Archer leaves after we finish tea, and he promises to visit tomorrow. “I’m going to stay in the area for a while. I think you need family here.”
Gods, I appreciate that. While I know Kieran has my back, he’s not family.
After cleaning the kitchen, I sit out on the front porch to enjoy the warm evening air and stare up at the full pink moon.
I think about Bastien and his sacrifice. It’s only made me curious to know more, and I want to hear it from him. I need to know exactly what it did to him and if he has regrets, although I expect he’ll say he doesn’t.
How can he when I suppose he’s not even really aware of what he lost?
I wait on the porch for at least an hour, hoping to catch Bastien coming home so we can talk. But eventually, I have to admit I’m more exhausted than curious, and I head back inside.
Digging through my backpack, I grimace over the heavy flannel pajamas I brought with me. They’re perfect for chilly July nights in Wyoming but will be stifling here in Vyronas during the summer.
Without any thought to my actions, I move to the dresser and rummage through Bastien’s clothes. Latching on to a short-sleeved, cotton summer shirt—something he’d wear to train in—I sigh as I put it on. Not only does it caress my skin with its softness, but it smells like him.
Like the man I used to know.
I push away the sadness that threatens to overtake me and consider pulling the damn thing off. It makes me want the impossible.
But then I yawn, too exhausted to fall prey to further emotional upheaval.
Bone-tired, I crawl into the large bed and pull the quilt over me. As weary as I am, I’m frustrated half an hour later when sleep still eludes me.
I toss and turn, wondering where Bastien is. In my mind, I keep replaying everything I learned today. It’s eating me alive, the juxtaposition of my feelings—so very angry at him for giving up his love, and at the same time, so very sad for all he lost.
He’s lost more than me, because while I can look past my harsh feelings over what he did, I can’t help that I still love him. To me, it was only yesterday that we were walking in the apple groves, madly in love. Those feelings don’t just die, and they clearly can’t be stopped just because I tell myself and anyone who listens that I’ve left it all behind me.
As I lie here in the dark, it’s only to myself that I admit that I’ll probably love him until the day I die.
CHAPTER 11
Thalia
The sound of the front door opening has me coming instantly awake. I’d managed to doze fitfully, never fully going under. I am in a strange house in a strange bed, and Vyronas is still a little strange to me after being gone for so long.
I’d left a few lights burning for Bastien out in the main room, and I hear him move into the kitchen where he runs water in the sink.
He sighs, and it sounds burdened with the weight of the world.
His footsteps start coming toward the bedroom, and it spurs me into action. Sitting up, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and wave my hand at the lamp on the nightstand. Light springs forth from the wick. Because my magic fuels it, the glow is soft but illuminates the entire room.
Bastien halts just as he’s crossing the threshold, staring at me sitting on the edge of the bed. There’s no helping it, but my heart actually hurts for him. He looks drained even as he regards me with an open expression of surprise. “Did I wake you?” he asks before that beautiful face hardens into a mask of indifference.
“No. I couldn’t fall asleep. Can I fix you something to eat?”
“I ate earlier,” he replies as he moves into the bathroom. He doesn’t bother to close the door, but I can tell by the sounds he’s washing up in the sink and perhaps brushing his teeth. When he returns to the bedroom, he ignores me. I can’t tell if it’s intentional or if it’s just that he’s tired and lost in his own thoughts.
Regardless, my breath freezes when he reaches to the bottom of his shirt and pulls it up and over his head. He tosses it carelessly to the ground—typical man—and I don’t have an ounce of shame as I let my eyes run over his body. It’s the same brawny build he’s always had with honed muscles from his training, a lean waist and ripped abdomen. The differences I note are in the scarring, indicating he’s been injured in the last seven years as his body was free of such marks before I was sent away.