CHAPTER 35: REPLIES AND REPLAYS
Turning to stand, the dark twin faced her sister, whose stone eyes were opened wide against the new pitch of their tune.
Sitting up with a start, Bridget’s head met another in a hard, resounding crack. Pain shot out from the point of contact, webbing across her forehead in sharp, fiery strands that knotted around a pulsing epicenter.
“Ow,” someone whimpered, “my nose.”
Reaching up a hand to rub at the growing lump near her temple, Briddy blearily peered around. She felt as though her body was moving through water, slow to respond to her thoughts and all wobbly at the edges.
“Sorr-” She cut herself off halfway through, peering at the intruder. “Gemma?”
Perched at the end of her bed, primly dressed in a tan blouse and dark brown skirt with golden petticoats was her fluffy-haired classmate. Cradling her nose, the girl glared tear-filled brown eyes at her from behind a hand.
“You hit me.” She said dourly.
Briddy scoffed, the sound coming out somewhere between a cough and a quack. “I sat up, you mean.” She began to say something else, but the words faltered in her throat as she looked over at Gemma.
“What…were you doing over my bed?” She asked instead. The unmistakable sound of a door opening to her right sent her head snapping around, and Bridget took in unfamiliar green fabric walls, an overabundance of greenery, and a notable lack of the usual dormitory mess before her heart started racing. Something was broiling underneath the surface of her confusion, roaring to be let out, but right now she was just trying to figure out what was going on.
“And where are we?” Briddy added, trying to ignore the fact that Gemma was watching her owlishly from behind her cradled nose. When the girl didn’t respond, Bridget pulled her legs up to her chest, raising her eyebrows. “Gemma?”
The girl looked away, kicking her feet for a moment. “Everyone was really worried.” She said carefully, in a way that raised small hairs along the back of Bridget’s neck.
“Who’s everyone?” Briddy replied, “And where are we?”
Gemma looked over at her out of the side of her eye. “Don’t you remember them carrying you up? This is the medical wing.”
“Remember?” The word trailed away as Bridget looked inwards, and the roiling mass breached the surface. Rushing over her like she had been struck by floodwaters were memories of Adelaide, of little Nolan pulling her body away before an enormous corpse crushed it, of a limp, bracer-clad arm falling over a blood-soaked stretcher that two grim-faced scouts were carrying away…
“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
Someone was shouting in the background, and Briddy could vaguely hear Gemma’s mewling replies, but for some reason, her chest was so busy fighting to get the smallest of breaths that she didn’t care. She just wanted them to go away, for it to be quiet, for everything to just…stop.
“That’s quite enough from you, girls.” A voice cut through the din.
Originating from the opposite end of the room, a slow clack, clack, clack got closer. Bridget didn’t look up to greet its owner, trying to breathe through the wave of sickness that was threatening to empty her guts all over the medical wing bed. Was aiming for Gemma a bad idea?
She shook the thought from her head, trying to clear the deluge of memories replaying over and over as she looked up in time to see Instructor Cardenas coming to a halt before Gail and Gemma. Her classmate’s tan blouse was currently bundled up under Gail’s fist, a glass of water precariously tipped over her head.
“You want to repeat that?” Gail growled.
“Instructor!” Gemma whined.
Cardenas reached them, leaning heavily on the oaken staff as she took a final, limping step before coming to a stop. “This is a place of healing, not a brawl hall. Take whatever…” She gestured vaguely with her rod between the girls, “this is, and go somewhere else.”
Despite her limping entrance, Cardenas’ diminutive form still managed to seem threatening enough that the pair shrank somewhat, and Gail lowered the cup from over Gemma’s head. Turning on Briddy, their Botanica teacher swept in, adjusting her deep green shawl before she began poking and prodding at her patient’s vital points.
“Do you know what day it is?” She inquired gruffly, pawing at Bridget’s wrist.
