Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Thalia

It’s dusk by the time I leave Conclave Hall, and my head’s spinning. It took hours to catch me up on what happened during my seven-year absence.

Of course, this came after I cleared the air about Bastien. This was done with a simple but heartfelt apology to the members, acknowledging that I’d let my emotions rule and promising that I had them in check.

They were all very gracious, but really, they had no choice. I am the ruler now that I’m back, and they’re still walking on eggshells around me, fearing what I might levy as punishment for what they did.

But truly—and they don’t need to know this—I’m past it. My mother taught me to let go of things weighing down my spirit as they do nothing but cloud logic. I could stay stuck within my hurt and anger, or I could move on to help my people.

I’ve chosen to move on and leave behind the negative emotions.

This includes Bastien. I’ve accepted he is no more than a tool in my arsenal to defeat Ferelith.

A very powerful and probably the most important tool but nothing more than that.

Kieran waits for me outside the hall, and I’m surprised to see him. I flash a faux-evil grin. “You here to escort me to Bastien’s? Make sure I don’t shank your brother?”

Kieran chuckles. “Bastien can handle himself. I just wanted to check on you to see how your day went.”

I sigh, rolling my neck, stiff from tension and sitting at a table all day. “I’m a bit overwhelmed, but at least I feel like I have a handle on things.”

Sweeping his hand in the direction we’ll be walking, I fall into step beside him.

“I suppose you wouldn’t let me stay at your place,” I ask, bumping my shoulder against his. My memories of Kieran are warm and fond. He was like the brother I never had, especially once Bastien and I stopped being friends and started being… more.

“I would if Bastien would allow it, but he won’t. You’re his responsibility, and he takes that very seriously.”

“Responsibility or burden?” I mull out loud, hating to be a bother to anyone. I’ve always been self-sufficient.

“You would never be a burden to him,” Kieran chastises.

I scoff, hating that pinch of bitter emotion welling up inside me when I’d resolved earlier to let it go. “And yet, he sided with the Conclave to send me away. To wipe my memories. To take me out of the fight when I should have been leading the people.”

Kieran’s hand latches onto my wrist, stopping our progression, and he turns me to him. Always an affable man, his expression hardens slightly. “He sent you away because he loves you.”

“Loved,” I point out. “Past tense. And how great a love could it have been when now that I’m back, he treats me like a stranger who annoys him?”

Sighing, Kieran glances back down the street to Conclave Hall, and I can tell by his expression that he’s warring with something.

“What do you know?” I press, sensing that deep down, something significant has changed in Bastien. I’ve been pondering this relentlessly, all sorts of ideas bouncing around in my mind. Did his father’s death destroy him? Has the endless war hardened him? Or, something that makes my stomach pitch end over end—does he love someone else?

Kieran’s gaze comes back to mine, and he releases my wrist. “The Conclave didn’t explain the spell that was enacted to send you to the First Dimension?”

“No. They updated me on the war—battles and Ferelith’s magic and other affairs of state.”

Blowing out a breath, Kieran’s expression saddens. “I had hoped someone would explain it… if not the Conclave, then Bastien. But he’s few on words these days.”

“Explain what?” I prod, a panicky feeling growing inside me.

“Bastien was against sending you away. He didn’t believe it was safe.”

“I know. But something changed his mind.”

“The Conclave changed his mind,” Kieran says grimly. “Because they found a spell that could protect you completely for as long as it took us to win the war.”

I was well protected. For seven years, I’d lived in peace without so much as a horse wrangler attempting to steal my stock. I’d gleaned enough to know that the ring on my finger had something to do with the protection, and I’ve since learned that Maddox took it from me to precipitate my return to Vyronas.

Kieran steps closer. “In order to give you the protection you needed, Bastien had to sacrifice his love for you. It was taken from him via magic and put inside you. The ring was added protection, but it was his love that has kept you safe.”

“And left him cold and heartless,” I murmur, reaching the ultimate conclusion of how this story ended for Bastien.

“At least where you’re concerned,” Kieran says and that makes me feel worse.

I suck in a breath through my nose, letting it out slowly. My pulse hammers at the implications. That bright light in his chest—beating in tune to his heart—it left him and slammed into me. It was a gift I could never repay, and yet part of me hates him for doing it. He made the decision without me, and I would’ve much rather stayed here in danger, spending every minute I had left in this world by his side instead of in another dimension without him.

