The Shadow Princess, page 5
Over the next several weeks, we were on the run and reunited with many citizens and soldiers loyal to my family. My supporters gathered in secret places hidden under cloaks of magic. We rallied, and we planned. Weeks went by while strategies were made for war with the usurper, Ferelith Haramish. We would regain Kestevayne.
Troubling news kept filtering to us that Ferelith was using powerful blood magic, which was absolutely prohibited in Vyronas. We couldn’t fight her with it and faced moral dilemmas never presented to us before.
Bastien worried constantly for my safety, for Ferelith needed me dead. I imagine the sacrifice of my blood would give her powers we couldn’t even imagine. The Conclave worried because if I died, Kestevayne would be lost.
A plan was ultimately hatched by the Conclave to move me to safety until they could amass enough forces to retake Kestevayne. It was a plan I would not agree to, and we were in stasis.
Every ruling family had a Conclave—an appointed group of advisors. They descended directly from daemons who practiced druid mysticism and are known as the Scrinia. Their line of citizens are powerful in magic and supposedly wise in all ways. While rulers didn’t have to always agree with their Conclave, they did listen to them carefully and almost always took their advice.
I wasn’t having any of it, though.
I refused to be separated from either Bastien or Vyronas, despite the immense danger from a crazed sorceress amped up on blood magic. I was the ruler of Vyronas now, and I was in charge.
Except… I wasn’t.
I focus in on the very last memory I have before beginning my new life.
“How long have I been here?” I ask, my voice shaking with more emotions than I can name.
Bastien doesn’t answer, but Kieran does. “Seven years.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, cursing under my breath. I bury my face in my hands, and my stomach churns as I recall my last memory of Bastien.
We walked together, hand in hand, in a small apple grove. We’d settled into a camp at the base of the Rosethorn Mountains and cloaked the entire area under a protection spell held firmly in place by the Conclave and bolstered by a large ley line running through it.
Bastien had stood by my side in agreement with my decision to stay in Vyronas. His father, Graeme, was the commandant of the military, and Bastien was a high-ranking officer under him. The Dunne name carried clout. The Conclave had been stepping lightly around us. While they are respected, they are but one-third of the ruling equation.
“It’s nice not having the Conclave breathing down my neck to go away until Ferelith is defeated,” I mused. It was a beautiful day with cool breezes and the fragrance of tart apples in the air.
Bastien didn’t respond, but gathered me close in his arms. His nose in my hair, he took a deep breath. “I adore you,” he murmured gently.
I snuggled into him, relishing our time together as it had been hard to find quiet moments in the midst of war. “The feeling is very mutual.”
He then stared down at me. His gaze searched mine, as if I had answers to questions he hadn’t thought to ask. I lifted to my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his.
Bastien’s hands came to my face, and he took control, something he was very good at. The kiss deepened, and I started to spin, letting my troubles melt away.
Lifting his head slightly, he whispered urgently against my mouth, “Never forget that everything I do for you, I do out of love.”
Sighing, I melted into him, my body molding to his. I loved him like no other, and he made it easy to forget our perils.
But then Bastien abruptly released me, and with his hands at my shoulders, he held us apart. I tipped my head and frowned, thinking he might have some important words of affirmation. His face was so serious as he said, “I love you. Please don’t forget that.”
A sudden wind whipped around me, swirling my hair around my head and flapping my dress against my legs. But the breeze didn’t touch Bastien who stood only an arm’s-length away. His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.
His arms fell away from my shoulders, only to take my left hand in his. His expression frightened me. It was one of complete and utter guilt.
I felt his fingers working at the pink diamond on my left finger, not to remove it but more like he was fiddling with it. He had put that ring on my finger as our commitment to marry and when I glanced down, I gasped to see the diamond was gone, a smooth black stone in its place.
There was so much confusion and before I could comprehend the meaning behind the change to my ring, Bastien pulled free and stepped back. I tried to move to him, but I was frozen.
“What have you done?” I shouted over the wind. I held my arms out to him, silently begging him to come closer.
He stepped farther away, and my eyes widened in astonishment as a yellowish-orange glow emanated from the center of his chest. His face contorted in pain, and his fists clenched tightly as the glow turned a deep red.
“Bastien!” I screamed, terrified that somehow Ferelith had found us and was at this very moment killing him.
“I’m sorry,” he yelled above the whipping wind, that deep voice riddled with remorse.
The crimson light in his chest coalesced, tightened, and seemed to pulse in time to what I believe might have been his actual heartbeat.
Then it flew from his body, coming fast. It slammed into me, and I gasped at the invasion. It’s like all of Bastien’s emotions and feelings and devotion were pumping inside my blood. It felt foreign but not unpleasant.
Warm and comforting and purposeful.
Something tugged at me, and I watched in horror as Bastien faded before my eyes. It was at that moment I realized what was happening.
I was being sent through the veil and away from Vyronas. That also meant Bastien had betrayed me.
“No!” I screamed in fury, the treachery hurting as much as my parents’ deaths. The hurt was crippling—it spelled the death of our love. “Please stop this.”
