Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Bastien

Bastien’s anger was spent, and it had everything to do with the tears staining Thalia’s cheeks. While it was nearly impossible to conjure the feelings he knew he had for her in the past, her pain sure did a number on his heart.

Gods, she’d pissed him off at Conclave Hall—the audacity to think she could push him out of this fight to regain her throne. Logically, he understood her anger and resentment, but he simply didn’t have time for it. His sole intention in dragging her out of the hall had been to stop her tirade and proclamations to the Conclave that would only dig her a deeper hole.

While she might be heir to the Clairmont throne, his power and authority with the Conclave was far greater than hers at present time. Bastien was the one who kept their people safe and had always worked tirelessly to win this war. He knew, if forced to choose sides, the Conclave would choose him over Thalia, and he didn’t want that for her.

He didn’t want the Conclave to have a poor impression of the newly returned princess, and he most certainly didn’t want to impede her ascent to the throne.

But he couldn’t let her sabotage herself with ridiculous decrees issued by her bruised heart.

And yes… she needed to see Sam. She needed a very clear example of why they were fighting to begin with.

But her fucking tears left him unbalanced and mournful, and he had to get away from her.

Bounding down the porch steps, he made it no farther than the sidewalk before Thalia came running after him.

“Bastien… wait,” she called.

With a sigh, he turned to face her as she walked his way. His usual mask of indifference was firmly in place, although he was pleased to see she’d dried her tears. He didn’t like the way they made him feel.

When she reached him, she looked incredibly pained, and her words bore that. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to remove you as commander of the army and I didn’t mean to subvert your authority in front of the Conclave.”

Normally a master at schooling his features, Bastien couldn’t help but blink in surprise.

But Thalia wasn’t finished. “While it’s no excuse, I’m still a little out of sorts, given how fast my life has changed. I’m operating on emotion, but I’ll get it under control. You have my assurances that I can put aside our personal differences, and I’m more than willing to work with you and the Conclave together in this war.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” he replied with a slight tip of his head.

“I only ask that you swear the same oath the Conclave made to me… that I won’t be sent away again.”

That wasn’t a hard choice because the gods had sent word to Bastien that Thalia was needed here. “I swear it.”

The smile she gave him was almost blinding, and he wanted to step away from her because it made him feel all kinds of uncomfortable. “Good,” she replied and then glanced down the street toward town. “I’m going back to Conclave Hall to apologize for that order and assure them you have my faith in leading the army.”

Bastien was grateful for her change in attitude. “I’m sure they will gladly look past that just as I’m sure they’re very aware you’ve had a trying day already.”

“You’re coming back, right?” she asked hesitantly. “I’m sure there’s still much to discuss.”

Bastien should go back as they indeed had a lot to catch Thalia up on, and they needed to discuss future plans. But now he had something more pressing.

“I have a few important things I must attend to,” he explained. “Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

Thalia looked neither pleased nor put out by his response. She merely inclined her head. “Tomorrow, then.”

He stood back while she passed and watched her walk down the street until she disappeared from sight. He considered posting guards outside Conclave Hall for her protection but figured she would consider that a breach of her autonomy.

Besides, she’s safe under the cloaking spell, and with her magic recharged from the ley lines—he could feel it vibrating off her—she could protect herself if necessary.

Bastien didn’t pause to consider if it was a mistake to decline her invitation to join her at the hall. He really did have something far more important to deal with.

Summoning the image of Merrilyn, Bastien called forth his magic and pulled her home to him across time and space. Stepping across the line, he allowed the two points to snap apart, leaving his home in Clairmont behind. He faced the small stone house that sat alone in the woods.

Still well within the borders of the protection cloak, Merrilyn’s home was fairly isolated. This was by his choice, not hers, and often led to arguments.

On any given day, she begged him to let her move into town with him, but he simply didn’t want the distraction or the responsibility. He didn’t feel guilty about this, either, because he had always been truthful with his boundaries and the limits to what he could offer. Ultimately, they had settled into a relationship that seemed to work for them both, although Bastien knew she still pined for more.

The door to the cottage swung open, and Merrilyn rushed out to greet him, delight evident on her face. “Bastien, what a surprise!”

