“I know that look well, human,” Amell said, jolting Bastien out of his remembrance. “It’s the look of a man who has accepted what I’ve said.”
“I accept nothing of what you said,” Bastien replied, eyes locked with the dark king’s.
“You should.” Amell winked. “Because you know I’m right.”
Then the fallen angel disappeared into thin air, and it left Bastien shaken. Not the confrontation but because he had one of Thalia’s fathers wanting him to always be with her, and the other telling him to leave.
The only problem was, he had no clue what was truly right.
CHAPTER 27
Thalia
Bending over the table, I finish my tallies. If there’s one thing I really miss from the First Dimension, it’s having a computer. As it stands, trying to coordinate mass production of magical charms has been more of a headache on the record-keeping end than on the actual learning of shadow magic.
But we’re driving forward hard and fast. The gains we’ve made in the last six days have been boggling, and honestly couldn’t have happened without the entire town pitching in. Not a single pair of hands have been idle, and even the kids sat in groups under shade trees tying clay amulets to leather thongs for soldiers to wear.
A short knock at the door irritates me. I hate being disturbed while trying to manage paperwork. With the coordination of six major royal armies coming together, documentation of what’s needed and what’s been done so far is a full-time job. I’m getting little sleep these days between magical theory with Amell, production of potions, spells, and amulets with Heph, and trying to keep it all organized.
Setting my pencil down, I straighten and wince at the aches in my back from hunching over the table for so long. I make my way to the door, and when I open it, I’m stunned to see Bastien standing there.
I’ve told myself over and over again the last six days that I’ve moved on, that Bastien’s lack of affirmation of even nominal feelings tells me I need to let him go. The fact he chose to stay at Camp Rosethorn rather than here with me—probably only a week before we march off to war—told me he didn’t have what I needed.
And yet as I stare at him now, I can’t help but be weakened by a wave of love so powerful, I want to weep.
But I don’t.
I will stay strong and tough. I will worry about saving my world and not my heart.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, stepping back so he can enter.
“I came to check on you,” he replies, looking around the kitchen and living area. It’s filled with tables covered in bottles, jars, herbs, and scales used during our experimenting. The kitchen table is littered with various journals in which I’ve been documenting our practice. Books I’d requested from the Scrinia are stacked on every available chair.
Bastien moves around the room, scanning the books. He opens a few jars, sniffs. I can tell he has something on his mind, so I let him set the speed for whatever conversation he came here for.
Finally, he turns and gestures with his arms out. “You have a lot going on. Want to fill me in?”
Innocuous enough, I nod toward the table laden with jars of herbs and potions. “After only about a day of teaching me how to tap into the shadow magic, Heph and I were able to create a spell that will allow our army to pass through the barrier Ferelith set over the Rosethorn Mountains. We can bend distance right to the other side.”
“It will cover everyone?” Bastien asks, incredulous.
I point back at the table with the journals and the tally marks I’ve been making. “Each person or animal will need to wear a simple leather thong that we have dipped into a spelled potion. People have been working day and night with massive cauldrons to create the brew. We add my shadow magic and some blood—”
“Your blood?” Bastien asks, though it doesn’t sound accusatory, merely curious.
“Just a few drops in each batch is enough. Heph is overseeing boxing up several hundred pieces for you to take back to Camp Rosethorn when you return. It will be enough for those who will travel with the heavy wagons to start their journey. We figure it will take them at least four days to cross, and the rest of the army and horses can be brought by bending distance.”
“But not everyone has enough magic to bend distance, much less bring their mounts,” he points out.
“Power amulets,” I say, moving to another table. I select one and hand him a small clay oval that we’ve been forming by the dozens. “My blood mixed with shadow magic can give any regular magical, and even those without magic, the ability to bend distance.”