Glancing over at her peers, who were still out of uniform, Briddy hazarded a guess. “Still the Guildhunt, I think?” The sound of her voice startled her, wavering and dry as the desert outside.
“Mmm.” Cardenas pursed her lips, peering into her eyes as she lifted Briddy’s eyelids one after the other. “Confusion is common after a panic attack like yours, especially one resulting in a loss of consciousness.”
Briddy blinked several times, taking all of her Instructor’s words in. Panic. Loss. Consciousness. She was still trying to process them when Gemma said:
“So she really did pass out then? It wasn’t just a fit?”
Looking up at her in disbelief, Bridget reconsidered her earlier dismissal of the puking idea.
Then she looked over at Cardenas, who was pinching the bridge of her nose, and let out a long sigh. “The water, if you please.” The instructor murmured, holding out a hand to the side.
A splash answered her, and then a loud scream, like someone had been stabbed.
“What is wrong with you?!” Gemma shrieked, dripping wet.
“What’s wrong with me?” Gail barked. “Is your brain rotten?”
“I was trying to be a good friend!”
“Find me a friend who goes to a bedside and accuses their friend of faking it.” Gail spat. “Next time it won’t be water.”
During this, Cardenas calmly rose from the bed, picked up her staff, and hobbled over to the two of them.
“I was-” Gemma began, only to have her protestation cut off with a swift bonk to her head. “Ow!”
“I don’t care what-” Gail got one of her own. “Hey!”
“But-”
Bonk. Cardenas may have had a limp, but she was still in her prime.
“I’m not the one-”
Bonk.
And once they quieted down, watching their Instructor with matching glowers, an extra bonk bonk on each head for good measure.
“Out,” Instructor Cardenas gestured with the butt of the staff towards the door. “she doesn’t need your caterwauling while she’s dealing with this.”
Defeated, the pair began to head for the door, shooting each other dirty looks, and in Gail’s case, looking back in concern. Bridget met her eyes, wishing for the rock of her friend’s strength to cling to amidst the storm that brewed within her.
“Can’t Gail stay-” She began, only to have Cardenas whirl around, threatening her with the staff too.
“I’m not above reprimanding patients.”
Bridget shut her mouth.
Satisfied, Instructor Cardenas made her way back over, rummaging around under her shawl as she limped. She withdrew a flask full of pale milky-blue liquid, coming to a stop as she held it up to the light. With a frown, the teacher gave the contents a few circular spins, and the pearlescent mixture began to softly glow like the moon behind clouds on a summer night.
Briddy’s eyes darted between her teacher and the potion she held, then to the door before falling back to her blankets.
“What is it?” Cardenas placed the flask on the small wooden cabinet that flanked her bed. “You’ve got the face, the same one your brother got when he was all…” She gestured vaguely about Bridget’s area with an open hand. “So, out with it, girl.”
Licking dry lips, Bridget tried to find the strength to push forward words to a question. Asking it, spitting the words into being, was almost as frightful a concept as receiving an answer. She swallowed, glancing up at her teacher. Nothing was more terrifying than the unknown.
“My sister-” The words died, her throat closing as she tried to get them out, and she desperately looked up at Cardenas, praying that it was enough.
Instructor Cardenas’ eyes softened, looking her over for a long minute as though taking in every detail for some unknown reason. When she finally responded, it was after a long exhale.
“We haven’t heard.” Her teacher said, not unkindly.
Bridget swallowed again, her mouth like sandpaper. “Oh.” She managed, wrapping her arms around her knees and tugging them close against her chest.
“Drink this.” Cardenas tapped the flask she had set down with a fingernail. “It’ll help you sleep; rest is the best medicine I can give you right now.”
Lifting a face that was beginning to leak tears, Bridget looked over at the bedside cabinet and shook her head. “No, I need to be awake.” She choked out, pushing back the covers. “I need to go back to my dorm and check my letters in case there’s news and I-”
The butt of the staff jutted in front of her, preventing her from rising.