And now… I’ve returned to my lands in grave peril, my citizens being murdered, and the man who I thought was my soul mate no longer that man.

My loss is keen, and it makes my legs tremble with weakness.

“Are you okay?” Kieran asks, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I shake my head, feeling something inside me die. “No. But I’ll have to get over this too, I suppose.”

“Maybe there’s hope—”

“Don’t say that,” I snap, cutting him off before he can complete such a thought. “I only have room to hope for peace in my land. I’m letting this go.”

Kieran’s hand falls away, and he nods sadly. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

We’re silent as we walk the few blocks to Bastien’s house. The sun is fully set, and the lampposts flame with magical light. In a few hours, the pink moon will rise and lend shimmer to the night air.

As we approach the path that leads to the porch, I see a man sitting there. It takes me a few seconds, but recognition dawns.

“Archer!” I break into a run as he pushes himself up from the stoop. He barely makes it down to the sidewalk before I crash into him.

My cousin’s brawny arms come around me, and I let him hold me tight, having the first bit of true comfort and security since my memories returned.

“Missed me, did you, pipsqueak?” he asks, and I laugh into his chest, choking back a sob.

Lifting my head, I peer up at him. Archer is tall, like all the Clairmonts, and has his mother’s blond hair and brown eyes. Same as my father’s. “You’re here,” I say with a quavering voice.

“Kieran sent word,” he replies, putting his hands to my shoulders and pushing me back slightly so he can get a gander at me. “You seem well. A bit more tanned than I remember, and still with that sassy gleam in your eye.”

Laughing, I grab his arm and tuck mine through his bent elbow. “Come inside and let’s have tea. I’ll tell you all about my adventures.”

We turn for the porch, and I glance back at Kieran, feeling the need to invite him as well. Except he’s gone, and while I adore Kieran, I’m glad to have time alone with Archer. He’s my only family now and the closest thing I have left of my parents.

We enter the cottage, and I can tell by the stillness that Bastien isn’t here. Searching the cupboards, I find a tin of Bastien’s preferred tea. I also find a loaf of fresh-baked sourdough and in the icebox, some cheese.

“I don’t have anything else to offer,” I say as I set the food on the table with plates. “The Conclave fed me a bit ago.”

“It’s good,” Archer says, digging in while I stand near the stove and wait for the water to heat. I could help it along with a little punch, but I’ve never been one to rely on magics to cure impatience.

I take the opportunity to study Archer. He’s aged some over the years. I haven’t seen him in probably close to nine years as he lived in the city of Malmune with his mother, my father’s sister. They traveled around Vyronas a lot and even into the First Dimension, but they’d visit Kestevayne several times a year. He’s older than me by five years, which makes him only thirty-two, but he’s got gray in his short beard and lines around his eyes.

Stress of war?

Perhaps.

I knew Archer and Aunt Cinnie were safe after we were forced to flee Kestevayne. Malmune is in the far west and out of Ferelith’s reach, for the time being. I didn’t get to see him, though, before I was sent to the First Dimension.

“Tell me everything,” I insist once the tea kettle shrills. I pull it from the stove, cut the heat, and pour the boiling water into a teapot sitting on the counter. “I know it’s been years, but to me, it was like yesterday that Ferelith took over. How’s Aunt Cinnie?”

Archer’s expression clouds over. “I lost her not long after Kestevayne was taken.”

“What happened?” I ask, my heart sinking. I lower into a chair beside him and take his hand.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. She died in her sleep.”

“I’m so sorry.” Tears well in my eyes, and I know that as I reconnect with acquaintances, I will hear more of these stories. Seven years is a long time to be away.

Over tea, we reminisce about Aunt Cinnie and growing up with visits to Kestevayne. Archer catches me up on where he’s been spending his time, which is basically staying put in Malmune while Ferelith’s forces are occupied elsewhere. Even though Aunt Cinnie was a Clairmont royal and held strong magic descended through our lines, Archer’s father was Scrinia. Archer could’ve chosen to study with others of that line, or he could’ve attended family affairs as a Clairmont royal. Since I was usurped, he’s served as more of an advisor to the people in Malmune and often travels here to meet with other royal houses to exchange information and make plans.

I hear the same news from Archer that I did from the Conclave—Ferelith forcing blood oaths, wanton murder, panic spreading through the land as she advances her forces to other cities.

“It’s only a matter of time before she moves west,” Archer says.

