“You were outnumbered four to one,” I point out, squeezing his hand. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
Archer’s face crumbles, and he looks away from me. “We lost men. It’s not fair that I’m here and they’re not.”
“And how exactly is it that you’re here and the other men aren’t?” Bastien asks as he walks up to us. His voice is flat, almost accusing. “How is it that every one of our men died, yet you survived?”
“Bastien,” I exclaim, glaring at him. “Archer quickly jumped into action to protect me. He’s the one who got me out of there while he went to fight.”
He doesn’t even look at me, instead keeping his eyes pinned on my cousin. “I still would like my question answered.”
“I don’t know why,” Archer admits dully. “I got knocked from my horse. They must have assumed I was dead when they left.”
“And where exactly did they go?” Bastien presses. “Because we only found four men with Thalia.”
Archer lifts his chin. “If I knew the answer to that, you’d be the first to have it. I’m guessing they rode off to rendezvous with the others. Perhaps they’re still within the cloak. I tried to follow, but I couldn’t find her.”
“Perhaps,” Bastien says, but I can tell by his tone he doesn’t believe it. In fact, I know Bastien well enough to know he’s had soldiers scouring every inch of our protected area to make sure we’re safe again. I would bet my life that he had Scrinia out there last night rebuilding the protections and placing new wards.
Not that I’m confident such reinforcements would keep Ferelith out, given her power, which seems more substantial than we’d thought. Only a direct royal line would have that strength of power, and it would still be difficult. Ferelith is of no known magical line, but she uses blood magic, and therein lies the difference.
“Let’s go,” Bastien says, his hand at my elbow. I have no choice but to release Archer’s hand. I give him an apologetic smile.
“We’ll catch up later today,” I promise him. “Get some rest. I’ll come to you.”
Bastien propels me away, and I jerk my arm from his grasp. “Why were you so rude to Archer?” I demand.
“I never liked the bastard,” he mutters.
I whip around to face him. “Bullshit.”
Bastien’s eyes glitter with malice. “He should have never let you go off alone. He shouldn’t have joined the fight but hightailed it out of there with you. It’s his fault you were kidnapped and no one else’s.”
My mouth drops open, intent on arguing—to protect Archer, who is my family—but it snaps shut just as quickly. I see Bastien’s point.
Still, I lamely point out, “He’s not warrior caste.”
“No, he’s not,” Bastien replies. “And it shows.”
I wince because he’s right. Archer sometimes trains with the soldiers, but fighting is not innate in his blood. Or maybe he just panicked.
Regardless, I won’t blame him the way Bastien is. But I also won’t begrudge Bastien his feelings.
I turn and walk down the main aisle of the hall. The entire Clairmont Conclave is already at the table, and the few who are sitting rise as they see me approach.
“Where’s Kieran?” I ask Bastien as we start up the dais steps.
“I sent him to all the royal houses to let them know what happened and that we’re going to need to march on Kestevayne sooner rather than later.”
That surprises me. “But we’re not ready.”
“We’re going to have to be,” he says as he heads to his end of the table.
Laina Mercea calls the meeting to order, and while most of the Conclave has already heard the story of what happened, Bastien repeats it in detail, leaving out any parts that might embarrass me.
In return, Laina reports that the protection cloak around Clairmont has been resealed and more wards will be added every day.
“And do we know how Ferelith’s men breached our cloak in the first place?” I ask, although I already know the answer.
“We don’t,” Laina admits grimly. “Other than the power she’s harnessing with blood sacrifices seems to grant her limitless ability to defeat our magics.”
As I thought, reaffirming the hopelessness everyone is feeling. But I don’t have a good grasp on blood magic, only that it makes Ferelith incredibly powerful. “I’ve been wondering about these blood oaths she requires. I understand that’s how people swear allegiance to her. Do we know what happens if someone breaks that allegiance?”
Laina responds. “We’ve had some firsthand accounts from witnesses, but it seems when a blood oath is broken, the one breaking the allegiance dies.”
“That sounds too simple,” I muse.
“It is too simple,” Laina agrees. “Our hypothesis is that when the person dies, she absorbs their magic and their energy.”
“So Ferelith wins either way. She has a loyal subject willing to do her bidding, or she becomes stronger at their death.”