“Look, kid. I get it. But not tonight.” Cardenas reached her rod out, pushing Bridget back into the bed. “If there’s any news, the school will get it faster than you will.”
Clutching at the wood, Bridget looked her in the eyes. “You’ll tell me, right?” She whispered.
Pursing her lips, Cardenas stood up straight. “Drink the potion, Vasily. We’ll reassess in the morning.”
Hobbling to one of the nearby plants, her teacher began fussing over its drooped leaves, keeping a weather eye on Bridget as she tenderly lifted them. Briddy watched her back for a moment, dully wondering how Cardenas of all people got put in charge of treating students when she clearly cared more for vegetation, and then picked up the small round flask.
Giving its milky contents a swirl, her lip curled. Nothing about this looked safe for consumption, and if Asher had been the one handing it to her, she would have chucked it out the window with surety. Glancing over at Cardenas, who was pouring a suspiciously similar potion into the plant’s roots, albeit one of a slightly darker shade, Bridget wondered if the window wasn’t such a bad idea.
She didn’t get past turning her head toward the window before a guttural “Vasily” drawn out warning came from behind her, so Briddy popped the cork and took a sniff instead.
There wasn’t much that hit her nose off the first pass, except the sensation one gets when entering fog on a cold morning, or the spray of a fountain in the fall air. A second detected the faintest hint of something floral, but the scent wasn’t strong enough to identify. Bridget was going to take a third when Cardenas snapped: “Sculptor’s sake girl, it’s not poison. Drink it and be done. Those who hesitate are lost.”
Briddy looked away. She knew it wasn’t poison, that wasn’t the real issue. She didn’t want to sleep. Everything was spiraling outside of her hands, and if she went to sleep, then she was giving up fighting for it…wasn’t she?
“You know, there’s a particular species of cane stalk that can be used as an inflexible feeding tube…” Instructor Cardenas loudly muttered to herself.
Grimacing, Bridget took a deep breath and gulped the contents of the flask.
Going down, it was like drinking mist, spilling and tumbling throughout her in cold clouds. It tasted like absolutely nothing though, which was what Bridget felt as she sank onto her side, warm sleep ebbing in to take her.
The last thought that ran through her mind was that she hadn’t had anyone in her life quite like Gail or her friends before, and there was something wonderful and utterly terrifying about that at the same time.
Waking up seemed like it was mere moments later, with Cardenas raking her through another terse examination before releasing her to return to the dorms.
“Go to class today, or don’t. It’s up to you.” She said, shutting the medical wing door in Bridget’s face.
Similarly, the Instructor had earlier shaken her head when Briddy tried to ask about her family, so on the quiet, lonely trek back to the dorms that morning, she asked the only other being who might know.
Vex? Part of her hesitated to call out to the relic after how it had sounded yesterday, but her choices were slim.
Bridget. She was shocked by how normal the reply was.
Vex. You were so…
Depleted. Your father required much.
Coming to a stop before the steps of Honor House, Bridget fought to find the right words.
Kerr. His wounds, I mean. She exhaled, sharply. Is he-
He fell.
I’m aware. Does he live?
There was an excruciatingly long pause, leaving Bridget to run her hands through tangled hair and softly bash her head against the doorframe. Vex, I swear to the Sculptor-
It is beyond my knowing. The only touch I feel is yours.
Briddy shoved her way into the mostly empty common area, placing her hands on a paper-littered tabletop for support. Would you be able to tell if he was? Her heart whispered.
“Morning, Bridget!” The slam of a door behind her nearly sent the table flying, and she whirled around to find their houseminder adjusting his collar.
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Taking one look at her face, the older student’s eyes widened, his cheery demeanor inverting to pity’s creases within a second. “Oh, right.” His voice was suddenly softer. “How is your sis- I mean your family?”
