“Explain what?” I prod, a panicky feeling growing inside me.
“Bastien was against sending you away. He didn’t believe it was safe.”
“I know. But something changed his mind.”
“The Conclave changed his mind,” Kieran says grimly. “Because they found a spell that could protect you completely for as long as it took us to win the war.”
I was well protected. For seven years, I’d lived in peace without so much as a horse wrangler attempting to steal my stock. I’d gleaned enough to know that the ring on my finger had something to do with the protection, and I’ve since learned that Maddox took it from me to precipitate my return to Vyronas.
Kieran steps closer. “In order to give you the protection you needed, Bastien had to sacrifice his love for you. It was taken from him via magic and put inside you. The ring was added protection, but it was his love that has kept you safe.”
“And left him cold and heartless,” I murmur, reaching the ultimate conclusion of how this story ended for Bastien.
“At least where you’re concerned,” Kieran says and that makes me feel worse.
I suck in a breath through my nose, letting it out slowly. My pulse hammers at the implications. That bright light in his chest—beating in tune to his heart—it left him and slammed into me. It was a gift I could never repay, and yet part of me hates him for doing it. He made the decision without me, and I would’ve much rather stayed here in danger, spending every minute I had left in this world by his side instead of in another dimension without him.
And now… I’ve returned to my lands in grave peril, my citizens being murdered, and the man who I thought was my soul mate no longer that man.
My loss is keen, and it makes my legs tremble with weakness.
“Are you okay?” Kieran asks, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I shake my head, feeling something inside me die. “No. But I’ll have to get over this too, I suppose.”
“Maybe there’s hope—”
“Don’t say that,” I snap, cutting him off before he can complete such a thought. “I only have room to hope for peace in my land. I’m letting this go.”
Kieran’s hand falls away, and he nods sadly. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
We’re silent as we walk the few blocks to Bastien’s house. The sun is fully set, and the lampposts flame with magical light. In a few hours, the pink moon will rise and lend shimmer to the night air.
As we approach the path that leads to the porch, I see a man sitting there. It takes me a few seconds, but recognition dawns.
“Archer!” I break into a run as he pushes himself up from the stoop. He barely makes it down to the sidewalk before I crash into him.
My cousin’s brawny arms come around me, and I let him hold me tight, having the first bit of true comfort and security since my memories returned.
“Missed me, did you, pipsqueak?” he asks, and I laugh into his chest, choking back a sob.
Lifting my head, I peer up at him. Archer is tall, like all the Clairmonts, and has his mother’s blond hair and brown eyes. Same as my father’s. “You’re here,” I say with a quavering voice.
“Kieran sent word,” he replies, putting his hands to my shoulders and pushing me back slightly so he can get a gander at me. “You seem well. A bit more tanned than I remember, and still with that sassy gleam in your eye.”
Laughing, I grab his arm and tuck mine through his bent elbow. “Come inside and let’s have tea. I’ll tell you all about my adventures.”
We turn for the porch, and I glance back at Kieran, feeling the need to invite him as well. Except he’s gone, and while I adore Kieran, I’m glad to have time alone with Archer. He’s my only family now and the closest thing I have left of my parents.
We enter the cottage, and I can tell by the stillness that Bastien isn’t here. Searching the cupboards, I find a tin of Bastien’s preferred tea. I also find a loaf of fresh-baked sourdough and in the icebox, some cheese.
“I don’t have anything else to offer,” I say as I set the food on the table with plates. “The Conclave fed me a bit ago.”
“It’s good,” Archer says, digging in while I stand near the stove and wait for the water to heat. I could help it along with a little punch, but I’ve never been one to rely on magics to cure impatience.
I take the opportunity to study Archer. He’s aged some over the years. I haven’t seen him in probably close to nine years as he lived in the city of Malmune with his mother, my father’s sister. They traveled around Vyronas a lot and even into the First Dimension, but they’d visit Kestevayne several times a year. He’s older than me by five years, which makes him only thirty-two, but he’s got gray in his short beard and lines around his eyes.