Relic Heirs: Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter 38: Best in Broken Glass

Much was lost in the time of what came to be called the Sister's struggle; histories, art, entire civilizations were ground to dust under gargantuan heels. 

Before Bridget opened her eyes, warmth greeted her waking. Her lids felt crusted and heavy, hot from a night of spending tears; her throat tingled with the slow burn of words that had filled her simultaneously with relief and regret to speak aloud. Washing over all of it was a steady, gentle heat, radiating from a spot in her forehead where it made contact with another. 

When she had stopped speaking the evening before, Gail had been so quiet she had thought her friend hadn’t been able to hear the horrible, low tone Bridget had spent the last however many hours whispering in. She hadn’t dared to speak louder, though, and she couldn’t bring herself to break the silence now. Gail sat straight up and turned to look at her, eyes bright. 

“He’s a piece of shit.” She whispered. “They both are.” 

Bridget shook her head, swiping at her face. Her heart hurt, and more than anything she felt exhaustion weighing her down. Picking which pieces of broken glass to show Gail from the shattered stained glass window in the cathedral of the Vasily family legacy was somehow a more tiring task than facing Niles. “I can’t change that, though.” She said. 

“And that makes it alright? I’m trying to reconcile this with my dads, and they would never treat me like that, let alone try to kill me–” Gail cut herself off with an exasperated scoff,  flopping back down on the bed and running a hand through the half of her hair that wasn’t braided back. “Parents don’t act that way.” 

Bridget said nothing, watching her. She could see the girl’s face flashing through emotions, her brow creasing, mouth twisting down, eyes darting over to glance at Bridget as she tried to reconcile what she had learned with the person that she knew. Briddy wished she knew some spell that could tell her the right words to say right now to make sure that the end result was still someone her friend could respect. She feared her judgment; stayed on edge like prey awaiting a lazy predator’s decision on whether or not it was to become lunch. 

You have nothing of which to be ashamed. Vex assured her. 

Gail turned over onto her side, searching Bridget’s face. “How do you live?” She asked abruptly, brow creased.“I…I’ll be honest Bridget, I’m shutting down just thinking about it.” 

Bridget paused, wetting lips which had gone dry. It took her a moment to find the words, to explain the answer to a question she had asked herself plenty of times. Once she had pinned them down, they spouted out before she could stop them. 

“I don’t how, exactly. I suppose, after enough bad things happen, you get used to life upending the shelves and knocking everything you know apart. When that inevitably happens, and you’re left yet again at the bottom of life’s storeroom, surrounded by the bits of broken things that most others have whole, you can choose; either sit there and get lost in the shards, which cut deep as glass and tear you apart while you spend time looking closer, or sweep them up, shove them in a box, and put the broom somewhere within arm’s reach.” She took a deep breath after she finished. 

Gail’s voice was soft. “That doesn’t mean they hurt any less, shoved in the box.” 

Briddy met her eyes, something deep within her chest striking dull and lifeless at the words. “It means you get to live.” 

“Is that what your parents told you to aspire to in life?” 

“It’s what I’ve clawed out for myself.” Bridget lifted her chin, a look that appeared defiant but she secretly hoped would keep the tears from spilling once more. “What they wanted was secondary to survival. You know, it’s how I’m used to living, now. Every day is just boxes that you try to avoid rattling or peeking into. Boxes that should be singular. Boxes that shouldn’t exist because the things inside were meant to be whole and beautiful. Like…” She stopped herself, realizing she had been looking at Gail as she spoke. 

Gail suddenly lurched forward, clutching her close. Their bodies crushed together in a smush of hair, tears, and sticky skin, and yet somehow Bridget still felt at home. Almost immediately, that feeling made her tears overflow, but she managed to keep the sobs from betraying her shoulders. 

“I’ll fight your dad,” Gail muttered into her hair, eliciting a watery chuckle from Bridget. 

“It doesn’t work that way, Gail,” Briddy muttered into her collarbone, where her head had come to rest. They were quiet for a moment, and then Gail drew away, holding her at arm’s length. 

“I don’t care! It should!” Her hazel eyes were bright with anger once again. “Why do things work the way that they do now, that this is allowed, and he's held so high up over all our heads like the heroic standard of a hunter?!” 