He didn’t try to stop her from launching into his arms, and he graced her with an embrace. He had hoped to extricate himself before she pressed for more, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid her arms around his neck and her mouth hot on his.

It was with true sadness he gently pushed her back, for he did indeed have very fond feelings for her. She was a great beauty with long, curly, raven-black hair and pale skin. Curvy in all the right ways, she’d warmed his bed for the past few years, but that was all she’d ever be to him.

Bastien held her by the shoulders to keep distance between them. “We need to talk, Merrilyn.”

“Of course,” she replied, ducking her head coyly, her lips pursed. Her hands went to the waistband of his pants, and she tugged playfully. “But first… let’s do something more fun.”

Bastien realized with a small pang of regret that she had just summed up their entire relationship in one word.

Fun.

At least that’s all this was to him. She might feel more, and that’s why he had to come to her now and not later to talk.

Taking her hands in his, he led her into the cottage. He’d commissioned to have it built a little over two years ago when they first started “having fun,” and then they became exclusive. He met her here several times a week, sometimes staying over.

But he always kept his house in town, and she was never invited there.

Merrilyn sashayed sexily as they entered her home, having no clue that Bastien truly did come to just talk. When the door closed, she started unbuttoning her dress while biting her lower lip, usually a surefire way to get him to throw her over his shoulder and take her to bed.

But that wasn’t going to happen again.

“Don’t,” Bastien said, reaching for her hands again and stilling them. He pulled her over to the small table that sat by the window and pulled out a chair. “We really need to talk.”

“Bastien,” she crooned with pouty lips, “you’re scaring me.”

He sighed as he took the chair opposite her, because Merrilyn could be dramatic at times. Oh, she was beautiful, sexy, and witty, and gods, she kept him satisfied in most ways a man could be satisfied, but it was never more than that. Thus, he couldn’t understand why the mere mention of needing to talk should scare her.

There was no way to sugarcoat it. “Princess Thalia has returned from the First Dimension.”

Her face drained of color, but she tried to act indifferent. “And what does that have to do with me? Or you, for that matter?”

“It has nothing to do with you,” Bastien replied neutrally. “But my loyalties lie with the crown, and my primary duties will now be her protection and reinstating her to the throne.”

Merrilyn’s face pinched and her cheeks reddened. “I know what you mean when you say your loyalties ‘lie with the crown.’ You want to fuck her, don’t you?”

Bastien’s head dropped, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He’d been afraid this would happen. Merrilyn could be exceedingly jealous, although he’d never once given her any reason to be. When he was with her, he was with her and no one else.

Sighing, he brought his gaze back to her. “The princess is of no interest to me other than putting her back on the throne. She is imperative to our success in defeating Ferelith. My time now belongs to no one other than the princess and Vyronas, and as such—”

“You still love her,” Merrilyn cried as she pushed up from her chair and pointed an accusing finger at Bastien. “It’s impossible, but you still love her. I just know it.”

“I most certainly do not love her,” he replied indignantly, for Merrilyn was correct—it was impossible. Every bit of his love, emotion, feelings, and care for Thalia as a person had been stripped. He wasn’t even left with a little nostalgic fondness of their time together that might gentle him into being a nicer man these days. As it stood, the nominal things he had to offer Merrilyn were the best he could do.

His denial of loving Thalia seemed to appease her, and she settled back in her chair. “Then what do we need to talk about?”

“It’s over,” Bastien said softly. He tried to soften the words because he knew they would hurt her.

“No,” she cried shrilly as tears started pouring. “No. You can’t do this to me.”

Despite always being utterly transparent with her about what he could and couldn’t give, Bastien had known this day would eventually come, and when it did, it wouldn’t be pleasant.

And it was inevitable this would happen, not because of Thalia’s return but because he simply didn’t want to ever care for anyone again the way he had for his princess. He gave his sacrifice for the greater good and easily accepted the pain that came with it.

He was never doing it again, and he knew that what he had with Merrilyn would end.

Now was the time.

