Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

Bastien

Violence rippled through Bastien as he watched Thalia walk away with Sorin. He wanted to wring her neck for kissing him in such a way that made him want to abandon Vyronas and whisk her off to another dimension. He wanted to kill Baynor Sorin for proposing marriage in exchange for troops. Most would jump on such an offer. If Bastien’s dad were still alive and in command, he’d encourage Thalia to take the deal because if they were going to win the war, they had to unite all the royal houses. They didn’t have magic to defeat Ferelith, but with the royals unified, they could at least outnumber her forces. Perhaps they could overrun them and get a lucky shot at killing Ferelith.

Fuck… that kiss.

If he could wipe it off his face, he would. But at the same time, he wanted to grab her right now, drag her away, and spend an entire day just kissing her.

A memory assaults him viciously.

Thalia’s eighteenth birthday. The palace ballroom opened onto lush gardens with blooming flowers sparkling in the rose-colored moonlight. Several white tents had been erected, each decorated with flaming lanterns. Tables covered in crisp linen were adorned with vases of cream roses and pressian flowers.

A sprawling buffet offered an amazing assortment of food—a variety of baked and grilled fowl, including pheasant, chicken, and peacock, and platters of fire-roasted vegetables. One table held a long row of fish pies baked with figs, raisins, apples, and plums. Cold and hot soups took up another table, surrounded by fresh-baked flatbreads. Dessert was a simple lemon cake that stood five tiers tall with light cream frosting.

Lemon was Thalia’s favorite flavor.

Bastien could almost smell the scents as he thought back to that day.

In attendance with a woman he’d been screwing around with, Bastien was having a miserable time. Truthfully, he hadn’t been right in the head since the “almost” kiss during his horse ride with Thalia a few days prior.

He’d become obsessed with it, and while he’d wanted her before, now it went beyond all reason.

It was ludicrous to even let his mind go there. He was of the warrior caste. She was a royal. While he and his father were well respected and even treated as family, it was still tradition that royals married royals. It galled him that Baynor Sorin would be attending the party and most likely proposing to Thalia.

Bastien’s date—a member of the maiorn caste whose father owned the largest bank in Kestevayne—chattered on about all the gowns on the women in attendance, trying to draw him into commentary. He didn’t give two fucks about fashion.

That was… until Thalia walked into the ballroom with her parents. Her strapless silver gown had a plunging neckline and hugged every curve, starting at her breasts and continuing down her thighs where it dropped into loose folds that swished around her ankles. He’d never seen Thalia wear something so revealing before, but he supposed that’s what happened when a young girl became a woman.

Of course, he’d felt the fullness of those breasts as they pressed against him the other day, so he knew that although she’d been a few days away from adulthood, she was every bit a woman then.

Chestnut locks artfully curled on top of her head with loose tendrils that framed her lovely face. She wore no makeup other than something on her lips to make them shine, which distracted him greatly. She was stunning in her own right without the need for the colors on her face that were all the rage in those days.

Bastien’s chest tightened as Baynor Sorin approached Thalia. He bowed slightly, made a request to which she nodded with a coy smile, and she walked with him to the dance floor.

“… blow this party and go have some fun of our own?” Magdalene whispered in Bastien’s ear, lightly running her tongue along the edge.

Startled, Bastien involuntarily jerked his head back. “What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.”

Gliding her fingertip from his chin down his neck, she murmured, “I said, how about we blow this party and go make some fun of our own?”

Bastien glanced back at Thalia dancing with Sorin and noted the young prince’s hands were appropriately placed, so he wouldn’t have to kill him anytime soon.

“Bastien,” Magdalene pouted. “Pay attention to me.”

Reluctantly, he turned to his date. She was beautiful and adventurous in bed, but that’s all she was. Casual sex had never been taboo in their land, and Bastien hadn’t wanted anything more than that.

Until now.

Now all he could think about was Thalia—and figuring out how to stop her from marrying the prince of Croyden.

Taking Magdalene’s hand, he led her out of the ballroom. She giggled and followed along easily. They journeyed down a long hallway, and Bastien chose a small empty sitting room.

Once inside, he closed the door and immediately had to fend her off as she launched herself into his arms.

He held her back and shook his head. “My regrets, but I can’t continue to be your escort tonight. I’ll be glad to take you home or you can stay for the party, but what we’ve had going…” Bastien released her wrists. “It’s at an end now.”

Magdalene appraised him coolly. “You know, you have to give up your crush on the princess, Bastien. It’s never going to work out.”

He wanted to pretend he had no clue what Magdalene was talking about, but he couldn’t. He was breaking things off with her right now because all he cared about was Thalia, and he couldn’t be with someone else, even if it was just casual.

Still, he had no intention of sharing his innermost feelings with this woman, who was truly not much more than a casual acquaintance he met up with periodically.

“Thalia and I are just friends, Magdalene.” It was the sad truth. “In fact, I believe she’ll have a marriage proposal before evening’s end.”