Seeing the immediate change in his treatment of her sent a wave of revulsion rolling through Bridget. It was like having a wet blanket of someone else’s feelings suddenly cast on top of her, with the expectation that she would wrap herself in its soggy embrace and play along. She didn’t know him, and he barely knew her name, so why did he even care?
Forcing the roiling mass of spiky, unknown fear deep within her, Bridget lifted her chin. In the very back of her mind, she could almost hear her mother’s voice chiming in: “This isn’t about you. Dry your tears and stand up straight, or you’ll spend the rest of your life on your knees.”
“They’re hanging in there.” She lied, watching the false balm of her words immediately relax the boy’s face. “Thank you for asking.”
Briddy turned to go, hands shaking, and made it halfway to the door to her sleeping area before he called after her: “Hey, are you ok too? I heard you were in the medical wing for something. Someone said it was about you being over dramatic or something but, they don’t keep you for that stuff, do they?”
Closing her eyes, Bridget took in a deep breath before she turned around, letting her nostrils flare wide. She would’ve been willing to put good coin on the culprits behind that one, but right now she just didn’t have the energy to care.
“I’m fine.” She said, forcing another smile. “I had a health complication near the end of the hunt rally which has already been addressed. Anyone with questions can ask Cardenas.”
The houseminder gave her a thumbs up before running upstairs, quickly followed by the sound of thumping on doors. Entering her dorm, Bridget encountered similar treatment to earlier, with the eyes of her housemates swiveling towards her like the hungry mouths of baby BoneEagles. Brushing away their murmured platitudes and simpered questions with a quick nod of acknowledgment, Briddy barely made it to her bed and snapped the curtains shut around her before she began trembling like a leaf caught up in her father’s maelstrom.
She sat in the dark, mind empty and reeling as she rocked back and forth, waiting for the sounds of her classmates leaving for breakfast. Once she was sure she was alone, Bridget exited her bed, taking a long look at the empty Keepedish on her nightstand. The ball roiled within her while she changed clothes and grabbed her Shroud from where she had left it in her chest what seemed like a lifetime ago. After ducking into the white and green uniform and snagging her borrowed bag, she grabbed her silver clip, wistfully running her thumb over the delicate metal strands of the feather’s tuft.
Nolan…she saw him in a little ball, barely missed by a gigantic foot.
Staggering into the wall, Bridget caught herself just before the door to the Common area. Nausea ripped through her stomach in waves of heat and pain, shaking her core and sapping the strength she had to stand. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, catching on her elbow as the weight dragged her to her knees. Leaning forward, Briddy placed her forehead against the wood of the door. Even if she had been there, could she have done anything, as she was? She didn’t have Adelaide’s might or Nolan’s magic, she could knit wounds together with mediocre success, and with what had happened at the rally, in front of everyone…
Maybe her parents were right. She wasn’t right for this life.
Or maybe, Vex whispered. It’s easier to hide behind that than face what it is that you fear, Bridget.
Briddy closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in and out.
…you’re not going to tell me what that is, are you Vex. It wasn’t a question.
It is a sign of growth to know yourself.
She could swear the damn thing sounded smug.
Swallowing her frustration, and whatever else was lurking down there, Bridget shook her head. She pushed herself back up, wiped the tears that at some point had rebelled their way out of her eyes, and shoved the clip into her hair before exiting into the Common area. Briddy had been expecting it to be empty, furniture devoid of occupants and observers, but she instead found her friends waiting, lounged across various chairs, or in Asher’s case, perched atop a table.
The looks on their faces nearly undid her at once.
It was somewhere between relief and concern, a cross between caution and comfort at the sight of her, as though she were explosives rigged to set off at any moment but they wanted to give her one last hug before she went.
It was torture, so instead of looking at them, Bridget busied herself with trying to find something inside her bag. She had thought herself capable of facing the world again if she shoved the roiling ball inside of her away for later, but they were so much worse than the houseminder or her dormmates.
They cared.