“I’m sorry,” Bastien said as he stood. He was not a completely hardened man and had empathy for her tears as she put her hands to her face and wept. He even had a strong urge to gather her in his arms and soothe her until she was done crying.

But he also knew that any affection or attention at this point would give Merrilyn false hope. He had to make a clean break, and he’d given her his reasoning for doing so.

He simply couldn’t maintain a relationship with Merrilyn and have the time and focus to protect Thalia.

Even as he thought that, he cringed inside because he knew that wasn’t the entire truth. Since Thalia’s return, he simply didn’t want Merrilyn anymore.

Yes, his duties were more important than ever, and he intended to stay close to Thalia until this was over. As they moved forward to battle against Ferelith, Thalia’s life would be in grave danger.

But the truth he struggled to accept was that the minute Thalia came back into this world, everything about a relationship with another woman felt wrong.

It made no sense to him.

He felt nothing for her.

Well, mostly nothing, but he did not love her. He did a check of his heart, and it was closed to Thalia. He had no fairy-tale dreams of marrying her and having children and growing old together. Bastien’s future was about winning this war, and nothing more.

So it was utterly confusing why he felt guilty about having Merrilyn when he was well within his right to be with another woman. He owed Thalia nothing, and she should expect nothing. He’d betrayed her, and even if his heart could work again, she’d never want anything to do with him.

And yet, now that he had broken things off with Merrilyn, he felt lighter and more at peace with Thalia’s return.

He resisted the urge to reach out and touch Merrilyn in a gesture of sorrow for hurting her, instead exiting the cottage. He immediately thought of the military dormitories and training fields on the eastern side of Clairmont and bent distance to travel there.

*     *     *

Bastien found hisbrother coming out of the stables.

“Everything okay?” Kieran asked as he approached.

“I just broke things off with Merrilyn,” Bastien replied.

His brother scoffed and turned toward the little pub that had been built on the outer edge of the military post. “I was talking about with Thalia.”

Bastien wasn’t surprised that Kieran had no concern about his breakup with Merrilyn. He knew as well as anyone that it was never going anywhere.

Bastien also knew that Kieran had been asking about Thalia, but he found talking about her so uncomfortable he’d rather discuss the intricacies of breaking up with a woman he’d been having a sex-only relationship with for the last couple of years.

However, he graced his brother with the information he sought as he walked beside him. “Thalia’s fine and at Conclave Hall.”

They reached the Druid’s Folly, a pub built by a Scrinia who had more fondness for ale than researching and recording history or teaching magics. More entrepreneur than sorcerer, he thoughtfully built the wood hut near the military barracks and even put in a walk-up window for hungry customers to order the only two things on the menu—ale and roasted pig.

Some may say that was shortsighted, but the soldiers were happy with the offerings.

A buxom woman manned the window, and Kieran held up two fingers, which promptly produced two copper tankards of beer. He tossed the woman a coin and winked at her. She sighed and fluttered her eyelashes. Bastien was amused.

His brother made all the ladies act crazy in his wake.

They found an empty table under some oak trees and sat.

“So, how did Merrilyn take it?” Kieran asked, being a polite but concerned brother.

“As you’d expect,” Bastien replied.

And that conversation was over, because Kieran knew as well as Bastien that Merrilyn’s feelings were tied up.

The brothers sat in silence for a bit, sipping their ales and watching training exercises going on in a nearby field. The clang of metal swords and grunts of exertion were music to the two Dunne men who’d devoted their lives to the army.

“Just spill it,” Kieran finally said, and Bastien blinked at his brother in surprise.

“Spill what?”

“Something’s eating you. You’re normally not quiet like this. You should be critiquing the soldiers as they train or filling me in on some idea you have to attack Ferelith. You’re far too introspective, and since you’ve had quite the upheaval today, I’m advising you to get it off your chest.”

Bastien looked away from his brother, toward town. He could see the spire of Conclave Hall rising high above the other buildings, and he knew Thalia was in there now, doing whatever she needed to do to smooth things over with her advisors. He may not remember the actual love he’d felt for her, but he remembered every other detail since he’d first pulled her off the ground after Barney knocked her down.

