He pivots and storms out of the house.
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.