Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Bastien

The quaking violence within Bastien was almost impossible to suppress as he rode with Thalia back to Clairmont. Kieran stayed behind to help tend to the dead—both Ferelith’s men and Clairmont’s—as well as see to a healer for Archer’s injuries.

After Bastien assured Thalia that Archer would be fine, she slumped against him in the saddle and was surprisingly quiet on the journey back.

He was thankful for this because he imagined that if she had the energy to talk, she’d want to talk about their relationship.

Bastien had never been so blindingly mad as when he’d seen that man on top of Thalia, knowing his vile intentions. He wasn’t even that mad when the soldier had cut off little Sam’s leg, and back then, he thought the rage would consume him.

Yes, he killed the man too fast. He should have ordered him back to Clairmont where he could torture him over and over again, for days and days, and then maybe some of his fury would diminish.

The question needed to be answered, though… why did Bastien feel so strongly? He shouldn’t have that depth of emotion where Thalia was concerned. The magics that had stripped his love ensured that.

And yet, he could no more help himself from pulling her into his arms for comfort than he could give up oxygen to breathe. It was just… natural.

That bothered him mightily because it meant he could no longer ignore what Thalia and Kieran had been telling him all along.

That perhaps something could be rebuilt.

Bastien brushed the thought aside, just as he’d brushed away thoughts of Thalia for the last seven years. He’d gotten good at it.

It was late as they rode back into town, and he was grateful—he knew Thalia would never want her people to see her like this. He went to the stables first and, after dismounting Greta and handing him over to a groom, he bent distance and took Thalia to his house. She stood at his side, his hand at her elbow. She didn’t utter a word as they stepped into the living area.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Bastien said, directing her to the bathroom. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Not hungry,” she murmured, and her monotonous tone concerned Bastien.

He didn’t argue. He’d make her food regardless, and then he’d make her eat. She was so pale, and she looked dead on her feet.

Releasing her as she stood at the sink, Bastien turned on the water to fill the galvanized steel tub. He knew it was a far cry from the luxuries of the porcelain tubs of the First Dimension, but the hot running water, powered by ley lines, would ease her muscles.

When Bastien straightened and turned to Thalia, he caught her staring at herself in the reflective glass above the sink, rubbing her neck where the collar had been. It was slightly red, but not overly abraded. Still, he imagined not having access to her magic was as torturous as the physical assault had been.

“Are you hurting anywhere?” Bastien asked.

Her gaze slid to him. “All over. I might need you to check my back on the left side. It burns.”

With a nod, Bastien moved behind Thalia and lifted the hem of not only his shirt, but her torn one underneath it. Three-quarters of the way up, along her shoulder blade, he found the source of her discomfort—a large scrape about the size of her palm. It was bleeding in a few places and had stuck to the shirt, causing her to hiss when he pulled it free.

Reaching over, he grabbed a cloth from a dowel next to the sink. He gently pressed it against her skin and then pulled it away. Only a few drops of red blood soaked in.

“I’ll get some salve, but it’s not freely bleeding,” he said, showing her the cloth.

Nodding, she clutched the shirt to her front and moved to the tub as it filled.

“Take your time,” he said, indicating the bath.

She didn’t reply, and he didn’t know what else to say, so he left, pulling the door behind him. He didn’t shut it all the way, though, in case she needed to call to him. He had half a mind to sit in there with her. She looked so exhausted, he was afraid she might slip under the water, but that was in no way feasible.

So he’d just have to listen to make sure she was all right.

In the kitchen, Bastien found stew that either Thalia had made or someone had brought over. He put it on the stove to heat and cut some thick bread to go with it. He was appalled to find that his hands were shaking, and he set the knife down to study them.

Bastien had never seen his hands tremor like this before, although this wasn’t the first time he’d been scared for her life. Thalia had been a daredevil growing up, and she’d given him more than one heart attack before.

A memory stirred, one he hadn’t thought about in years.

Not since Thalia had been gone, actually.

It was just days before her eighteenth birthday, and a huge celebration had been planned. Royal families from all the major cities were coming for the event.

