Bastien couldn’t stand the prince, who was the same age as him. While a royal, Sorin still received military training and did so under Bastien’s father, Graeme Dunne. So he knew the man well and found him pompous and self-centered.
“Honestly…” Thalia sighed as she moved from behind her own mare and faced Bastien. “Don’t you ever listen to me? I said I was excited he’s coming to my party. And I have it on good authority that he might ask for my hand in marriage.”
Marriage? Was she kidding? She was just turning eighteen. Bastien scoffed. “You’re way too young to be thinking of marriage.”
She beamed. “I know that, dummy. It doesn’t mean I can’t have fun in the meantime.” Thalia waggled her eyebrows as she laughed.
Bastien sighed. She was such an imp, and gods help the man who finally wed her. He’d have to be on his toes constantly.
Bastien and Thalia rode out past the city walls, turning east to ride along the coastal cliffs. They chatted about topics that mutually interested them, such as politics and history. Bastien, having recently been promoted, explained his new duties and that he’d be leading an entire regiment for House Clairmont. Thalia filled Bastien in on some new healing spells she’d created.
The twosome were relaxed and happy. Their time together had always been so easy.
Until it wasn’t.
“Bastien,” Thalia said as their horses plodded side by side. The Marionov Sea sparkled from the rose gilded sun shining down, and seagulls cried in the distance. “Would you teach me how to kiss?”
Bastien was so stunned, he jerked too hard on the reins and Greta reared as he sputtered. “What? No! Kiss you? Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” Thalia asked petulantly. “You’re my best friend. And,” she added slyly, “I’ve seen you kissing Petra, so I know you’re good at it.”
Bastien gaped at her, horrified she’d spied him kissing another woman. He was, however, grateful that was all she’d spied, for at age twenty-three, he did far more than just kiss women these days.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Thalia grinned.
Bastien remained mute.
“The cat must have it,” she muttered with an exaggerated pout. “Because I clearly won’t be having it today.”
A belly laugh over her own joke exploded from her, but Bastien could do nothing but stare agog. Also, it didn’t help that her bottom lip sticking out like that did nothing but make him want to kiss her.
He pushed past his bewilderment. “What has gotten into you?”
“Oh, quit being so stuffy. I’m just having a little fun. Although, if you’re willing to teach me, I wouldn’t mind learning how to kiss. I want to be ready, you know, for when Baynor arrives.”
The thought of Thalia kissing Baynor Sorin frothed Bastien’s blood like lava about to erupt from a volcano. It didn’t seem to matter to his brain that he had been doing his own kissing—and other things—with other women. He simply didn’t want Thalia kissing another man. He understood it was a double standard, but he couldn’t help how he felt.
Baynor wasn’t good enough for Thalia. No one was, really.
“Okay, I give up trying to get a rise out of you. You look like someone just rubbed dung under your nose. How about a race instead? To that copse of trees over there.”
Bastien glanced in that direction, grateful the subject of kissing had come to an end. “That’s not a good idea. We’re too close to the cliffs, and the ground is uneven in places.”
“Stuffy, stuffy man,” Thalia taunted in a singsong voice. “Besides, if I win, you have to teach me how to kiss.”
Before he could deny her request for a race, much less a kissing lesson, Thalia kicked her mare in the flanks and took off toward the trees, about a half mile ahead along the cliff line.
Not wanting to race and truly worried about Thalia’s safety, Bastien considered not engaging. But she’d thrown down the gauntlet by wagering a kiss, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to do that.
Essentially, he had to win.
Bastien gave a loud “Yah!” to Greta, who jumped forward into a hard gallop. Thalia had a good head start, but there was no way her little mare could beat Greta. Bastien urged his horse faster, gaining ground, while watching Thalia ahead. Her dark hair streamed behind her, and she laughed as she glanced over her shoulder at him. The sound carried on the breeze, and he couldn’t help but grin back.
Thalia crouched in her saddle, leaning forward over her mare’s neck, giving her every bit of rein so the horse could run free. They ran so close to the cliff’s edge, Bastien could hear the waves crashing against rocks below.
“Get ’em, Greta,” he urged his steed.
The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion.
Thalia approached a small ditch, something her horse should have easily been able to jump. They cleared the ground but on landing, one of the horse’s front legs buckled slightly, causing her to pitch sideways. The horse righted herself, but Thalia wasn’t ready for the change in momentum and flew over the mare’s left shoulder.