“We’ll stop her before then,” I vow. How we’ll do that, I still have no clue, but I’m angry about the years wasted while I was gone. “I should have been here. I could have done something.”

Archer gives me a stern look. “You can’t think that way. We don’t even know if your magic is powerful enough to do anything. You can’t have guilt or regrets. It will tear you apart.”

“How can I have guilt or regrets when it wasn’t my choice to leave?” I ask.

“It really wasn’t Bastien’s choice either.”

My eyebrows lift in surprise. It was absolutely Bastien’s decision to send me away. He had to agree to the magical sacrifice of his love for me. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“The Conclave forced his hand,” Archer says, and my chin jerks inward. Kieran said nothing about this.

“What do you mean?” I ask hesitantly, knowing I won’t like the answer.

“They were adamant you had to be sent away. Bastien didn’t think the First Dimension was safe, so the Conclave came up with another option.”

“The spell that withdrew his love for me—”

“No,” Archer says, cutting me off. “That was their second plan. Their first was to put you in a magical stasis between dimensions, and only they would have the doorway to reach you. It would’ve been safe, but you would’ve been suspended in darkness, alive and floating in nothingness, with only your thoughts to keep you company.”

I shudder at the thought. “That would’ve been hell!”

“I heard through the grapevine that Bastien tore up Conclave Hall in a rage and threatened to kill all of them if they did that to you.”

I feel the blood drain from my face, bile rising in my throat. I had no clue that had happened, and their offer to send me to the First Dimension with protections only he could ensure was absolutely the better option.

“He didn’t trust the Conclave not to do as they were threatening,” I whisper. And I remember his last words to me: Never forget that all I do for you, I do out of love. “He was protecting me not just from Ferelith, but from the Conclave.”

My anger flares again but defuses just as quickly. It was an idea they had, not something they acted on. Whether they would have, I can’t guess, and I don’t have the ability to investigate this right now. For all I know, they came up with that horrendous plan to force Bastien to accept the original strategy.

Regardless, our efforts must be focused on coming together as a team to defeat Ferelith. Admittedly, it dims my anger toward Bastien.

“Tell me all about Wyoming,” Archer says, perhaps feeling that I need a change of subject. “My mother and I visited the First Dimension frequently, but never there. Do they have cowboys like the history books say?”

That makes me laugh, which is something I haven’t been doing a lot of since my return. We spend the rest of the time talking about my life on the horse ranch and everything I left behind.

Archer leaves after we finish tea, and he promises to visit tomorrow. “I’m going to stay in the area for a while. I think you need family here.”

Gods, I appreciate that. While I know Kieran has my back, he’s not family.

After cleaning the kitchen, I sit out on the front porch to enjoy the warm evening air and stare up at the full pink moon.

I think about Bastien and his sacrifice. It’s only made me curious to know more, and I want to hear it from him. I need to know exactly what it did to him and if he has regrets, although I expect he’ll say he doesn’t.

How can he when I suppose he’s not even really aware of what he lost?

I wait on the porch for at least an hour, hoping to catch Bastien coming home so we can talk. But eventually, I have to admit I’m more exhausted than curious, and I head back inside.

Digging through my backpack, I grimace over the heavy flannel pajamas I brought with me. They’re perfect for chilly July nights in Wyoming but will be stifling here in Vyronas during the summer.

Without any thought to my actions, I move to the dresser and rummage through Bastien’s clothes. Latching on to a short-sleeved, cotton summer shirt—something he’d wear to train in—I sigh as I put it on. Not only does it caress my skin with its softness, but it smells like him.

Like the man I used to know.

I push away the sadness that threatens to overtake me and consider pulling the damn thing off. It makes me want the impossible.

But then I yawn, too exhausted to fall prey to further emotional upheaval.

Bone-tired, I crawl into the large bed and pull the quilt over me. As weary as I am, I’m frustrated half an hour later when sleep still eludes me.

I toss and turn, wondering where Bastien is. In my mind, I keep replaying everything I learned today. It’s eating me alive, the juxtaposition of my feelings—so very angry at him for giving up his love, and at the same time, so very sad for all he lost.

He’s lost more than me, because while I can look past my harsh feelings over what he did, I can’t help that I still love him. To me, it was only yesterday that we were walking in the apple groves, madly in love. Those feelings don’t just die, and they clearly can’t be stopped just because I tell myself and anyone who listens that I’ve left it all behind me.

As I lie here in the dark, it’s only to myself that I admit that I’ll probably love him until the day I die.