When Gail’s husky voice finally broke the silence with: “Hey, trouble.” Bridget’s knees nearly buckled, the ball racing to the surface as she was overwhelmed with the urge to break into a million pieces.
What she did instead was yank herself back together, lashing the chaos deep within her as she reminded it: “This isn’t about you.”
Looking up, she gave a small smile. “Hey.” She managed.
It was irritating how quickly Asher seemed to zero in on her face, his blue eyes searching hers thoroughly. “We came to see you before class.” He said slowly. “But I see you’re already ready.” During the final part of the statement, he looked over at Tuck, whose concern read more clearly.
“You know, you don’t have to do this yet.” The tall boy said, rubbing the back of his neck. “With what happened yesterday-”
“Cardenas cleared me.” Bridget said mildly, shrugging in a ‘what-can-you-do’ kind of way. She took a few steps towards the door, eager to be free of their concern, when Gail stepped into her path.
Herding Briddy to the side with a firm arm, she gave her a once-over.
Internally, Bridget braced herself for a scolding and squirmed at the thought.
“You sure you’re ready?” Gail’s eyes flicked up.
Caught off guard, it took Briddy a moment to regain her composure. She forced a quick smile. “I’m fine.”
Her friend’s face was dead neutral, a dried riverbed devoid of reaction as she looked her over in silence for an uncomfortable time before nodding, and then moving out of the way.
“Gail-” Tuck in an exasperated tone.
Bridget started walking, securing her bag strap on her shoulder.
“She can make her own decisions,” Gail said from behind her, “and she’s decided she’s fine.”
Bridget shot her a look, and her friend raised a dark eyebrow as if inviting her to challenge the statement.
Sighing, Briddy turned back around and tucked an unruly lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m going to class,” she muttered, trudging out of Loyalty House.
Whatever solace she was hoping to find within academia was only gleaned in brief snippets, because Bridget was haunted by the Hunt wherever she went in the school. From the moment she set foot in the dunes of Weapon Proficiency, the buzz of excited retellings wafted at her like a stinking perfume.
“-those flaming needles man! Roddy’s-” Argus babbled on to a couple of tired greencoats.
“-out of nowhere, what was the anchor he used?” Someone else murmured.
“-think he’ll let us recreate that move Kerr and Adelaide pulled off today?” Niles was trying to get Kurtis to crouch down so he could spring off his back.
Gail groaned at the sight of them, steering Briddy away with Asher and Tuck shadowing close behind.
Their small group began doing their warmups, stretching, and providing a small buffer between the rest of the class and Bridget. Even with the wall of warmth that they provided, she could still see the searching eyes that many cast her way, though Warrin’s crinkled at the corners when they met hers. The one time Briddy hazarded a glance toward Niles’ cluster of the sand arena and was rewarded with the usual cold stares of Gemma and Kurtis. Her cellmate, however, was intensely focused on someone else, his brow slammed deep over the lenses of his spectacles as he frowned in the direction of his cousin. Bridget decided she would leave whatever that was for another time.
To say it was a relief when Instructor Cassia showed up, nursing a flask and barking at them to start their laps, was largely an understatement.
The rumbling whispers followed Briddy into Common Scenarios where her little cluster of friends was forced to separate and Lady Carmine pulled up a recreation of the hunt for them to study the tactics used.
Pausing right before she started the Scrying image, the ruby-haired teacher turned toward her class. “Ah, if anyone would want to leave for this due to…personal reasons, you will still receive credit for today’s class.”
She paused, expectantly, eyes sweeping across the classroom and landing on Bridget far too many times.
Briddy bristled. There was that wet blanket again. “I don’t think anyone needs to leave, my lady,” she said after several minutes, hating the horrible calm in her voice. “After all, we’ve all seen it before, right?”
Lady Carmine blinked a few times. “Yes, well…” She turned back to the projection and began its playback.