Bastien and Thalia were in the stables, saddling their horses for an afternoon ride. He wasn’t on duty, and these days, he’d rather spend time with Thalia than with his friends. Her parents felt she was safe with Bastien, which spoke not only to the fact they were in peaceful times but that they had unwavering trust in the young captain.

Thalia chattered on about a new gown she’d had made for the party and the type of cake being baked. Bastien smiled but listened with only half an ear because while he adored Thalia and their friendship, he wasn’t interested in stuff like that. Still, he entertained her need to talk about those things, just as she listened to him talk about training. They had plenty of other things to talk about in between.

“… and they say that Baynor Sorin is going to ask for my hand, but honestly, my parents would never marry me off just to join kingdoms.”

Bastien’s ears perked up, and he glanced at Thalia over Greta’s neck as he put on his bridle. “What did you say about Sorin?”

Bastien couldn’t stand the prince, who was the same age as him. While a royal, Sorin still received military training and did so under Bastien’s father, Graeme Dunne. So he knew the man well and found him pompous and self-centered.

“Honestly…” Thalia sighed as she moved from behind her own mare and faced Bastien. “Don’t you ever listen to me? I said I was excited he’s coming to my party. And I have it on good authority that he might ask for my hand in marriage.”

Marriage? Was she kidding? She was just turning eighteen. Bastien scoffed. “You’re way too young to be thinking of marriage.”

She beamed. “I know that, dummy. It doesn’t mean I can’t have fun in the meantime.” Thalia waggled her eyebrows as she laughed.

Bastien sighed. She was such an imp, and gods help the man who finally wed her. He’d have to be on his toes constantly.

Bastien and Thalia rode out past the city walls, turning east to ride along the coastal cliffs. They chatted about topics that mutually interested them, such as politics and history. Bastien, having recently been promoted, explained his new duties and that he’d be leading an entire regiment for House Clairmont. Thalia filled Bastien in on some new healing spells she’d created.

The twosome were relaxed and happy. Their time together had always been so easy.

Until it wasn’t.

“Bastien,” Thalia said as their horses plodded side by side. The Marionov Sea sparkled from the rose gilded sun shining down, and seagulls cried in the distance. “Would you teach me how to kiss?”

Bastien was so stunned, he jerked too hard on the reins and Greta reared as he sputtered. “What? No! Kiss you? Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Thalia asked petulantly. “You’re my best friend. And,” she added slyly, “I’ve seen you kissing Petra, so I know you’re good at it.”

Bastien gaped at her, horrified she’d spied him kissing another woman. He was, however, grateful that was all she’d spied, for at age twenty-three, he did far more than just kiss women these days.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Thalia grinned.

Bastien remained mute.

“The cat must have it,” she muttered with an exaggerated pout. “Because I clearly won’t be having it today.”

A belly laugh over her own joke exploded from her, but Bastien could do nothing but stare agog. Also, it didn’t help that her bottom lip sticking out like that did nothing but make him want to kiss her.

He pushed past his bewilderment. “What has gotten into you?”

“Oh, quit being so stuffy. I’m just having a little fun. Although, if you’re willing to teach me, I wouldn’t mind learning how to kiss. I want to be ready, you know, for when Baynor arrives.”

The thought of Thalia kissing Baynor Sorin frothed Bastien’s blood like lava about to erupt from a volcano. It didn’t seem to matter to his brain that he had been doing his own kissing—and other things—with other women. He simply didn’t want Thalia kissing another man. He understood it was a double standard, but he couldn’t help how he felt.

Baynor wasn’t good enough for Thalia. No one was, really.

“Okay, I give up trying to get a rise out of you. You look like someone just rubbed dung under your nose. How about a race instead? To that copse of trees over there.”

Bastien glanced in that direction, grateful the subject of kissing had come to an end. “That’s not a good idea. We’re too close to the cliffs, and the ground is uneven in places.”

“Stuffy, stuffy man,” Thalia taunted in a singsong voice. “Besides, if I win, you have to teach me how to kiss.”

