Page 43 of Revenge of the Forgotten

Marlena and her followers forgot that a long time ago.

Bridger and Meyer picked up their pace on horseback, stopping just a couple hours outside of Stella to let the horses rest and hydrate at a runoff from the mountains.

Meyer broke the silence. “What are you going to tell Marlena? We should have our stories straight.”

Bridger’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no story to tell. You got knocked out, I got stabbed, and Arlet got away with Vega.” His lie came out with such ease that even he might have believed himself if he didn’t know the truth.

That I’m a crumbling fucking liar.

The truth was that Arlet had won this round—he’d let her manipulation work, winning a battle she had no business walking out of unscathed.

Meyer knelt and cupped his hands together, bringing the fresh water to his lips before splashing it on his face to rinse the dirt and grime of the day away.

Bridger didn’t bother cleaning up. He took a sip of water and stood back up.

“Don’t you think she’s going to find it hard to believe that the Videri without powers outsmarted us?” Meyer always had a way of asking questions Bridger didn’t want to answer.

“I’m sick of caring about what Marlena thinks, Meyer.” Bridger’s annoyance turned to anger, raising the temperature of his blood. “Arlet Videri is stronger than any of us will ever understand, and she isn’t the person she was fifty-five years ago. She knocked your ass out with ease… Are you embarrassed by that? Is that why you’re so adamant that I did something wrong?”

Meyer bit the inside of his lip, frustration marring his features. He puffed air out of his pursed lips, scratching the back of his neck before speaking. “I’m just saying that maybe these dreams are getting to you and?—”

The ground rumbled before Bridger exploded with his building irritation. His bonded dagger flew out of the holster on his leg and landed in his right hand. “And I’m telling you to drop it! Now!” Bridger dug his feet into the bank’s grass, keeping his distance from Meyer because his fury was a risk to the safety of others—hurting Meyer wasn’t something he’d ever considered, but Bridger felt himself slipping day by day, the torment of his dreams eating away at him. He couldn’t trust himself not to mess up everything he’d sacrificed for.

Meyer’s hands shot up in surrender, eyes wide. “Bridger,” he said, barely breathing.

What the fuck is happening to me?

“Time to go,” Bridger growled, resheathing his dagger. He mounted his horse and didn’t turn back to make sure that Meyer was following.

Word traveled fast in Stella.

Marlena barged through the front door of her estate with her guards and Ivelle on her heels. “Where is she?” she roared.

Marlena’s guards were for show—she hadn’t needed them since the night she overthrew the Curia, since the night she summoned the twelve original gods and survived.

Bridger’s horse shuttled back quickly, nostrils flaring as she picked her head up. He pulled back on the reins, settling her down in the face of danger. “She got away.” Bridger looked down at Marlena from his mare, her hooves clacking against the stone drive in nervous steps.

“What do you mean?” Marlena’s teeth were bared, eyes fixed on Bridger with intent to kill.

“Arlet stabbed me, knocked Meyer out. And. Got. A. Way.” The last few words Bridger slowed down, really enunciating the last two he spoke.

Bridger dismounted, pulled the reins over the horse’s head, and handed them over to a servant. Meyer caught eyes with Bridger, sending him what was certainly a look of good luck and don’t die as he put as much distance as possible between himself and the fire Marlena was about to rage.

Marlena’s eyes fell to the blood soaking into Bridger’s uniform. “You let Arlet beat you? Arlet, the Videri without an ounce of power.” Her voice was seething.

“Marlena, don’t be dim. Do you still believe Arlet went through the summoning just like the rest of us and came out of it completely unchanged?” He cocked his head, standing in front of the hot-headed blonde. Bridger wouldn’t reveal Arlet’s powers, even after being stabbed by her. “She’s not the same Arlet who you used to?—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Marlena barked, grinding her teeth. “She’s still a rat, and you’re the strongest warrior our people have ever known. How am I supposed to believe she got away unscathed?” Marlena’s growing anger raised the volume of her voice every time she spoke.

Marlena’s staff started to pay closer attention, stalling their daily duties in hopes they could get a view of the argument going on between the commander and their ruler.

The gardener tending to Marlena’s impeccable lawn of weeping willows and non-indigenous plants settled in a flowerbed to perk up some black bearded iris. They looked as if they’d already been taken care of, water droplets glistening in the sunlight.

“No, Marlena, I don’t expect you to believe that. What I also don’t expect you to understand is that you sent two men into a world they’ve never been to, against a woman who’s pissed and has been traveling into said world for nearly half a century—she’s prepared and not nearly as dumb as you want her to be.”

Her fist clenched, and Bridger could feel the power bubbling between the two of them. Marlena was pushing him to break, but Bridger had been breaking for days. He didn’t need her assistance.

The returning feelings he’d drove so far down inside of himself and buried with a mound of concrete were now exposed and seeping through the cracks, and they pushed him farther away from Marlena.

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