That bothered him mightily because it meant he could no longer ignore what Thalia and Kieran had been telling him all along.
That perhaps something could be rebuilt.
Bastien brushed the thought aside, just as he’d brushed away thoughts of Thalia for the last seven years. He’d gotten good at it.
It was late as they rode back into town, and he was grateful—he knew Thalia would never want her people to see her like this. He went to the stables first and, after dismounting Greta and handing him over to a groom, he bent distance and took Thalia to his house. She stood at his side, his hand at her elbow. She didn’t utter a word as they stepped into the living area.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Bastien said, directing her to the bathroom. “I’ll make you something to eat.”
“Not hungry,” she murmured, and her monotonous tone concerned Bastien.
He didn’t argue. He’d make her food regardless, and then he’d make her eat. She was so pale, and she looked dead on her feet.
Releasing her as she stood at the sink, Bastien turned on the water to fill the galvanized steel tub. He knew it was a far cry from the luxuries of the porcelain tubs of the First Dimension, but the hot running water, powered by ley lines, would ease her muscles.
When Bastien straightened and turned to Thalia, he caught her staring at herself in the reflective glass above the sink, rubbing her neck where the collar had been. It was slightly red, but not overly abraded. Still, he imagined not having access to her magic was as torturous as the physical assault had been.
“Are you hurting anywhere?” Bastien asked.
Her gaze slid to him. “All over. I might need you to check my back on the left side. It burns.”
With a nod, Bastien moved behind Thalia and lifted the hem of not only his shirt, but her torn one underneath it. Three-quarters of the way up, along her shoulder blade, he found the source of her discomfort—a large scrape about the size of her palm. It was bleeding in a few places and had stuck to the shirt, causing her to hiss when he pulled it free.
Reaching over, he grabbed a cloth from a dowel next to the sink. He gently pressed it against her skin and then pulled it away. Only a few drops of red blood soaked in.
“I’ll get some salve, but it’s not freely bleeding,” he said, showing her the cloth.
Nodding, she clutched the shirt to her front and moved to the tub as it filled.
“Take your time,” he said, indicating the bath.
She didn’t reply, and he didn’t know what else to say, so he left, pulling the door behind him. He didn’t shut it all the way, though, in case she needed to call to him. He had half a mind to sit in there with her. She looked so exhausted, he was afraid she might slip under the water, but that was in no way feasible.
So he’d just have to listen to make sure she was all right.
In the kitchen, Bastien found stew that either Thalia had made or someone had brought over. He put it on the stove to heat and cut some thick bread to go with it. He was appalled to find that his hands were shaking, and he set the knife down to study them.
Bastien had never seen his hands tremor like this before, although this wasn’t the first time he’d been scared for her life. Thalia had been a daredevil growing up, and she’d given him more than one heart attack before.
A memory stirred, one he hadn’t thought about in years.
Not since Thalia had been gone, actually.
It was just days before her eighteenth birthday, and a huge celebration had been planned. Royal families from all the major cities were coming for the event.
Bastien and Thalia were in the stables, saddling their horses for an afternoon ride. He wasn’t on duty, and these days, he’d rather spend time with Thalia than with his friends. Her parents felt she was safe with Bastien, which spoke not only to the fact they were in peaceful times but that they had unwavering trust in the young captain.
Thalia chattered on about a new gown she’d had made for the party and the type of cake being baked. Bastien smiled but listened with only half an ear because while he adored Thalia and their friendship, he wasn’t interested in stuff like that. Still, he entertained her need to talk about those things, just as she listened to him talk about training. They had plenty of other things to talk about in between.
“… and they say that Baynor Sorin is going to ask for my hand, but honestly, my parents would never marry me off just to join kingdoms.”
Bastien’s ears perked up, and he glanced at Thalia over Greta’s neck as he put on his bridle. “What did you say about Sorin?”