Thalia would sacrifice her pride so that Bastien would not be demeaned in front of the Conclave. She always did what was best for others, and he supposed that might have been one of the reasons he had loved her.

Bringing his gaze back to his brother, he admitted, “It felt wrong to have Merrilyn now that Thalia is back.”

Kieran frowned. “How so?”

Bastien took a long swallow of his ale and set the tankard down. He grimaced, and not because the beer was bad. “Like I was being unfaithful.”

Kieran studied his brother thoughtfully. “Do you… feel something for her?”

Bastien shook his head. “I reach inside and there’s… nothing. She’s a stranger to me.”

It was the sacrifice Bastien made to ensure Thalia was well cared for and protected in the First Dimension. Part of the reason he’d been opposed to sending her away was not just because Thalia didn’t want it, but because he was unconvinced she could be adequately protected if not by his side.

The Conclave, however, found an ancient spell that, when coupled with an immense sacrifice, would give her everything she needed to survive in the First Dimension.

There would be enough power to create an entirely new life for her, one that made her happy and content. Enough protection would be secured within the obsidian ring to guarantee Ferelith could never find her, and no harm would ever befall her.

But to charge that spell with enough capacity to do all those things, and do it well, the sacrifice had to be special.

It had to be personal.

It was Laina Mercea who laid it all out for him. “If you give up your love for Thalia, and we funnel it into her, we will be able to create an impenetrable spell that will protect her to the end of days, if necessary.”

He really didn’t know what that meant and thus he asked.

“It means that every bit of love you have for her will be gone. You won’t feel anything for her. She’ll be no dearer to you than a passerby on the street who you might wave to in greeting but never think of again.”

“Will I forget her?” he’d asked.

“No,” Laina had said, shaking her head sadly. “You’ll never forget a single memory. They just won’t mean anything to you. Not in the way they should mean something to you.”

Bastien didn’t agree at first and mulled over the proposition for days. He warred with the need to keep Thalia safe and his own selfishness in not wanting to lose her or the way she made him feel.

In the end, he decided to do it because he wanted her safe more than he wanted to love her.

And when he enacted the spell, it coalesced every bit of love, passion, and devotion he held within his being, and he sent it straight into Thalia for her protection.

The minute it left his body—even before it hit hers—he became dead inside, and by the time she was pulled into the First Dimension, he had not one sorrow over what he’d lost.

Sighing, Kieran leaned forward, crossing his forearms on the table, jolting Bastien from his memories. “I had hoped that when she came back… something would spark between you two. That it would cause a change or—”

“There’s nothing there,” Bastien insisted in a low growl. “So why the fuck did I just break it off with Merrilyn? She was a good thing.”

“She was a convenient thing,” Kieran corrected. “Don’t make her out to be more than what she was simply because you’ve got some confused feelings.”

Bastien slammed his fist on the table, causing some nearby soldiers to jump and move a few feet away. Bastien ignored them but lowered his voice. “I don’t have feelings for her, so I’m not confused. I’d tell you if I did, but we both know I can’t.”

Kieran nodded with a mirthless smile. “Not for right now, at any rate.”

“What do you mean by that?” Bastien demanded.

Chuckling, Kieran kicked his brother’s leg under the table. “The love that was there is gone. Doesn’t mean it can’t be created again.”

Bastien reared back, aghast at the thought. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s possible,” his brother pointed out. “They didn’t kill your capacity to love. Just the love you had for Thalia.”

Bastien didn’t buy that for a minute. He had no capacity to love Merrilyn. There had been other women before her. Seven years since Thalia had been gone, and he’d never come close to caring for a woman in any meaningful way other than general fondness. He mostly chose his companions for physical satisfaction, and there was an endless supply of such. Vyronas may not be as modern in technology as the First Dimension, but it was far more advanced in its sexual freedoms.

As he pondered it, he was sure the Conclave had removed any ability for his heart to open to someone. Otherwise, it would’ve happened by now.

And because he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, he rose from the table and left his brother without another word. Bastien headed straight for the training fields where he intended to work out his frustrations on his soldiers.

He’d order ten of them to line up and take them on one at a time. He’d end up bruised and battered by the evening’s end, but it would take his mind off things.