I tried to fire up my magic, call on the ley lines to strengthen me, but nothing happened. Bastien stood there, watching me with a grim expression. His eyes, usually so warm and expressive, were ice-cold now.
There wasn’t an ounce of love or even regret within that beautiful face, and I wondered if he was working for Ferelith. Had he betrayed not only my heart but the throne as well?
Before he faded completely, the last thing I recall was dropping my arms to my sides and clenching my fists so tightly, my nails drew blood from my palms. Fueled by my anguish, power surged through me, but not enough to break his spell. It was enough, however, to seal a vow. “I hate you,” I screamed. “And I will never forgive you for this.”
He seemed unmoved by my words and merely pivoted on his foot, giving me his back. He walked away as I was pulled from my world, and he didn’t even care enough to look at me again.
I let out a wail of heartbreak as I was wrenched from Vyronas and everything I knew.
I’m jolted out of my memories, my eyes springing open. There’s no embarrassment in the wetness staining my cheeks as it’s born not of a broken heart but a vengeful one. My breath is ragged.
Without even thinking, I launch off the couch and round the coffee table. I cock my right arm back and slap Bastien as hard as I can across his left cheek. It makes a resounding and satisfying crack, rocking his head to the side.
“You son of a bitch,” I snarl through gritted teeth, attempting to slap him again, but his arms band tightly around me.
I struggle mightily, but he’s too big and strong. I attempt some kicks, a knee to his nuts, but he turns his body away and holds tight until I wear myself out.
“Let me go,” I seethe, writhing left and right.
“Calm yourself, and I will,” he mutters.
Hatred burns in my gut, but my energy wanes. “Let me go,” I repeat, this time keeping my voice level.
Bastien regards me dubiously, but his arms fall away.
Kieran steps toward me, his features awash with sympathy. “Thalia… I know this has been a shock, but—”
“I want you and your brother out of my house right now,” I snarl at him. “Don’t ever return here again.”
Shoving past Bastien, I run to my bedroom. After I slam the door, I throw myself on my bed, face into my pillow.
Fuck… my chest hurts. It feels like my heart has been ripped in two. For me, the pain of betrayal is fresh, since I’m experiencing it as if it just happened instead of seven years past.
What’s worse, I would have expected remorse from Bastien. If he loved me the way I thought he did, regardless if he was sending me away for my own safety, I would’ve expected him to feel horrible about it. At the very least apologize and try to explain his actions.
Instead, he’s totally indifferent. Not just now, but I remember the expression on his face right before I was pulled through the veil.
He didn’t care.
He had just kissed me, told me his actions were done in love, and then showed an utter lack of emotion. It’s so confusing.
The only thing I know for sure is that I can’t trust him in any way. He either betrayed me and doesn’t care, or he’s not loyal to me at all. There’s no way I can safely agree to go with him—he could be taking me straight to Ferelith.
I pop up, cursing myself for my thoughtlessness. Living in the isolation and wilds of Wyoming, I’ve been taught by my dad to always have my gun during perilous times.
Wait… no… that’s a false memory. I had no father here in Wyoming. That wasn’t my reality, just magic keeping me oblivious to the truth.
Still, it was stupid of me to leave my gun in the living room.
I roll off the bed, tiptoe to my door, and put my ear against it. My bedroom sits right off the living area, and I can hear Bastien’s and Kieran’s voices.
“That went well, don’t you think?” It’s more of a statement than a question. “Here… drink this.”
I imagine Kieran is pushing the drink from earlier into Bastien’s hand.
“In what way did that possibly go well?” Bastien growls.
“It seems she had the option of shooting you with that gun of hers. So, I’d say things went pretty well compared to what could have happened.”
I should have shot him. That would’ve been more satisfying than the slap across the face.
“Are you okay, Bastien?” Kieran’s voice holds uncharacteristic concern. As memories have filled me and I remember my life in its entirety, I know Kieran is forever joking and teasing, regardless how depressing a situation. If he’s concerned, then things must be very bad.
“I’m good,” Bastien says, his tone flat. That isn’t the man I know.
Or rather, knew.
There’s something very wrong about him, and I have to wonder what in the hell has happened these last several years to change him so much. “Get Thalia’s horses together with all the necessary tack. We’re leaving for Vyronas soon, and she’ll want to take the horses with her.”
Damn it. If I had my gun, I’d sneak out my window and guard the horses.
“I’ve got it covered,” Kieran says, and I hear him walk out the door.
Footsteps fall heavy across the pine flooring, and I realize they’re coming straight for my door. I turn the lock just before Bastien rattles the knob from the other side.
I scramble back, knowing it won’t keep him out. My legs no sooner hit the side of my bed than Bastien kicks open the door with a spray of broken wood. A fearful yelp squeaks from me, and I summon my long-buried magics. Prepared to knock him flat on his ass, I hold my arms out to the side, close my eyes, and murmur ancient incantations.
Except… nothing happens.
No power floods my body, my senses don’t tingle with anticipation of unleashing a spell on him, and when I open my eyes, Bastien is watching me with annoyance.
“Your magic won’t work here,” he says.
“Why not?” I demand, shaking my hands. Maybe I’m just rusty.
