There were so many things heknew. About her. About Cade. About Elyria’s future. Though she doubted he would be too forthcoming withthatinformation.
A million questions ran through Bridget’s mind, but each one got stuck in her throat. Where to even start? She glanced at her broken emerald ring, and then at Stellan, only to find him already watching her, patient andexpecting. Had he seen this moment? The pressure of asking the right questions mounted in her chest even further.
The beginning, that was the only placetostart. And how she even survived and remembered at all. “How did the curse break?”
Stellan’s eyebrows raised. So maybe he hadn’t seen this conversation. “I thought you learned your curse lore in Elyria.”
“I did, but…” Bridget glanced down at her ring again. A ring that had almost been lost so many times. And brought back to her in two very unexpected ways. Luck… or fate?
“It was yours,” Stellan said, nodding at the ring on her finger. “In some weird, twisted way, Vega must have thought she was being funny, using it for the curse. Bronwyn said your family took it before you were buried. It looks like they kept it in the family. They should have thrown it in the ocean when they had the chance.”
Part of Bridget wanted to bristle at his words, she wouldn’t have her memories without the ring. But a broken curse meant a greater chance of Vega escaping Iegorus. From the shadows dancing behind his eyes, Bridget knew that was the last thing Stellan wanted. As she slowly processed his statement, another slip-up, or fact, sent her reeling.
“I’mburiedsomewhere?”
She wanted to vomit. And find the grave. Or completely forget the notion. Forever. The thought ofseeingit was completely…
“Believe me, obsessing over the past will only make you go crazy,” Stellan said. A ghost of a chuckle escaped his chest. “You won’t find it. I promise. Besides, I was still asleep when it happened. I couldn’t help you if I tried.”
Bridget buried the urge to inspect the ring down to the last chisel to see if the past was somehow imprinted on the stone for her to read. Or hurl it toward the woods. She wasn’t exactly sure which action she wanted to accomplish most. What she did know was how strange it was to be wearing something so old… something that washersthat had traveled through time to belong to her again. The ring had always been the nicest, most expensivething she owned. Throughout the years, she’d fought off foster family after foster family to keep it. “Was it you?”
When Stellan tilted his head, she continued, “A Shaman is the one who told my father in Andarre to send Cora to bring me back… According to Alexia, anyway.”
She couldn’t believe the sentence coming out of her mouth.Her father. The idea that he was out there somewhere was mind boggling. Had it been that same Shaman’s idea to also send her away?
It was a long time before Stellan answered. “I haven’t been to Andarre in over a century.”
Part of her was relieved it hadn’t been him… She wasn’t sure if she could look him in the eye or trust that he would protect Nylah if he had. Beside her, Stellan gripped the porch’s wooden railing, his knuckles white. Bridget didn’t have to look at his face to know he was struggling with not being able to say more. “Who was I?” she asked instead. “Or is that also something you don’t remember?”
It was the question that scared her the most. Who had she been to have this ring? To catch a prince and incur Vega’s wrath, in one fell swoop?
For a split second, Bridget thought she saw the girl from her dream on the porch behind Stellan, her dark hair covered in snow. But after a panicked blink, she was gone. After checking her nose for blood, Bridget dug her nails into her thigh. No blood. No magic. Alexia’s words had made her paranoid.
With a faraway look in his blue eyes, Stellan didn’t seem to notice. The corners of his mouth turned up, just slightly. “From what I do remember… you were an ordinary, human girl.”
There was no loathing, or disdain, dripping from his voice like the other Shamans in Elyria had when they talked about humans. Instead, there was so muchappreciation, Bridget wasn’t sure what to say. Clearing her throat, she waved her hand dramatically in front of her face. “Am I the same?”
Shocking her, Stellan cracked asmile. “For the most part.”
In that moment, it reminded her so much of Cade, it took her breath away. “Cade… in your memory, he was Tuathan. If I’m the same… shouldn’t he be?”
“He still is... and he still is Tuathan. It’s how I knew exactly who he was when he was born,” Stellan said, lips twisting as he rubbed the top of his arched ears. “There was no other possible explanation. Deckard couldn’t believe it. You should have seen his face, especially after the hours I spent trying to explain… He made me spell Cade to hide his Tuathan features. It should hold, as long as we're both alive.”
“Deckardknows?” Bridget seethed. Just like her father. Like everyone else buther, it seemed. “No wonder he hates me.”
“It might be hard to believe… but he loves his son. He thinks he’s protecting him.”
Bridget frowned. Fromher? Or from what he believed they would unleash if they were together? And if Cade was really Tuathan… “I saw enough in Elyria to know that Cade is powerful. But his powers, they’re not like the rest of the Shamans. Magic still takes a toll on him.”
Every ounce of good nature dropped from Stellan’s face. A muscle in his jaw flexed as he struggled to answer.
Bridget sighed. “Okay, the answer to that question is obviously somewhere in your lost memories. The spell… curse, whatever you want to call it, must have somehow diminished them?”
Stellan remained silent.
“Can you fix it?” Bridget asked.
Stellan sighed. It was a long time before he answered. “That is a very good question…”