Bridget barely remembered the lesson, the page staying blank in front of her as she numbly watched the feed of the Mountaincore shaking her father. Lady Carmine did her best to skip parts that weren’t necessary, but Briddy’s mind supplied them in perfect detail all the same. It felt like everything went dull at the edges, even the ball of straining turmoil deep inside her.
When everyone else stood to stand, so did she, automatically putting away her things with a smooth mask of neutrality. The chaos could remain there, raw and writhing, but if she put enough layers on, no one would tell.
Asher caught up with her right as Gail said goodbye for her next class, and Bridget began to wonder if they had all worked out a schedule so she wouldn’t be alone.
“Hey.” He gave her a crooked grin, walking beside her. “You holding up?”
Briddy nodded. “I’m fine,” she said, echoing the same response she had chirped anyone who had asked so far.
“Ahhh.” He turned around so he was walking backward, facing her with his hands behind his head. “I’ve been there, you know.”
Something about the way his voice changed, the usual playful lilt giving to a slightly deeper timber raised her guard. “Not sure what you mean,” she said lightly, beginning the climb up the Insular Tower’s circular staircase.
Asher followed suit, continuing to do so backward. “I’ve been ‘fine’,” he said, eyes lazily sliding down to lock onto hers. “Ah.” He raised a hand against her next protest. “Not judging Briddy. I’m just letting you know, it’s only going to work for so long. Sooner or later-”
“Stop.” Her voice broke for the first time that day, shaking. “Just…stop.”
In just a few minutes, he had nearly ripped up the bonds that she had spent the entire day tying into place, and everything threatened to rip free, just because he felt the need to pontificate. Why was he always trying to dig into the cracks he found in her?
Coming to a halt, Asher nodded. “Alright.” He said, and then stepped in and wrapped his arms around her.
Bridget stiffened, unsure of what he was doing at first. It took her a moment to realize that he wasn’t trying to restrain, but to comfort, and she accepted the embrace. He was so warm, and there was something so comforting about being held that Bridget hadn’t in an extremely long time.
Idiot…she wanted to be irritated at him for making her feel this weak, but just for a moment, she relaxed instead. He smelled faintly of wood smoke and citrus, with an astringent undertone she never got the chance to place because a long, loud whistle cut through the air. It continued as it got closer, and Warrin edged around to their side, waggling his eyebrows meaningfully.
Asher dropped his arms, picking up his bag from where he had put it on the steps, and then playfully shoved his friend into the wall.
“Stuff it.” He grinned, “Or I’ll get Gail to force-feed you more breakfast rolls.”
“Joke’s on you mate, I’m into that.” Warrin grinned.
Bridget hoped the warmth in her face wasn’t glowing too brightly as she continued her climb, but Warrin wasn’t done needling.
“Don’t I get a hug too, Briddy?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Do you deserve a hug?”
An odd look flashed across his handsome face, and his mouth twisted wryly like a rag being wrung. “I suppose not,” Warrin said, and then hopped ahead of them up the steps.
Bridget looked over at Asher, who shook his head and followed.
After what was a mostly hunt-free class, she caught up to the pair again, standing with a small crowd all clustered together. Getting closer, she heard a roar, and stopped dead in her tracks, looking around as her heartbeat flew. No one else seemed to have heard it. Was there a Mountaincore here?
“You don’t have to act so alarmed, Bridget.” Niles’ voice reaching her ear was like someone pouring water directly into her boots, and Briddy could feel her toes curl in displeasure. “It’s just a replay.”
The lancer was holding court in the middle of the cluster, holding his grape-sized orb that was currently flashing a replay of her sister’s head hitting a stump.
“In fact, I’m sure we’d all love to hear about how your family is doing,” Niles continued, with a knowing glance toward Gemma, who stood next to him. “We’re all very worried.”
“Worried enough you’re watching that for what, the fourth time today?” Bridget flicked her eyes at the scrying feed. “I see.”
“Do you? From what I hear you haven’t seen anything from them lately.”