Before he could deny her request for a race, much less a kissing lesson, Thalia kicked her mare in the flanks and took off toward the trees, about a half mile ahead along the cliff line.

Not wanting to race and truly worried about Thalia’s safety, Bastien considered not engaging. But she’d thrown down the gauntlet by wagering a kiss, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to do that.

Essentially, he had to win.

Bastien gave a loud “Yah!” to Greta, who jumped forward into a hard gallop. Thalia had a good head start, but there was no way her little mare could beat Greta. Bastien urged his horse faster, gaining ground, while watching Thalia ahead. Her dark hair streamed behind her, and she laughed as she glanced over her shoulder at him. The sound carried on the breeze, and he couldn’t help but grin back.

Thalia crouched in her saddle, leaning forward over her mare’s neck, giving her every bit of rein so the horse could run free. They ran so close to the cliff’s edge, Bastien could hear the waves crashing against rocks below.

“Get ’em, Greta,” he urged his steed.

The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion.

Thalia approached a small ditch, something her horse should have easily been able to jump. They cleared the ground but on landing, one of the horse’s front legs buckled slightly, causing her to pitch sideways. The horse righted herself, but Thalia wasn’t ready for the change in momentum and flew over the mare’s left shoulder.

Bastien watched in terror as Thalia hit the ground and rolled. His heart stopped as she went right over the cliff’s edge.

He was there no more than a second or two after Thalia went over, jumping from Greta before he even came to a full halt. He ran the last few steps and dropped to his knees at the edge to look over.

Bastien expected to see Thalia’s mangled body on the rocks below, but was shocked to see her face grinning at him no more than a foot away as she held on to a vine.

“Fuck, Thalia!” he yelled as he braced himself with one hand on the ground and reached the other over to grip her wrist. “You gave me a gods-damned heart attack.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“Of all the stupid… idiotic… dumb… stupid…” Bastien sputtered in both anger and relief as he straightened to pull her up.

“You already said stupid,” Thalia pointed out as she rose upward.

Bastien gave one more hard tug to bring her over the edge, and the momentum made him stumble. His heel clipped a rock, and he fell backward.

Thalia went right with him.

Bastien hit the ground hard. Thalia landed right on top of him.

And just like that, his anger and fear dissipated as he felt how soft Thalia’s body was, her entire length pressed against his. Her breasts mashed into his chest, and her face hovered inches above his with her dark hair spilling around them.

Thalia gazed intently at Bastien’s lips and sighed. “Are you sure you won’t give me a kissing lesson?”

It was difficult, but he managed to hold back a groan. He was not able to manage his body’s reaction, however, and he grew hard just by lying in this position with her and thinking about kissing. Bastien tried to think of anything that would take his mind off her soft body and her lush mouth—and his thickening erection.

Her father will kill you if you even think about kissing her, he told himself.

That didn’t make a difference. In fact, Bastien thought one kiss might be worth death.

Thalia shifted, the apex of her thighs rubbing against him in just the right place. A bolt of pure lust shot through Bastien, and that got him moving. He rolled and pushed Thalia off, jumping to his feet.

So damn awkward as he stood above her, the evidence of his desire right there for her to see.

And see she did, her eyes rounding, a blush staining her cheeks.

Bastien spun away and tried to rearrange himself, but he still needed to make sure she wasn’t hurt. “Are you okay, Thalia?”

“I am,” she said, and because she was the worst of imps, she asked, “Are you?”

Gods, he wanted to wring her neck for being foolish in the first place, scaring him half to death, and then for causing a physical reaction he’d have preferred she not witness.

But even though he was annoyed beyond belief, a realization swept through him like a tidal wave.

He was in love with Thalia Clairmont and had no idea what to do about it.

“Bastien.”

Thalia’s voice echoed through the bathroom door, and he felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on him. He’d been so deep in the memory of that moment when he realized he’d loved her, and at that point, they hadn’t even shared a kiss.

Setting the bread knife down, Bastien moved through the small house to the bedroom. The bathroom door was still cracked, and he moved to it, lending his voice without looking inside. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, opening the door. Her head was wet, and she had a towel wrapped around her body. “I was hoping you could put salve on the abrasion before I get dressed.”