Bridget exhaled. “I’ve been asking myself the same question since I understood how to think.” She said. 

“And?!” Gail slowly flapped her hand in a vertical circle. 

“What do you mean ‘and’? I couldn’t come up with the solution to a socio-philosophical problem at age four.”

Puffing her cheeks out in frustration, Gail released her. “Then we make our own way.” She said with finality. “In the Pits, we call it ‘cutting muck’. If life throws too much offal in your path, you cut your own.” Her lips twisted. “No need to keep wading through the same old shit.” 

Bridget watched her quietly. She wished she had the same confidence and could capture a spark of the light that fueled Gail’s eyes inside a lantern for when the nights got too dark. Instead, she settled for being close and nodding along while she vented. After long, the two fell silent, looking in turn at their surroundings or each other, churning through the thick trials of a situation where one feels powerless. 

“I’m scared,” Bridget whispered, the words fleeing her lips like a bubble of air, rising through her throat and squeaking past her teeth. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.” A part of her feared sleep and was trying to ignore the way her lids were getting heavy. No teachers had burst into her dormitory yet, but punishment seemed inevitable, and even as she began to fall asleep, Bridget could feel herself tensing for the strike. 

Gail sighed. “Don’t know.” She glanced to the side, and cocked her head slightly, before dipping it in a swift nod. “But whatever you need, Briddy, I’m with you. Tomorrow, or further. Just say the word. Come stay with us over the summer’s break, or I’ll go with to yours.” 

“My dad doesn’t like guests.” Bridget mumbled sleepily. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll show up and camp outside.” 

  Bridget inhaled sharply as Gail leaned forward, eyes closing as their foreheads touched together. “You’re not alone anymore.” She said, voice quiet, but spoken with deep intent. 

Bridget looked at her. It felt like those words were right, like they were everything she needed to hear right now, and yet a core, cold part of her refuted their warmth. But what could she say? When she wanted, desired for them to be the truth, for the might for friendship to be enough to shatter the shackles of her trauma. 

Why can't it? Vex asked 

Because reality doesn't work that way. Bridget reminded them both, forcing a watery smile as she closed her eyes, leaned into the warm patch of skin pressed against her head, and let herself drift away. 

But Legend does… 

Simmering in the warmth of the next morning, Bridget wondered if she had dreamt those words, or if Vex had whispered them to her right before she slept, as some sort of cryptic lullaby to soothe the nightmare that pricked her slumber. Forcing her swollen eyes open, Briddy miserably blinked the sleep away, and immediately took in the still-sleeping form of her friend. 

A window of yellow sunlight sliced through an opening in her canopy with buttery fingers, illuminating the two girls. Their bodies were curved opposite each other, two mirrored crescents of the same moon, touching at the peak where their heads met. The symmetry was ruined by the fact that Bridget had brought her knees up into more of a short, fat crescent in the night, where Gail’s long limbs curved down and around to claim the space she had vacated. A soft, rumbling snore occasionally escaped the girl’s mouth in fitful snarls, as though each noise were a convict finally finding freedom from prison. 

One of these noises brought Bridget’s attention back to Gail’s face, and the fact that it was quite close to hers, and she slowly, yet not without regret, drew her head back. The moment from last night was gone, and now, waking up and being so close… well it sent a whirl of feelings through an already shaken foundation, and Bridget didn’t know how to handle it. 

Her eyes fluttered over Gail’s face, the long lashes that framed those harsh eyes, the high arch of her cheekbones that curved like high buttresses into a jaw that held a full, fierce mouth. Her friend had a beauty completely unlike her mother’s classic, doll-like perfection; something wilder that caught you up in it the longer you looked at her. 

“Hey, trouble.” Gail’s eyes opened, her lips turning upwards at the corners as she blearily blinked. 

Bridget briefly wondered what it would be like to get up to trouble with those lips. 

Then she realized what she had thought, and the situation she had found herself in. A burning pulse full of buzzing of embarrassment roared across her body, enveloping her in a tidal wave of licking flames. 

Stammering through a greeting, Bridget sat straight as a board and began searching for her bag. She wasn’t even sure what she needed out of it, but anything was better than facing the amused expression that Gail was giving her right now. 