Asher ducked out of the crowd, grabbing Briddy’s arm.
“Lunchtime,” he said cheerily, trying to pull her out of the heated contest of staring she was now in with Niles.
She didn’t budge, a small part of her quietly begging the lancer to just give her a reason to snap.
You’re being baited like a beast, Bridget. Do not act like one.
“Come on, Briddy.” Tuck’s big hand took her other arm, firmly turning her away.
“That’s what I thought,” Niles said, smug.
Bridget nearly yanked her shoulder out of its socket trying to turn back around, but her friends roughly marched her away between them, Warrin keeping up a steady stream of chatter.
She spent the rest of her day in silence, barely speaking unless she was spoken to and pushing through each class with the hopes that when she returned to her room, an envelope would be waiting for her in the Keepedish’s spindly arms. Throwing open the door after Library Study, she was greeted by a dorm full of searching eyes and hissing whispers, and an empty letter bowl.
The next day, Bridget broke down and sent a letter to her mother, begging for news. When three days had passed, she went to the Guidance office and asked about a Shivercord call.
“You can sign here, and then the cost is due in full at the time of the connection,” the bony secretary told her, shoving a form across the desk. Bridget’s jaw nearly hit the wood when she read the amount, far beyond any meager savings she had brought with her. Blinking back bitter tears of disappointment, she pushed the form back to the secretary and thanked him for his time before leaving.
When a week had gone by, and Briddy was sick from lack of sleep, sympathy, and signs from her family, she began sending letters to her little brother, and Carolli, to anyone in the house that she could think of that could send her a response. Yet each morning when she tore herself out of whatever thin cobwebs of sleep managed to cling to her in the night, her dish remained empty, and the turmoil within her grew. Why the silence? What was going on at home? Not knowing was misery, to her.
She was ensconced in the confines of her bed, skipping yet another lunch to look through books on rare and possibly mythical monstrosities when someone interrupted with a knock on the post.
“Can I come in?” a muffled voice asked.
“No,” Bridget said.
The fabric of her curtains parted a little, and Warrin’s head popped in.
“Can you come with me?” he asked, glancing over her study materials.
She squinted at him. “Eh?”
“With me,” he said, slowly, sticking an arm through to point at his face before turning it around. “You.”
“I caught that. Why?”
“You’ll see.” The boy gave her a tight smile before his head disappeared. Grumbling, Bridget abandoned her study, ignoring the painful twist of her empty stomach as she followed Warrin’s tightly coiled curls out of Loyalty House and up the white stone path.
“Where are you going?” she called after him, pulling her hair up off her neck against the midday heat.
He didn’t answer, forging forward past students in different colors of Shrouds, giving Briddy a mix of reactions as she passed. The stories about her family and fainting were still well and alive amongst her peers, with different versions circulating depending on who was doing the telling. Warrin came to a stop before the Administration building, turning on his heels to face her as she caught up.
“Why-?”
He entered backward as she came to a stop, swinging open the tall doors with a flourish.
“You’ve an appointment.” Warrin waved at the desk and then took an immediate right. “Or rather, I have for you, but it’s all the same really.”
“Warrin?”
He stopped at one of the doors and opened it, revealing a furnished room with an enormous cord strung from floor to ceiling.
Briddy looked between him and the open door, and then quickly walked forward, a thousand questions springing to mind. Stopping before she entered, she looked him in the eyes.
“Thank you,” she said, “You didn’t have to.”
Warrin shrugged, and nodded, eyes downcast.
Bridget watched him, wanting desperately to rush in and start the call, but needing to know one more thing.
“Warrin, how did you afford-?”
He grimaced at the ground for a long moment before responding. “Betting on your dad.”
Their eyes met, and she saw guilt weighing deep in the brown depths of his before he looked away and cleared his throat, gesturing toward the room.
Briddy placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered again, and then stepped into the room, ready to hear one more replay.