Magdalene’s laugh was light, amused, not at all bitter. She moved toward Bastien and patted his chest affectionately. “You’re more than friends, and you know it. I sincerely hope things work out for you, but if they don’t, you know where to find me.”

And with that, Magdalene sauntered out of the sitting room, leaving Bastien relieved at her easy capitulation. It was not his intent to hurt her feelings, but it appeared she was no more invested in him than he was in her.

Still, it was with a heavy heart he returned to the ballroom. As son to the commandant of the army, he was expected to attend, but even if he wasn’t, it was Thalia’s birthday. He would paste on a smile and celebrate with her because she was his closest friend, and he adored her. He’d smile even if that asshole Sorin proposed and she accepted.

He’d mourn in private.

Bastien grabbed an ale from a passing servant and found a spot far enough away from the ballroom floor that he wouldn’t be solicited to dance, but close enough to see Thalia. She was still dancing with the prince, and she laughed frequently as he regaled her with gods knew what. It soured Bastien’s mood further, and he wondered if he’d be able to get away with murdering a prince.

“Mind if I join you?”

Bastien turned to find Queen Selena smiling at him. She was the most powerful woman in Vyronas, yet Bastien was always at ease in her presence. King Jaron’s presence, too, for that matter. Neither sovereign ever made Bastien feel anything less than a true friend to the family. They appreciated his overwatch and devotion to their daughter and had told him so on many occasions.

Bastien dipped in a slight bow, not required, but he did it anyway. “I would be honored, Your Highness.”

“Oh, come now, Bastien. You know when it’s just us, you can call me Selena. We’re not formal, you and I.”

“It’s a very formal occasion,” Bastien replied with a smile, his gaze drifting back to Thalia on the dance floor. “Everyone who’s anyone in Vyronas has turned out for this.”

The song’s last notes faded, and Sorin whispered something to Thalia. She nodded, and he swept her into another dance as soon as the music resumed. Fuck if she didn’t look too comfortable in his arms. And was it his imagination, or was Sorin spending far too much time glancing down at Thalia’s cleavage? If so, Bastien might have to kill him right on the dance floor.

So lost in his thoughts, he almost didn’t hear the queen address him.

“When are you going to make a move for Thalia?” she asked.

It was a good thing Bastien hadn’t been sipping his ale, or he would’ve spit it all over the queen he was so shocked by that one simple question.

His head whipped her way. “Excuse me?”

“Bastien,” Selena chided, patting his face like a mother would her own son. “Please don’t play me for a fool. I see how you look at my daughter, and I see how she looks at you. I hear how she talks about you. Constantly. In fact, I don’t think I can be around Thalia for ten minutes without her mentioning you, and when she does, her eyes sparkle.”

Bastien felt like a kid receiving a surprise gift. “Really?”

“Really,” she said with a resounding nod. “So why is Prince Baynor out there wooing my daughter? Or rather, why are you letting him take what should be yours?”

Bastien was flabbergasted to hear the queen speak so frankly about Thalia. “In all honesty, Selena, I’m not confident I’m good enough for the princess, being from the warrior caste. I wasn’t sure how you and King Jaron would feel about it.”

Selena’s laugh was musical. “My dear man, you have been around us enough to know Thalia is our pride and joy. We want her to be happy. If Thalia wants you—and I assure you she does—then we would love you just for making her happy.”

“But I’m not royal,” he pointed out.

“There’s no rule that says royals have to marry another royal bloodline. It’s tradition, but it’s not set in stone. Besides, your magic is strong, and you are very important to this kingdom. One day, you will be the leader of all those who protect us. I can’t imagine my daughter being in better hands.”

Bastien’s gaze went back to the dance floor. Sorin was speaking to her, an earnest expression on his face. He could be proposing to her right now.

“You’re a good man, Bastien.” He turned back to face the queen and she went up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Don’t you forget that.”

“What are you doing kissing my wife?” King Jaron chided playfully as he came up behind Selena and wrapped his arms around her.

“Oh hush, Jaron. I was just wishing Bastien good luck on a new endeavor he’s decided to undertake.”

“And what is that?” the king inquired.

Selena grinned at Bastien as she took her husband’s hand. “Come, darling, let’s dance. I’ll fill you in.”

Bastien didn’t move from his spot, even though Thalia’s mother, the queen, had just given him unfettered approval. Selena even said that Thalia had feelings for him the way he did for her.

Instead, Bastien watched the king and queen dance. Selena talked, clearly explaining the conversation she’d just had with the young warrior. King Jaron glanced over and offered a wink and a reassuring smile.

He had the king’s permission as well.

Bastien’s heart swelled, and everything felt very right in his world. He had Thalia’s parents’ approval, and now all he had to do was tell her how he felt.

Not waiting another minute, he set his tankard of ale on a table and walked across the ballroom floor, weaving in and out of the dancers.

“Mind if I cut in, Prince Baynor?” Bastien asked as he came upon the couple.

