Bridget’s heart stopped.
It washer.
She was the prisoner.
Not a relative. Not a great-great-great grandmother.Her. There was no denying it. No second guessing. Even if the prisoner’s hair was longer and the skin on the back of her hands was smooth. Bridget knew herself.
Stumbling backward, Bridget ran into a hard chest. She whipped around and found herself face-to-face with Stellan. Or a different version of him. One that belonged in a medieval television show or renaissance faire. With a hood covering mostof his face, he somberly watched the scene unfolding yards away.
“What is this?” Bridget asked.
When Stellan didn’t answer, she reached for the edge of his hood to get his attention. Her hand slipped through his head, like he was a projection. That’s when she realized he couldn’t see or hear her at all.
This was his memory.
Bridget turned back to the gate. The masked woman chanted, barely loud enough to hear. Others around her, all in similar masks, did the same. The torches around the gate blazed and sparked the longer they went on.
Raising her metal claws in the air, the center woman silenced them. “Bring it forward.”
Two soldiers, with black ooze dripping from the mouth and eyes, laid a box at the woman’s feet. Bridget jumped when her old self turned her head in her direction. She followed her eye-line, expecting to find Stellan, but instead…
Cade.
Heart thundering, Bridget ran over to him. Her arms itched to throw themselves around him, but she knew they would just go right through him. Instead, she settled on just looking at him. It’d been so long…
But he wasn’t her Cade, though. He was older, battle worn, and had scars on his cheek and forehead… and arched ears. Bridget peeked at his neck. Snaking, blue Tuathan tattoos disappeared under his shirt. His family’s royal crest was embedded on the upper clasp of his jacket.
Bridget took a frenzied step back, her body already processing what her mind struggled to comprehend. He was… They were…
Composure breaking, Cade took a frantic lunge forward. Stellan caught him before he made it far.
“You can’t,” he whispered, barely holding back Cade who twisted and turned in his arms.
She’d been so distracted by Cade, she’d forgotten what was going on behind her. Bridget whirled around and found the other Bridget on her knees. The masked woman held a daggerin the air. Hands trembling, she realized exactly what memory Stellan was giving her.
The creation of the curse on the humans.
It’d been her all along. Her blood, her ring, at Cavamyne.
It’s why her memories remained intact after she’d returned. Why Alexia’s did, too. Why Marin had been so insistent about the timing when she’d sent her through the gate with Archer.
Her death had broken the curse.
An accident, she realized. Quinn’s goal hadn’t been about her curse.
Which meant…
The moment the knife went through the other Bridget’s chest, Cade fell to his knees. Bridget followed him. Gasping for breath, he stared up at Stellan. “Do it.”
Stellan’s eyes remained on the other Bridget’s now lifeless body. His grip on Cade had completely disappeared.
Struggling to breathe, Cade hurriedly grabbed Stellan’s cloak and pulled him down to his level. “You said it has to be now. Do it!”
A scream echoed from the gate. In a ghastly, beastly voice, the masked woman howled, “WHERE IS IT?”
The explosion of activity surrounding the gate seemed to bring Stellan back to his senses. Shakily, he reached into his cloak and pulled out the Bloodstone. It glowed as Stellan closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath. Moments later, he unsheathed his dagger. On the ground beside Cade, Bridget couldn’t take her eyes off him. He almost looked relieved and—
Stellan held the knife above Cade’s chest. Bridget scrambled away. Unable to watch. Unable to—
