Page 26 of Revenge of the Forgotten

“Very well.” Katrin sighed, but Bridger knew her well enough. She wasn’t done. “Marlena mentioned Vega is stirring.”

“And why would she tell you that?” He turned slowly. “Better yet, why do you think I need confirmation of that?” He cocked his head. “As if I couldn’t tell,” Bridger oozed with sarcasm, holding up his wrist with the brand.

She wouldn’t answer him directly, choosing to dance around his question. “Eye on the prize, son. I have a feeling this time around you won’t be able to avoid her like you have in the last few lives.” Katrin reached the door, her hand resting on the knob.

A warning—what did Katrin know that he didn’t?

Bridger chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. “Vega Caelum is at the bottom of my list of things to worry about.” But the dreams I’m having of her aren’t.

Meyer sat in his usual seat with a glass of wine, ignoring the chatter around him when Bridger stalked into the dining room.

“What have I missed?” Bridger asked as he slid into his seat next to Meyer, avoiding eye contact from the others around the table. Every praefecti of Tolevarre was here tonight—all but the three territories that were lost to the rebellion years before. As soon as Bridger sat, a servant sat a deep red glass of wine on the table beside him. Bridger didn’t so much as acknowledge his existence.

In a room full of people who expected him to be the evil he believed himself to be, he must play the part. And Bridger was pretty good at it.

Leaning back in his chair, Meyer let his eyes drift around the table. “Nero and I argued about the age of enlistment and the idea of conscription now that the rebels are causing more trouble. He thinks we’re wasting time and resources.”

Bridger rolled his eyes, meeting the gaze of the praefectus of Littera. For a man with all the knowledge in the world, he sure knew how to put his nose in places it didn’t belong. Nero glanced away.

Meyer continued, “Ivelle asked where you were.”

Ivelle Fugere. If Marlena had a friend, she would be the only one.

Her long white dress flowed down to the floor, spilling around her gold heels with straps ascending as far as the eye could see up the slit of her dress.

She wiggled her fingers in a hello as Bridger’s eyes scraped over her. With her ethereal beauty, she made it impossible to argue that the gods had once been real. It was her rotten heart that made Bridger recoil.

He returned his attention to his general, aware of Ivelle’s continued stare. “Anything else?”

Meyer shook his head as the door to the room slammed open, rattling the hand-painted pictures hanging on the walls.

Marlena’s bright blonde hair was pin-straight down her back, catching the wind as she strutted in like she was on a runway. Her leather pants were lined with knife holsters—adorned with blades she didn’t need to strike any soul in this room dead. Her boots’ heels were made for the dance floor and not a battlefield, clicking against the dark marble as she strode to her seat.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” she asked, like she wasn’t the one who always kept everyone waiting. “I have a lot to go over tonight.” Marlena ran her glassy blue eyes over the people at the table as the servants came by to fill empty wine glasses, and she took her spot at the head of the table. A few members stood, welcoming her.

They didn’t stand out of respect. They stood out of fear.

No one ever questioned why Bridger kept seated.

Marlena glanced around the long rectangular table. “As you know, we’ve almost passed the fifty-five-year mark of my sister’s banishment, and every year, the rebels find new ways to corrupt the people of this realm. The uprisings are getting more frequent, and the amount of rebel camps in the outlying lands of your territories is growing.” She waved her hands, motioning for everyone to sit back down. Chairs shuffled as they got comfortable again. “Commander Dimico and I talked last week. Each territory will be increasing their presence of soldiers. A new base will be set up outside of each city.”

Bridger’s eyes crept over the group of people at the table, watching their expressions at the news. Only one stuck out to him, his eyebrow raising when the youngest praefectus’s gaze met his and then shot back to the table where he was staring a hole through the thick wood. The unmistakable redhead bounced his leg, shaking the rest of his body.

The meeting continued on, menial tasks being given to everyone to keep them sated with what little power Marlena allowed.

“Very well then.” Marlena hummed. “Before we eat, there is one more thing that I’d like to bring to the table. Bridger was kind enough to take time out of his busy schedule to join us tonight, and for good reason.” She moved the focus to him, heads at the table turning to follow her gaze.

Bridger stared her down, ready for the real reason they were all here tonight. He knew Marlena hadn’t brought him all the way here for nothing—which is what this meeting had been thus far.

Marlena smiled at him, painting on a sweet face. “Khort Fera thinks he’s found an ally in the form of a young traveler with a power we’ve never seen before. I’d love for you to meet him. He’d be a wonderful addition to your army.”

Bridger’s brow rose, face scrunched in confusion. “You brought me all this way to have me meet a recruit who’s been assisting Khort in the rebellion?” Bridger huffed an annoyed laugh. “Seems like a waste of my time, don’t you think? And trusting a traveler to do anything but look out for their own agenda is a mistake, Marlena. I shouldn’t have to remind you of that.” Out of the corner of his eye, Bridger saw Katrin tense.

Marlena stood from her seat at the head of the table and walked down the length of the table, making eye contact with each member as she went.

“What is going on, Marlena?” Bridger asked through gritted teeth.

She quieted him with a finger over her lips before speaking. “I’m getting there. Let me have my moment.” Marlena laughed. She ran her finger along an empty corner of the table and stopped when she reached the seat next to Ivelle. The redheaded woman smiled so hard her cheeks might pop.

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