Bastien didn’t respond but even if he could, Thalia rolled right on. “Will you not respect this horse and cherish him?”
Growling, because he knew where this was headed, Bastien muttered, “I will do all those things.”
“And do you not do all these things for your beloved dog, Baltazar?”
“Yes,” Bastien gritted out.
“Then,” Thalia said with a dramatic wave of her hand, “I declare this horse is indeed a pet.”
King Jaron threw his head back and laughed. “I believe she has you there, my boy.”
Thalia positively glowed with pride.
“But,” the king said, shooting his daughter a tempering look, “naming a horse that will become a war stallion is an important task and really should be left up to Bastien.”
That relieved Bastien greatly because this was the first horse he’d bought himself. But at the same time, Bastien was proud of Thalia for catching more fish than he had, and he didn’t ever welsh on bets.
So he relented and said, “Fine. What do you want to name him?”
Thalia circled the horse three times, concentration keen on her face. She finally took his big black head in her hands and looked him in the eye. Her connection to animals was almost magical, and the colt stared back at her.
“You’re a beautiful boy,” she murmured, her soft voice affecting Bastien in ways he didn’t like to admit. “I think I shall name you Greta.”
Thalia leveled an impish grin at Bastien, and while he wasn’t overly happy with the name, he knew he’d never forget her smile.
The memory plagued him as he removed Greta’s saddle. Over the last seven years, Greta often stirred memories of Thalia. Granted, Bastien brushed them aside as if they were no more than an annoying gnat, but today he almost smirked at the remembrance.
Try as he could to avoid her this past week, she’d been on his mind constantly. Every night since her return, he’d dreamed of her. Some were sweet memories of times they’d shared. One was incredibly erotic that he never wanted to end, and when he went to sleep each night after, he’d hoped for the same dream to come.
Bastien was roused from his thoughts by shouting outside the stable. He stepped out to see King galloping wildly into the courtyard, and Bastien’s heart sank when he realized Thalia was not in the saddle.
Racing forward, Bastien snagged King’s reins as people gathered around. Frightened, King reared, but Bastien was able to bring him under control. Kieran approached, and they quickly appraised King for injuries, finding none.
“Where’s Thalia?” Bastien shouted to the crowd, but everyone was bewildered. “Has anyone seen Thalia? Archer? The guards who went with them?”
No response.
Panic rose in Bastien’s chest as he handed King’s reins to a stable boy. Looking around the crowd of gathered soldiers, he pointed consecutively to six of them. “Saddle up now.”
In less than two minutes, Bastien and Kieran led a search party away from Clairmont and in the direction from which King had come.
Bastien urged Greta faster over hills, streams, and through the woods in the general direction Archer had said they’d be fishing. He prayed to the gods, calling on Veda personally, since she seemed most interested in his relationship with Thalia, begging that Thalia be found safe.
The men spread out, and Bastien slowed Greta to circle the area, but the grass was pristine. A shrill whistle had him wheeling around, and a soldier cried out he’d found tracks. Once again, they raced along the forest path until they broke into an open area. Bastien could see the edge of the cloak coming into view.
There’s no way Thalia would’ve left the protection voluntarily. Either she was removed forcibly, or she left her horse and wandered off in a different direction, which was unlikely.
“Bastien,” Kieran yelled, and he turned that way. Men on the ground, bloodied and unmoving.
Then Bastien saw the cloak ripple and shimmer, and to his surprise, Archer’s horse came trotting through. Archer was pitched forward in the saddle, barely hanging on. Kieran spun his horse alongside Archer’s mount and grabbed the reins just as Archer fell off.
Bastien jumped from Greta and ran to Archer’s side. He had a nasty laceration across his forehead that bled profusely. One of the soldiers hurried over with a cloth to press against the wound.
“Where’s Thalia?” Bastien demanded as he helped him sit up.
“Don’t know,” Archer slurred. “Attacked. Took Thalia.”
Bastien growled in frustration. “Why were you outside the cloak?”
“Tried. To. Follow,” Archer managed to say before passing out.
“Gods damn it,” Bastien bellowed as he rose, clenching his fists.
He swung back into Greta’s saddle, his eyes locking with Kieran’s. They shared an unspoken sentiment—it was not looking good. Thalia had been taken, and they had to assume Ferelith had orchestrated it.
Archer was going to be of no help, so with orders to the soldier attending Archer to stay behind, Bastien led the others through the cloak to search for their princess.