Sorin looked irritated, but propriety dictated that he share. “Well, I have been taking up all of Thalia’s attention, but I can assure you, it has been time well spent.” He then lifted Thalia’s hand to his mouth and lightly kissed her knuckles. “I must have the next dance, Princess Thalia. There’s a matter of import I’d like to discuss with you.”

Bastien wanted to punch him in the face. Instead, he nodded at Sorin and then turned to Thalia.

He almost couldn’t stand how beautiful she looked, but he wasn’t going to waste a moment without his arms around her. With the ease of a man who’d attended many a ball, he pulled her into him—one hand holding hers, the other wrapped around her back. It moved her so close to him, their bodies brushed, and she blinked in surprise.

“I didn’t even know you danced,” she teased.

“It’s a required part of our training in the warrior caste. It’s how we learn to dance around our opponents during battle.”

“Really?” Thalia asked, her eyebrows rising with interest.

Bastien laughed as he shook his head. “No, not really. We have better things to do with our time.”

Thalia chuckled. “Good one.”

She looked up at him, eyes searching his, and he was overcome with nervousness. “Penny for your thoughts,” Thalia said, a smile flirting at the corner of her lips.

“I was just thinking…” he began. Can I do this? Will this forever change our friendship?

Trying to push past any doubts, he smiled as his eyes bore into hers. “I was simply thinking… well, that I love you.”

Thalia’s mouth dropped open and she stumbled. It was no big deal as Bastien easily caught and corrected her, smoothly gliding along the marbled floor.

She stared at him with an unreadable expression. Not a return sentiment or a declaration for him to go to hell.

Just silence.

Bastien, wondering if perhaps Selena had things all wrong, was on the verge of taking it all back with some stupid excuse like he’d had too much to drink, but then Thalia broke out into the widest, sweetest grin—one that made his heart clench with yearning. “It’s about damn time, Bastien Dunne, especially since I’ve been in love with you since I was eight years old.”

There was no helping himself, and he knew he’d probably catch hell from his father later, but Bastien stopped their dance right in the middle of the floor and brought his hands to her face. He dipped his head and kissed her for the very first time, and nothing in his twenty-three years had ever compared to that feeling of connection, love, intimacy, and desire.

Thalia was his, and he was never letting her go.

“If we canhave order,” Laina Mercea’s voice rang out in the hall. It broke Bastien out of his memories. He was surprised to see Thalia and Sorin had returned and were on the dais with Laina. “We’d like all the royal representatives and Conclave members to gather around the table so we can begin discussions on moving our alliance forward.”

The designated heads moved to the dais while accompanying family members filled the rows of benches.

Sorin himself took a chair, yet Thalia moved Bastien’s way. He was braced for just about anything, but he wasn’t sure how he’d react if she approached him as a newly engaged woman.

Like all those years ago on Thalia’s eighteenth birthday, Bastien figured perhaps he should just kill the prince. That would solve his immediate jealousy, which was beyond unfathomable. In the library, something overtook Bastien, and he felt the need to not only possess Thalia but to brand her as his.

He wondered if he was losing his mind. His brain and heart were at war, and he didn’t know if he could trust his feelings.

The only thing he knew was that the closer Thalia walked toward him, the more tense he became. When she stopped before him, his hands were clenched into tight fists.

Thalia’s expression was unreadable, and her tone held no emotion. “You have your twenty thousand troops. Make wise use of them, Bastien.”

For a lifelong warrior, that should have pleased Bastien mightily. Instead, his eyes drifted over to Sorin. Bastien figured he’d never get away with murder, but he might have to beat some sense into him. Looking back to Thalia, he asked through gritted teeth, “And what did he get in return for those troops?”

The way Bastien felt at that moment, if she told him that the cost was an engagement, he would decline the troops and figure out some other way.

There was no satisfaction, though, in her answer. “That, Commandant Dunne, is none of your business. Your business is to train the troops I’ve gained and use them to win the war. I did my part. Now do yours.”

“Thalia,” he warned. “You’re seriously pissing me off.”

“What else is new?” she snapped, turning away. “You can help Laina run the rest of the meeting. I’ve done my duty, and now I’m going to visit Archer.”

His hand flashed out, grabbed her arm, and forced her to turn back to him. “Tell me you aren’t marrying Sorin.”

Thalia’s eyes flared with anger. “I’ll tell you no such thing.”

“You don’t want him, Thalia. Why would you marry someone you don’t want?”

“He’s an extremely attractive man,” Thalia huffed, then glanced over at Sorin who was deep in discussion with Ranulf, his Conclave chief. “Of course I’d want to marry him.”

Red filled Bastien’s vision and his instinct was to pick Thalia up, throw her over his shoulder, and walk out of the hall with her as his prize.

Instead, he jerked her into his body, dipped his head, and murmured just low enough so she could hear. “I’m going to prove it to you otherwise right now.”

Holding Thalia tight, Bastien bent distance back to his cottage, into his bedroom where he pushed her down on the bed.