He should have turned around to get the healing supplies.

He should have averted his eyes.

But he could not help looking at her. He ran his gaze from her head to her toes. He grimaced at a bruise at her temple he hadn’t noticed before and the slight redness from the collar. Thalia clutched the towel closed at her chest, but he scanned to where it ended just below her hips, exposing a lot of leg.

His jaw locked, teeth gritted, and his vision narrowed as he saw the bruises on her thighs. “What the fuck happened?” he growled, his eyes snapping up to meet Thalia’s. “Did he… did that monster…?”

Had that fucker raped her and she didn’t tell him?

Thalia’s hand pressed against Bastien’s chest, and his head dropped to stare at it blankly. He could feel his heart thundering against the slight pressure of her touch.

Thalia whispered, “He didn’t rape me, Bastien.”

He lifted his head, staring at her beseechingly. He had to see the truth there, not just hear it from her lips.

She nodded. “Those bruises he gave me while we were riding. He kept pinching me there. Well, all over, really.”

“All over?” he asked thickly.

“Everywhere,” she confirmed, and he could only guess that her breasts were probably mottled with the same purple bruising.

Bastien didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t kill the man again. He couldn’t rage to Thalia about it, because it would scare her. He couldn’t go get drunk, because he needed to tend her wounds and feed her.

So he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He held it for the count of five and ordered his heart rate to slow.

To try to be at peace with the fact that she was safe.

When he opened them, he couldn’t stand how Thalia looked at him. With pity, because she knew he was swimming with emotions that had long been dead.

Bastien spun away. “Let me get the salve.”

He found some in his medicine chest and applied it silently to the scrape on her back. He then ordered her into clothes and went into the kitchen to ladle a bowl of stew. Thalia came out in a pair of long-sleeved pajamas, indicating she must be chilled from the trauma, despite the fairly warm evening. Her hair was dry, which told Bastien she’d used a spell on it.

He watched her as she ate. Made her drink a cup of honey wine.

When she was done, he followed her into the bedroom and ordered her to get some sleep.

She didn’t argue, climbing under the quilt and lying on her side facing him as he watched from the door.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her head resting on the pillow with her hand curled underneath. “For saving me.”

“It’s my job,” he replied, but that’s not why he’d saved her.

“Would you do me a favor?” she asked, not waiting for him to say yes or no. “Would you hold me until I fall asleep?”

Bastien was backing up from those words before she even finished the question. He shook his head. “It’s not a good idea.”

“For whom?” she inquired quietly. “For you or for me?”

He was ashamed of the answer because it wouldn’t be good for him at all.

“Forget it,” she said and even attempted a friendly smile. “You did enough for me.”

Thalia turned over to her other side, her back now to him. She pulled the covers over her shoulder and curled into herself.

Bastien stood frozen, unable to leave even as his brain told him to do so. But that stupid fucking heart of his that hadn’t worked right for years begged him to stay.

Moving quietly to the edge of the bed, Bastien sat on it and swung his long legs onto the mattress. The dipping motion caused Thalia to look over her shoulder at him.

“Come here,” he said gruffly, lifting an arm and indicating she should move into his side.

She didn’t hesitate.

She rolled fast and snuggled right into him, her head going to his chest, her arm wrapping around his waist.

It was foreign to Bastien. He knew that she’d slept like this against him many nights before, but he couldn’t remember it feeling so good.

In fact, it felt way too fucking good right now, and he had no clue why. This simply shouldn’t be happening, and yet there was no denying that he was getting as much comfort from this as Thalia was.

But as good as it felt, it also seemed wrong. Like he was wrong for doing this. Like he didn’t deserve it, and she didn’t deserve false hope.

Bastien reasoned that he’d hold her until she fell asleep, and then he’d ease out of the bed. He would not return to the dorms, however. Knowing that she was so easily taken from within the protective cloak, he would not allow Thalia out of his sight again. He was a soldier, though, so he didn’t mind sleeping on the floor.