“You don’t have any magic. You know our powers come from the magic that’s threaded into the fabric of the land and the ley lines that run throughout. You’re on empty, but your powers will return once we go back.”
Yes, I did know this. But it’s pulling on my existing knowledge that’s rusty, not my actual skills.
“But I shook off that spell you hit me with to integrate my memories,” I point out suspiciously.
“You didn’t break it,” he counters. “I chose to end it once it accomplished its goal.”
My fingers flex outward with the raging desire to conjure magic and turn Bastien into a toad. Instead, I try to sound reasonable in my request. “I’d like you and Kieran to leave. I appreciate your help, but now that I know what might be coming, I can protect myself.”
“We’re not here to protect you, Thalia,” Bastien says. “We’re here to collect you, and you will be coming with us. I suggest you pack whatever you want to take with you.”
I scoff with indignation. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you. I want you out of my life, and I never want to see you again. Can I make that any clearer?”
I square my shoulders to lend extra authority to my statement. I wait for him to say something, but he only stares at me.
Perhaps I’m not being direct enough. “Don’t you think you’ve brought enough pain to my life? If you have any decency whatsoever, if you want to make amends for the hurt and betrayal you’ve heaped upon me, please go and leave me alone.”
My voice now borders on whiny, which is pathetic, and I hate myself for it. Thalia Clairmont, heir to the throne of Vyronas, exhibits no weakness to anyone. And yet, I feel like crying again.
Although I may have lost my country, and my parents were killed, it’s the loss of not only Bastien’s loyalty but his love that has me on the verge of crumbling.
He regards me impassively, features carved from granite. Will my vulnerability cause some level of humanity to shine forth from that arctic gaze?
Bastien takes two steps toward me, coming toe to toe. I can’t back up as I’m pressed against the bed, but I don’t look away.
In fact, I raise my chin in defiance.
This could be a pivotal moment.
I’m stunned when he says, “I don’t have time for your princess dramatics, Thalia. You need to grow up and act like a woman, not a petulant child.”
Inhaling sharply with surprise, I sputter, “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to—”
“A damn spoiled brat, I’m thinking.”
My jaw drops open. Am I in the Twilight Zone? How dare he say these things to me when he should be groveling at my feet for forgiveness? I’m the victim here, yet he’s acting like he’s the one who should be affronted. When red covers my vision, I don’t have any control over my actions.
I wind my arm back, prepared to launch a right hook at that stubborn jaw that used to feel my lips but now will only feel my wrath. I take the swing, knowing I might even break a few knuckles, but it’ll be so worth it.
Regrettably, I’m stopped a few inches short of my target by his big hand banding around my wrist. Bastien’s voice is cold with menace while his eyes blaze with fury. “Don’t even think about doing that again because I will put you over my lap and blister your bottom. Then I’ll put you in shackles and carry you out of here. I suggest you remember that you are Thalia Clairmont of the House of Clairmont and sovereign ruler of Kestevayne. Your subjects are suffering, starving, and dying, and they’ll continue to do so without your help.
“Most of all, if you fail to return with me, you will dishonor the memory of your parents. Their murders will have been in vain, and that will be on your head.” Bastien snarls those last words as he releases my wrist.
His ire immediately dies, and he looks worn to the bone. “Now, you have fifteen minutes to pack up what you want and get ready to go.”
Bastien pivots and strides out of my bedroom. I stare after him only a few seconds before turning to my dressers. I don’t need any time to consider my next move.
His reminder that my people need me is enough inducement to get moving.
Suffering, starving, and dying.
There’s no choice but to help them.
I’ve also heard enough from Bastien to determine he’s still a loyal subject of Vyronas, which means he’s developed a hatred for me over the years, for some unknown reason.
Regardless, he wants what’s best for our country, and so do I. Thus, I’ll return with him and Kieran through the veil.
CHAPTER 6
Thalia
I stride out of my house, locking the door behind me. My possessions include the clothes on my back—jeans, an olive-green work shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and my cowboy boots—and a pack filled with other clothing essentials more practical than my usual royal attire. I’m heading back to war, and I have no intention of sitting in my princess tower to watch things unfurl.
By the gods, I’ve lived the last seven years running a horse ranch on my own. I’m capable of far more than just wearing a crown.
I’m going to be in the thick of it.
With my hair in a low ponytail under my favorite Stetson, I head toward the barn. Immediately, Bastien appears out of the shadows to walk by my side. He’s vigilant for potential danger as noted by his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, but I’m going to assume no further attacks will come tonight. Only when Ferelith’s erchras fail to return with the prize—which is probably my head—will she know she’s failed.
Speaking of which, “Why did Ferelith send erchras to bring me back?”
The erchras are Underworld demons that can be conjured with dark magic, something I’d learned about in my studies growing up. But they’re not the smartest beings and are easily duped.
“I’m guessing she didn’t care if they brought you back,” Bastien replies curtly as we reach the barn. “I suspect they had orders to make a meal of you.”
I shudder at the thought. Had Bastien and Kieran not shown up, I would be dead. No matter how good I am with a gun or how smart I am, there were three of them. I wouldn’t have survived.
