“Will it be the last?”
Bridget’s words had Vega placing the teapot back down before pouring a drop. “So you’ve figured out what I plan to do.”
“If you didn’t want me to, you shouldn’t have left out your creepy book of spells.”
Not only had Vega shown her the crown yesterday, she’d been left alone in her room for almost a half hour… the outline of the curse clear as day on the table. Along with a few others she planned to use afterward.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Vega said. The plea in her voice was just as fake as her actions.
“Yes… it does.” Bridget knew her loyalty wasn’t the only thing Vega wanted. Like the sword, the crown came with a test. A price. And the Druid wanted to use it on more people than just her. “You can’t get it to work otherwise.”
With a flourish, Vega raised her hand and snapped her finger. Helga and a burly guard came running in. She should have known that the meek Nymph hadn’t gone far. The guard’s archer ears and iron clad wrists told Bridget he was just as much a prisoner as she. “TakeHerHighnessto the dungeon,” Vega taunted. “Let’s see if she lasts the hour.”
Bridget stomped down the tiny bit of satisfaction that coursed through her veins. A jaunt in the dungeons was exactly what she needed before tonight. The guard grabbed her elbow and pushed her toward the hallway. The crown heavy in her pocket, Bridget stood her ground in front of Vega. There was one last thing that needed to be said.
“Goodbye, Vega.”
Bridget put every ounce of meaning she could into her words. For a moment, she wished she could see Vega’s face. But it didn’t matter anymore. After this, there was no going back. Not between them.
Vega silently watched her leave the room. The hallway was dark and damp as the guard and Helga led her down to the castle’s lower levels. The entire place was so different than it had been just two years ago. It was almost recognizable. The memories of following Cade down this very pathfelt like a distance dream instead of a real event. The walls were no longer adorned with paintings and imported wallpaper, but flickering torchlight and wilted vines. Instead of lavender in the air, decay permeated every room.
Once the door to the cells entered their line of vision, an imposing sight of rusty nails and darkness, Helga slowed down beside her. The dungeon’s warden sat in a lofty chair at the end of the hall, picking his yellowed teeth with a quill. Even through the thick, spiked door, a cackle reached their ears. Taking a deep breath, Bridget tried her best to ignore the sudden swirling in her gut.
“A new prisoner for cell seven? And a famous one at that.” The warden barked a humorless laugh. With the quill, he jotted down her name on the enchanted roster attached to his hip. Bridget swallowed hard. Her fate was officially sealed. The sign of her name only meant one thing. Her only exit from the dungeon would be her execution.
When the guard and Helga made no move toward the dungeon door, the warden sneered, “What?”
Bridget sighed, nodding her head toward Helga. “She doesn’t want to go in there.” She glanced at the guard. “And if I’m not mistaken, his brother is in there. I doubt he wants to see what state he’s in.”
The warden glowered.
Bridget held out her wrists. “Cuff me, if you must. But it looks like you’re taking me in there.”
With a nasty snarl, the warden snatched his keys from his belt and shoved Bridget toward the door. “That smirk on your face will be wiped off soon enough.”
Bridget didn’t look back to see the guard or Helga’s expressions. She hadn’t stood up for them out of kindness. For the most part.
Once the door was open, the warden pushed her inside. It was darker than Bridget remembered. Or imagined. When the Tuathans had been in charge, hardly anyone was kept in the cells. Some of them had been usedas storage. Now, almost every cell was occupied. Bridget guessed most of the prisoners she passed were people Vega deemed untrustworthy. They were dirty and ragged, but harmless. In appearance, at least. However, the further they went, the crazier tenants acted. One man, covered in the tell-tale black markings of blood magic corruption, leaped onto his bars to wiggle his tongue at her. Another rocked in a corner, muttering things she didn’t quite understand. The stench permeating the air became so strong she could hardly breathe.
Light seemed like a foreign concept by the time they reached her cell. “The whole palace knows about the Queen’s big plans for tonight. I don’t know what you did to spend your last hours in here, Your Highness,” the warned rumbled, “but I do hope you find some enjoyment in this little piece of hell.”
Bridget stared at the speck of light shining through a hole in the ceiling until she heard him lock the cell and pad off back to his station. She closed her eyes. She could do this. Shehadto do this. Cade’s face flashed through her mind. An ache spread through her bones. She really hoped he forgave her.
“I’m surprised to see you down here, Princess.”
The scratchy voice to her right refocused her attention. In the cell next to her, Selene leaned against the bars separating them with narrowed, calculating eyes. She looked worse for wear. The last time Bridget had seen her, she’d been stabbing Cade’s stepfather in the back. Literally. Black goo oozed from her mouth and the corner of her eyes. A few of her teeth were missing and almost all of her once long, beautiful blonde hair was gone. The only thing left of her Tuathan nature was her ears. She’s transformed into a Wraith in every sense. Apparently too out of control even for Vega to be sentenced down here.
“Don’t let Vega hear you call me that,” Bridget replied, daring a smirk.
“What more can she do to me?” Selene cackled, waving at herself. The iron shackles on her wrist looked permanently seared on. “She took everything from me so magic would turn me into this.”
Bridget couldn’t sympathize. It was nobody's fault but her own that she kept giving in pursuit of more magic and power, even her very soul. “I asked to come down here.” She eyed Selene’s thin body just inches from her. “I need your help.”
“I’m not in the helping mood.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Before Selene had a chance to react, Bridget had her first wrapped around the Wraith’s throat, a dagger at her throat. One made of pure iron from the mountains. If Selene was cut with it, only magic would heal her. Magic she clearly couldn’t pay for without wasting away even more.
