Gasps echo around the table, and I even hear one of the members blurt out, “She can’t do that. We need him.”
But I maintain my steely regard aimed at Bastien, even though it’s a bit disconcerting that his expression never changes. Nor does his body position. I thought I would feel immense satisfaction at the end of my speech, but I’m not getting the thrilling rush I expected as he stares back dispassionately.
If anything, my decision now isn’t setting so well with my conscience as I take in the discontent this has caused among the Conclave. While I have every right to relieve him of his duties, I failed to remember he’s been leading this war since I left, and they—and the citizens—trust him with their lives.
But it’s too late to take it back. I certainly can’t be seen as wishy-washy with the Conclave. Besides, there’s simply no way I’ll be able to believe in him again and moreover, I can’t bear his cold indifference. It hurts too much, and I need a bit of self-preservation if I’m to be strong for my people.
The hall quiets, and several seconds of heavy silence hangs in the air. Then Bastien casually pushes out his chair and rises. My spine stiffens, ready to stare him down until he leaves.
He starts down the side of the table that borders the dais steps—I assume to make his exit—but he continues marching toward me.
“I beg everyone’s pardon,” he says as he takes me by the arm. “If you’ll excuse us for just a minute, we’ll be right back.”
And with that, Bastien forcefully drags me from the dais and down the aisle toward the doors. I’m too astonished to put up a fight as he pulls me along, but about three paces from the exit, my senses return and I yank against him. Trying to dig in, I do nothing more than slide as my boots skid across the slick, wooden floor.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I hiss.
Bastien doesn’t reply—he just ushers me right out the door. Once we’re out of sight of the Conclave, I really put up a fight, tugging hard in an attempt to free my arm. I’m no more than a nuisance to him, and Bastien never misses a step. He spins, bends, and puts his shoulder to my stomach, easily hauling me over his shoulder. I grunt as it knocks the air out of me.
Bastien eats up the ground with his long legs, heading away from Conclave Hall while I pound on his back and yell at him to put me down. Lifting my head, I note several astonished people watching the scene unfold, and I’m mortified.
“Put me down right now, you big oaf,” I demand, keeping my voice low to not draw further attention. “You’re making a scene.”
He ignores me, and I struggle in earnest, believing that crashing to the ground would be far preferable.
Bastien slaps me hard on my butt, and I yelp. “Behave yourself,” he says darkly, and there is promise to do more than a spanking if I don’t yield.
That does nothing but fuel my anger. I pound on his back and flail my legs, hoping to shake myself loose from his grip, but I make no progress. He’s just too strong and big to battle against.
When I pause to peek up again, I realize we have returned to his home. He opens the door with his free hand and strides straight to the bedroom where he throws me down on the bed with excessive force.
I sit up, wheezing until I catch my breath again.
Watching Bastien suspiciously, I wait for him to launch into a tirade. Instead, he calmly moves to the corner and sits in one of the wooden chairs. He leans back casually, stretching his long legs, and I’m struck by how beautiful he is.
Beautiful, but still cold, hard, and unemotional.
“You made quite an impression on the Conclave,” he says neutrally.
I gape at him. That’s all he has to say?
I refuse to be baited, so I keep my mouth shut.
And I wait and wait and wait for him to say something. But he stares with those penetrating eyes that look like icicles, and I feel like they’re stabbing me just as painfully.
Exasperated, I push off the bed. “I don’t know what your game is, Bastien, but you are done here. You are finished. You heard me relieve you of your duties, and there is no way I am going to allow you to remain involved. I don’t trust you anymore, so you will only be a hindrance to me.”
“The gods know all of that to be a lie,” Bastien replies smoothly. “You are not doing this for the betterment of your rule, or because you don’t trust me. You’re doing this to punish me for sending you away. If you’re going to be a ruler, at least learn to be honest in your decrees.”