Stress of war?
Perhaps.
I knew Archer and Aunt Cinnie were safe after we were forced to flee Kestevayne. Malmune is in the far west and out of Ferelith’s reach, for the time being. I didn’t get to see him, though, before I was sent to the First Dimension.
“Tell me everything,” I insist once the tea kettle shrills. I pull it from the stove, cut the heat, and pour the boiling water into a teapot sitting on the counter. “I know it’s been years, but to me, it was like yesterday that Ferelith took over. How’s Aunt Cinnie?”
Archer’s expression clouds over. “I lost her not long after Kestevayne was taken.”
“What happened?” I ask, my heart sinking. I lower into a chair beside him and take his hand.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. She died in her sleep.”
“I’m so sorry.” Tears well in my eyes, and I know that as I reconnect with acquaintances, I will hear more of these stories. Seven years is a long time to be away.
Over tea, we reminisce about Aunt Cinnie and growing up with visits to Kestevayne. Archer catches me up on where he’s been spending his time, which is basically staying put in Malmune while Ferelith’s forces are occupied elsewhere. Even though Aunt Cinnie was a Clairmont royal and held strong magic descended through our lines, Archer’s father was Scrinia. Archer could’ve chosen to study with others of that line, or he could’ve attended family affairs as a Clairmont royal. Since I was usurped, he’s served as more of an advisor to the people in Malmune and often travels here to meet with other royal houses to exchange information and make plans.
I hear the same news from Archer that I did from the Conclave—Ferelith forcing blood oaths, wanton murder, panic spreading through the land as she advances her forces to other cities.
“It’s only a matter of time before she moves west,” Archer says.
“We’ll stop her before then,” I vow. How we’ll do that, I still have no clue, but I’m angry about the years wasted while I was gone. “I should have been here. I could have done something.”
Archer gives me a stern look. “You can’t think that way. We don’t even know if your magic is powerful enough to do anything. You can’t have guilt or regrets. It will tear you apart.”
“How can I have guilt or regrets when it wasn’t my choice to leave?” I ask.
“It really wasn’t Bastien’s choice either.”
My eyebrows lift in surprise. It was absolutely Bastien’s decision to send me away. He had to agree to the magical sacrifice of his love for me. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“The Conclave forced his hand,” Archer says, and my chin jerks inward. Kieran said nothing about this.
“What do you mean?” I ask hesitantly, knowing I won’t like the answer.
“They were adamant you had to be sent away. Bastien didn’t think the First Dimension was safe, so the Conclave came up with another option.”
“The spell that withdrew his love for me—”
“No,” Archer says, cutting me off. “That was their second plan. Their first was to put you in a magical stasis between dimensions, and only they would have the doorway to reach you. It would’ve been safe, but you would’ve been suspended in darkness, alive and floating in nothingness, with only your thoughts to keep you company.”
I shudder at the thought. “That would’ve been hell!”
“I heard through the grapevine that Bastien tore up Conclave Hall in a rage and threatened to kill all of them if they did that to you.”
I feel the blood drain from my face, bile rising in my throat. I had no clue that had happened, and their offer to send me to the First Dimension with protections only he could ensure was absolutely the better option.
“He didn’t trust the Conclave not to do as they were threatening,” I whisper. And I remember his last words to me: Never forget that all I do for you, I do out of love. “He was protecting me not just from Ferelith, but from the Conclave.”
My anger flares again but defuses just as quickly. It was an idea they had, not something they acted on. Whether they would have, I can’t guess, and I don’t have the ability to investigate this right now. For all I know, they came up with that horrendous plan to force Bastien to accept the original strategy.
Regardless, our efforts must be focused on coming together as a team to defeat Ferelith. Admittedly, it dims my anger toward Bastien.
“Tell me all about Wyoming,” Archer says, perhaps feeling that I need a change of subject. “My mother and I visited the First Dimension frequently, but never there. Do they have cowboys like the history books say?”
That makes me laugh, which is something I haven’t been doing a lot of since my return. We spend the rest of the time talking about my life on the horse ranch and everything I left behind.