The Shadow Princess (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 6)

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.