Their predicament was settled for them by the arrival of a knock on the dormitory door, and the rising chorus of sleepy answers that rose to greet it. 

“Up and at ‘em, greencoats!” Their houseminder called, slapping the door again. “Bridget, a word before you leave, if you would?” 

Sitting up, Bridget looked back over her shoulder at Gail, who shared her expression of foreboding. She quickly pulled her hair up, tied it back, and jammed her silver feather clip in, making her way out into the common area with Gail close behind. The houseminder was just exiting from the stairs that led to the boy's rooms on the second floor and came over. 

“Headmistress wants to see you after breakfast. She said to go straight to Administration before any class.” The older student’s eyes searched her face in such a way that invited an explanation. 

Swallowing hard, Bridget looked down and gave a simple nod. Her stomach had hit the floor the second he asked to speak with her, and she had a very good idea what this was about. She could hear Niles and Kurtis in her mind, yelling that she was done, gloating over her actions. 

But what of theirs? Vex whispered. Where is the justice for our blood spilt? 

Bridget was halfway through a reply when she looked up and realized the houseminder was still standing there, watching her. 

“Oh, uh… thanks?” She fought the urge to look over at where Gail lurked nearby. 

The boy nodded, and Bridget realized she had never really looked at him that closely before. His nose looked like it had been broken too many times and healed by someone with no idea what they were doing. Shifting his weight, the houseminder cleared his throat. “Anyways, how’s your sis-?” 

“She’s great.” Bridget cut him off flatly. The last thing she wanted to discuss right now was Adelaide. Even the mention of the topic was like baiting a Mountaincore, the roar of yesterday’s pain echoing as it reared up inside her. “Terna. After breakfast. Thanks.” She repeated, before turning and rapidly walking away towards the bathroom, praying he would be gone by the time she emerged. 

When Bridget braved the common area again, the houseminder was indeed gone and she had decided to skip breakfast. Her stomach was twisting and flopping hard enough that the thought of food wasn’t attractive. When she voiced this to Gail, the tall girl looked over at her. 

“Alright, but we’ll have to face him eventually.” She sighed. 

Bridget opened her mouth to protest that Niles wasn’t the reason she didn’t want to eat, and then let the argument fizzle out. Instead, she curled up in one of the chairs of the common area, nodding to people as they walked out and going over the previous day’s events in her head so she could prepare the best account for the headmistress. She tried to ignore the trembling piece of her that was now stretched taut, waiting to find out what version of the tale Niles had spun.

She looked over at Gail, who was hastily scrawling out some homework she hadn’t completed. 

“You’re not alone.” She could hear her friend’s voice from the night before, echoing in her head. If there was one small comfort Bridget had walking in, she hadn’t been the only one there, and she hadn’t struck first. 

Most of the way through breakfast, the door to Honor house swung violently inwards, and Tuck strode through. His eyes were ringed by the purple-dark circles of a man shadowed by too little sleep, his sandy hair seemed even more rumpled than usual. After a moment of wildly looking around, he spotted the two girls. 

“I didn’t know if I was going to catch you.” He said, walking forward urgently. 

His manner set Bridget on guard, and she sat up straight in her chair. “Catch me?” 

“Before Terna. Listen, Briddy, I’m really sorry.” He sank down so he was crouching near her. Bridget glanced over at Gail, wordlessly asking her if she had any idea what he was going on about. The dark-headed girl shook her head, brow creased in befuddlement. 

“Tuck, if this is about yesterday, that is in no way your fault-” 

“No, Briddy, listen we don’t have a lot of time.” Tuck leaned in, placing a hand on the arm of the chair. “I heard you got called to Terna’s office. Half the cantina did.”

“Wonder how.” Gail drawled, without looking up from her homework. 

He glanced back at her, rubbing his jaw tenderly and grimacing before turning back to Briddy, who was searching his face. 

“How are you doing?” She asked softly.

“I–” He cut himself off. “I’m fine.” Tuck’s eyes flicked up to meet hers in a moment of silent understanding. 

