Chapter 39

39

The smell of fresh linens, usually so prominent in Solum, no longer lingered in the air—little fires were burning everywhere, and Bridger wasn't sure they'd be able to put them all out in time. It wasn't the physical fires; it was the ones burning inside the people of Tolevarre, the torches of new rebellion camps popping up all over their realm.

It didn't matter Bridger had some of his best men and women in Solum. They would never stand a chance against a raging rebellion and the anger its people felt now that Vega wasn't with them safe and sound. They would never stand a chance against those who would rather fight to the death than continue to live the life they'd been forced into under Marlena's rule.

Bridger could see Marlena's empire cracking, splintering like ice over a body of water, but he knew that meant he would fall with it.

"Bridger." Meyer snuck up behind him, causing the commander to jump uncharacteristically.

"Gods." Bridger spun, his pulse spiking. He chuckled at himself, but Meyer's brows pinched together. Bridger waved his hand in dismissal. "Got a lot on my mind. "

Meyer sat on a freshly cut tree stump, joining Bridger in looking over their soldiers going about their day from the top of a hill. "She remembers." It wasn't a question.

Bridger gave a quick nod, his hair slicked back and out from his face. "Yes." He didn't meet Meyer's gaze, keeping his eyes out on the horizon. "She remembers."

"Who is she this time?" Meyer knew Vega in all her past lives too, knew the spirit she'd lost over time.

Bridger knew no one was listening in. He could feel they were alone. His hand went to his wrist, the new prickling sensation since Vega got her memories back hard to ignore. "She's Vega."

My Vega.

He hadn't said those words out loud yet, but it was true, whether he was ready to admit it or not. The girl inside the deteriorating body was wholly Vega. But she wouldn't be for long if Marlena continued her torture. He knew firsthand what her tactics did to a person.

Meyer sighed. "I hope you know if that's true, she's going to burn this whole fucking world down to beat her sister."

"I know" was all Bridger knew to say in response.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the horizon as the sun rolled in and out of the moving clouds. Meyer finally spoke up. "I came up here to make sure you were okay. You aren't sleeping. I hear you in the training room every night. You're killing and maiming your own soldiers, and you're avoiding everyone. Me included."

Bridger glanced over at Meyer, who stared him down, eyes wandering over his tired face.

"I'm fine," Bridger lied, finding it hard to meet the general's gaze.

"Why don't you trust me?" Meyer asked, his eyes flickering with a sadness he forced into hiding. He and Bridger had always had a different relationship, never exposing their emotions to one another because their parents taught them to always keep their underbellies covered—even from the ones they loved.

Old habits die hard .

Bridger's mouth opened and then shut as he tried to find the words. It felt like hours before he finally spoke. His posture changed, a breath releasing from deep in his lungs. "I trust you. I don't trust myself with what happens after if I admit out loud the toll these dreams are taking on me. If I tell you, I can't control what comes next, and that terrifies me." Bridger's voice was hoarse, sounding more depleted as the days passed. "And then if I admit what these dreams are doing to me, what they're making me feel… then it's real." Bridger rested his head in his hands. "I don't want it to be real because then I'll have to live with losing her a second time."

Meyer was quiet for what felt like an eternity. "You still love her." Another statement, not a question.

Bridger threw his hands up in frustration. "No." It felt more like a lie than he wanted to admit. He started to pace, his boots pressing into the firm Solum soil. He caught himself and stopped abruptly.

Pacing was a trait of Khort's that had always driven Bridger crazy.

I'm letting them back in.

"I really did want her to die, to end the torment I felt every time I looked into those fucking blue eyes. " Bridger growled the last words, a low rumble. "But I've recently started to wonder what happens if one of the bonded dies. Really dies. Do the rest go with them?" Bridger faced Meyer, his eyes staring straight through him.

"What can I do to help?"

"Nothing," Bridger answered. "I'm sure it'll be over soon." I hope.

There was nothing else to say. Bridger wasn't interested in delving deeper into a conversation he already hadn't wanted to have.

"Are you staying here for the night?" Meyer asked, standing from the stump he was still sitting on.

Bridger uncrossed his arms from his chest. "No. I think I'll head back to Aeris. I have some business there in the morning."

Meyer stood. "I'll keep an eye out here then. Would you like me to prepare a caravan for you? "

"I think I'll take a horse. I could use some fresh air." Bridger loosened his stance, forcing himself to relax and pull himself out of his head.

"I'll get a group of guards."

"No," Bridger commanded. "I'm going alone." He didn't want an entourage.

"Arlet, Khort, and the rebels are out there somewhere, looking for Vega. I am not letting you go alone. Gods knows what they would do if they caught you." Meyer was thinking smart, planning ahead like he always did.

"I can handle a shifter and his misfits." Bridger's tone shifted slightly. "I'll be traveling alone. Please get a horse ready."

Meyer nodded, taking his order. He began to pad away on heavy feet but stopped suddenly to turn and make eye contact with Bridger. "Don't do anything stupid."

Bridger didn't reply until he was out of earshot. "I make no promises."