Warrior Queen - Karpov Kinrade Page 0,49

woods.

“Why do I feel like I should be running?” I murmur.

Mirk lifts a brow but remains silent.

“The Bridge of Oblivion,” Catalina announces, throwing her arms wide open.

The air before me shimmers like a force field, causing a humming tension to fill me, and then a bridge appears. It’s tall, made of white stones, but many are missing and the turbulent waters beneath pummel the pillars, sending sprays of water up through the gaps like miniature geysers. The far side of the bridge is shrouded in fog, just like the opposite riverbank. It’s a matter of trust that something is actually there at all.

“Even one drop is enough to erase a memory,” Catalina warns.

“It’s impossible to not get wet,” I say.

“We’ll have to time it,” Mirk says.

“Mirk,” Catalina says. “You do not have to leave. Stay.”

I hold my breath as he turns to his mother, slowly. “I will return,” is all he says.

She nods, once, and turns to Alfio. “I thought to deliver justice to you by my own hand, but crossing this bridge will be justice enough. The chances you will succeed are small.”

“I will see my lady to the other side, Lady Catalina,” he says, trundling forward.

Catalina says nothing, but her shrewd eyes narrow as he shuffles past her, and I’m reminded of a cobra, watching its prey.

Someday, when everything settles, I’ll ask Alfio to tell me the tale. Why he would steal her child? I mean, who does those kinds of quests? It reminds me of the Twelve Labors of Hercules or Jason’s legendary quest for the Golden Fleece. So I guess in the Greek mythology world, Alfio’s Quest for the Dreaded Fae Queen’s Child of Hades kind of matches.

“Thank you for your help, Lady Catalina,” I say, bowing in respect.

“I wish you well, Queen Lily, Prometheus,” she replies and bows in return.

The others exchange their farewells leaving Mirk for last. We all move away to allow them a bit of privacy, and I walk to the edge of the bridge to join Alfio.

“Be careful,” I tell him. I look at the stones and frown. How will we ever get him safely across?

“Remember, do not touch the water,” Catalina calls after me as I take the lead and stop onto the bridge.

The structure seems sturdy enough, but the missing gaps ahead concern me. What is it with the lack of bridge repair in the Greek afterlife? First, the shitty bridge in my queendom, and now this one. No wonder Ladron, Torak, and Mirk wanted to replace the gods in charge. They let their infrastructure crumble.

I’m approaching the first gap, trying to establish the rhythm of the water, when Ladron suddenly shouts, “Duck!”

As everyone crouches, he pulls me back sharply against his rock-hard chest just as a plume of water arcs over the side of the bridge in a particularly nasty eruption of spray. I stare, astonished, as through the gap I see a half-submerged tree collide against the pillar below.

The bridge shakes.

No one moves.

Then, the tree breaks free and sails down the river unhindered.

“Thanks.” I swallow, but as I look down at Ladron’s hands clamped around my waist, I see a drop of water on his skin.

I look up at him, alarmed.

Ladron follows my gaze and flicks the water off. “Whatever memory it took, I’m sure it was a bad one,” he says lightly.

I thin my lips into a grim line as we set off again, quickly skirting the hole. Ladron follows as Artemis and Mirk bring up the rear, carrying Alfio across.

I glance back to see Catalina, still standing there, watching. The sad expression on her face makes my heart tug a little. To have found Mirk only to lose him again, so soon. I’ll see he comes back from Earth. We’ll find Clay, stop him, and use the Portal Stone to bring him back to face justice.

There’s another thud and the stones beneath my feet rumble.

“Shit,” I gasp.

“Quickly.” Artemis claps her hands. “The bridge is weakening.”

I quicken my pace, but when I hear a splash behind me, I whirl.

“It’s the bridge,” Ladron says grimly. “That tree seems to have loosened more stones.”

As he tells me, I see a crack form on the section of bridge we’d just crossed. Moments later, a huge chunk simply vanishes, dropping into the raging river below.

The bridge begins to wobble.

“This thing is coming down,” I say. “Run.”

I wheel around and run, shocked to find myself repeating history, running across a bridge as the stones crumble, but this one is more dangerous