that Fae magic always came with a cost. Out of the corner of her eye, she checked Nylah’s demeanor for any sign of negative effects from the Shaman’s potion. In Elyria, magic had almost always had an immediate physical effect on her. When Bridget deemed her perusal of her sister was satisfactory, she straightened her spine. Even if he had helped Nylah, she wouldn’t let the Shaman anywhere near her sister, or let him try to use her as a bargaining chip.
After a few minutes, the Shaman began to lead them down a trail that was all too familiar to Bridget. The root-filled, slippery path had taken them in circles for hours. Before she had a chance to protest their direction, Archer’s loud groan echoed throughoutthe empty forest.
“We walked this trail about ten times,” he called out. “The only things this way are dead trees and a porta-potty that should have been decommissioned about ten years ago. Ask the ray of sunshine behind me.”
“I still can’t believe you forced me to use that thing,” Alexia growled.
The Shaman waved his hand. Seconds later, another path appeared to their left. This one was more shrouded and rockier than any others in the park. With a wry grin, he said, “Remember when you two couldn’t find the gate back to Astraeus last month? I pulled the same little trick here. Camouflage is one of my specialties. Or curses. Depending on how you want to look at it. Many kings have taken advantage of it over the years.”
“Along with prophecy,” Bridget added. Like Marin. Like many of the other Shamans she’d come across in Elyria. Ominous warnings about the future seemed to flow from their mouths every second. Bridget couldn’t stop herself from giving him a sideways glare. How much knowledge about her and her future was locked up inside his head?
“And this.” With another flick of his wrist, the Shaman froze falling snowflakes midair. Seconds later, their assault continued. He continued, “Most Tuathans have some sort of gift of sight. Mine happens to be stronger than others... But like I said, I only see certain things. Important things. I can’t control when or how they happen. And it’s always…”
“Changing,” Bridget finished for him. Isn’t that what she’d always heard about the future? Isn’t that why Cade constantly fought against his father?
He must have heard the optimism in her voice because he suddenly stilled. Blue eyes stormy, he warned, “Some things are too big to change. Some things are fate.”
Bridget’s throat tightened under the intensity of his gaze. Whatever desire she had about knowing her future disappeared from her body. His tone promised nothing but darkness.
“Why hide this trail?” Archer asked, breaking her out of her swirling thoughts. “This part of the park doesn’t look like it gets many visitors.”
“Maybe, but this path leads to my house. I didn’t want any lost hikers coming across a cabin full of Elyrian relics.”
“Relics? Like what?” Nylah asked.
“Most of it wouldn’t be interesting to you, but I do happen to have a spoon that will change colors if it’s dipped in poison.”
Nylah grinned. “Cool.”
“How long have you lived here?” Bridget asked.
The Shaman shrugged. “A few years.”
A minute later, the tree line broke and a cabin appeared. Nestled in a meadow, its wooden structure radiated an otherworldly aura.Magic. Even as a human, Bridget could practically taste it in the air the closer they stepped. She snuck a glance at the Shaman. Theories of who he could be swirled in her head. Without using a key, he opened the painted front door of the cabin with a flick of his wrist.
Before she could follow him inside, a hand on Bridget’s wrist froze her in place. The movement jostled Nylah’s hand out of her grasp and brought her chest to chest with her least favorite person.
Alexia whispered, “This feels like a trap.”
“Rude,” Nylah muttered.
Rolling her eyes, Bridget said, “Don’t pretend to be concerned about our wellbeing.”
“That’s the last thing on my mind,” Alexia scoffed. “But if I’m going to save my family, I need you back in Andarre in one piece.”
Archer grabbed Bridget’s shoulders and pulled her away from Alexia’s stiff demeanor. Clicking his tongue, he chastised, “Ladies, this is not the time for a cat fight.”
Alexia blinked at him. “I don’t have a cat.”
Suppressing the urge to laugh, Bridget ripped her arm out of Alexia’s bruising grasp. “He doesn’t mean literally. Look, I’m not sure whether I trust him either, but he’s the only one on this side of the gate that might be able to help us cross it and get us the answers we need.”
Brows raised, Archer turned to her. “Answers?”