Bridget hated that he was echoing her own words back to her, hated she understood the meaning hiding behind them. Swallowing, she broke the gaze. She couldn’t blame him for it, either. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Tuck looked away too. “I wanted to warn you… or at least, I thought you should know…” He fumbled over the words. 

Bridget’s brow creased, and Gail abandoned all pretense of caring about her homework. “Warn me?” Briddy leaned in. 

“That is… I’m sorry.” He exhaled, leaned back on his heels, and ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t make a report against Niles, Briddy.” 

There was a space of silence filled with several blinks and a dropped jaw before Gail spat: “What?” 

“What do you mean you can’t go to Terna?” Bridget didn’t bother to hide the outrage in her voice. 

Shrinking from the rapidly raising volume, Tuck raised his hands as if in surrender. “I’m really sorry.” He said miserably. “He’s my cousin, Bridget.” 

“So?” Bridget leapt out of the chair. “He’s already gone and told on me, Tuck! I’m going to have to defend myself!” 

“I know that! I know that…I just can’t…help you.” Tuck let his hands fall as he crossed his arms. 

Bridget’s mouth formed around several sets of choice words, all set to rip into him, but he looked so defeated and drained that she let them die in the air as she glanced at Gail, and then back at Tuck. 

“Why the river’s rush not?” Gail scoffed. “He may be family, but he’s still a piece of-” 

“Because,” Tuck spoke over her. “It’ll be a mark on his record.” 

Bridget gave him a long look of disbelief. “It’s going to be a mark on mine, Tuck!” 

He rubbed his temple. “I know, Briddy. And I’m really, really sorry.” 

“I’m not the one that hit you!” 

“And I don’t have a choice!” 

Bridget sucked on her teeth. “What does that mean?” 

Students began to trickle in from breakfast, leaving early to grab materials or showers before class. Taking a step closer, Tuck lowered his voice. 

“My family needs Niles to succeed. There are debts that have to be paid, debts due now that he is the heir to our relic, and they hinge on him being contracted after graduation.” 

Gail scooped up her things and crammed them into her bag with unnecessary force. “This is ridiculous. If that’s the case, maybe he shouldn’t act like such a creepy little arsewipe, then.” 

“Or maybe he knows that’s why he can,” Bridget muttered. Niles’ absurd confidence was making sense now, and she was starting to feel sick. 

“Briddy, I’m really sorry-” 

“Maybe stop telling her you’re sorry and go tell the truth” Gail snapped, stomping over and looking at Bridget. “We can’t just let you go into Terna’s and take the fall for him.”

“I can’t Gail. His record–” 

“It’ll mess hers up too!” Gail hissed. 

“Briddy will be fine! Gilded Down’s set to snap her up the second she’s out of here, but that’s not true for us! We have testing, and internships, recommendations, and licensing, and then maybe, maybe, we’ll get hired. Not all of us get to have famous fathers!” Tuck was pleading at this point, unaware of he struck home. “Some of us get fathers that are just a mess.” 

Bridget looked him over, took in his words and the sad slump of his shoulders, and felt her own defeat settle in just in time for the chimes to sound the end of breakfast. Looking between her two friends, she glimpsed Gail’s simmering heat, glancing between Tuck and her, waiting for permission. Then she saw the large boy’s sad, guilt-ridden eyes, unable to keep her gaze for longer than a second, but desperately begging when they did. Both of her friends were looking for something different from her in this moment, in one of the worst moments, when she needed them for strength and yet Briddy found herself needing to be strong. 

“I understand.” She reassured Tuck, swallowing her screams and the pain of his betrayal. 

“It’ll be ok. Wait for me.” She murmured to Gail, wishing she could give her the go-ahead to release the anger they both shared, but needed to rein in. 

Bridget waited for them to say something, anything. Even just to echo the words back. 

Instead, they turned away, one in shame, the other in anger, each trying to hold onto the own pieces she had fit together for them, and she was left alone once more to sweep up hers. One of the worst feelings in the world is feeling alone in front of the people who were supposed to feel like home, and Bridget was in the wilderness. Everything that she had pieced together had been knocked apart, and now she was being doomed by a friend whose situation doomed him in a way she understood all too keenly. It was fine though; she could always find new ways in which to crack. After all, Bridget was at her best in broken glass.