“No supposing. I’m right.”
Etan laughed. “And so humble. All right, I’ll go with you. What about Flavian?” Fencing wasn’t Flavian’s favorite hobby, but he was reasonably skilled and joined Cathal in his practices sometimes.
Cathal shook his head. “He’s up early this morning. Far too early. Something about catching the right light for a landscape he wants to paint. He left before I came to find you.”
Etan stifled a laugh at Cathal’s grumbling tone and asked innocently, “Couldn’t persuade him to stay in bed?”
“No, I couldn’t.” Cathal probably meant to make the words forbidding, but they only made Etan lose the battle with laughter. “Stop it.”
Etan shook his head, trying to stop, but the laughter felt good. When he was finally down to chuckles, he said, “He’s an artist. Shouldn’t you be used to him running off to paint?”
“He rarely runs from our bed to paint, and if he does, it isn’t at dawn.”
Etan snickered again. Cathal sounded so put out. “I suppose you’ll just have to think of better ways to persuade him to stay in bed, then. Need any advice?”
“No.” Cathal glared at him, almost daring him to laugh again. “Maybe I’ll just tie him to the bed next time.”
“Could work, but I don’t want to hear about it if you do.”
Cathal laughed and shook his head. “I won’t be telling you.”
“Good.” They jogged up the stairs to the terrace together. “Where did he go?”
“Out to the cliffs. We went riding out that way last week, and he saw something he wanted to paint. For some reason known only to him, he chose the day after a very late night to get up at dawn to paint it.”
“He didn’t go alone, did he?”
Cathal shook his head. “He took a couple of guards. He still hates doing it. We haven’t heard any indications that the emperor is going to try to kidnap him again—we can’t even confirm whether the emperor knows he’s here—but it makes me feel better that he not go anywhere so isolated on his own.”
“Of course it does. No one could fault you for that.”
“Have you met Flavian?”
Etan shook his head at Cathal’s sarcastic remark. “I have, which is how I know he understands.”
“I suppose he does.” Cathal smiled, a fond smile that held so much of his love for Flavian. Etan almost hurt looking at it, even though he was happy Cathal had found someone to love that much. There had been a time not so long ago when he hadn’t thought Cathal would or thought he would give up that love for what he considered—what their father considered—his duty. Etan was so happy that Cathal had held on to what he had with Flavian. But he couldn’t help being just a little envious of what they had together.
Maybe more than a little.
He’d always dreamed of having someone of his own, someone to love and be loved by. When Philip fell in love with Amory, Etan had been thrilled, and hopeful. When he met Tristan, when he got to know him, he’d thought maybe Tristan might be that person. Now he wondered if someone existed for him.
He needed a moment to himself. Just a moment to put aside the feelings creeping up on him, feelings he didn’t need anyone, even Cathal, Philip, and Amory, to see.
“I’ll change and meet you there,” he said to Cathal as they walked inside the palace.
“All right.” Cathal looked at him for a moment. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll see you at the practice court.”
Cathal nodded. “If you’re sure.”
“I’ll join you shortly.”
Etan had taken a few steps away when Cathal called him back. “Etan?”
“Yes?”
“If what you did with Tristan… if it makes you happy, even a little, for a little while, you can let yourself enjoy it. Let yourself be happy.”
“And if I end up hurt at the end of it?”
“Maybe you won’t be.” Cathal shook his head when Etan opened his mouth to speak. “I know. You said Tristan doesn’t want anything more than to pass a little time enjoyably. But you said you wouldn’t want to try to build anything with him anyway. So if you know at the beginning what it is, why shouldn’t you allow yourself to enjoy it for however long it lasts?”
A FEW days later, Etan was still turning over Cathal’s words in his mind. On the surface, Cathal’s reasoning made sense, or it certainly would to Cathal who’d had several of the type of affair he was suggesting to Etan. Cathal’s had been with women, but otherwise the idea was the same—Cathal had always been faithful to them when he was involved, but neither he nor his partners had expectations of a future beyond the casual affair. Though to listen to Cathal talk of it now, he hadn’t been averse to falling in love with someone along the way. The romantic part of Etan liked to think he hadn’t because he hadn’t met Flavian yet.
Etan just wasn’t sure he could do what Cathal suggested. It wasn’t him, wasn’t what he did. But he also didn’t know if he was ready to give Tristan up yet.
“Etan!” As if Etan’s thoughts had conjured him, Tristan appeared before him on Jumelle’s main shopping street.
“Good evening, Tristan,” he said. He hadn’t seen or heard from Tristan since he closed the door behind him the night of Etan’s party. Part of him wondered if Tristan was done with him now that they’d been to bed, but the flash in Tristan’s eyes this evening proved that theory wrong.
“I’m happy to run into you.” Tristan smiled as he said it, but something still simmered in his eyes. “What brings you into the city?”
“I spent the afternoon at the university. A visiting scholar from Etelka gave an interesting lecture.” He cut himself off there, because despite his interest in the history of the far northern kingdom and his gladness for the chance to listen and also to speak with the lecturer after, he knew others didn’t share his enthusiasm. He pushed aside the thought that at one point Tristan had listened to him run on about the scholarly topics that interested him, even if Tristan wasn’t knowledgeable or all that interested. Tristan had listened for Etan, but even then Etan hadn’t gone on for too long. “I had some errands after.”
“I’m glad you were able to attend it, then.”
“Me too.” He’d been happy to get away from the palace and his work there for an afternoon. Not to say that he didn’t enjoy that work and didn’t feel gratified at the trust Philip and Amory put in him, but he still enjoyed the change.
“And I’m glad to have seen you.”
“So you said.”
“I suppose I’m just that happy to see you.” Tristan flashed him a flirtatious grin.
Etan laughed and shook his head, but a part of him was a little disconcerted at how easily Tristan slipped back into their old style of banter.
“Are they expecting you back at the palace soon?”
“Not really.” He had no appointments this evening, and no social engagements were scheduled at the palace. Cathal and Flavian were attending the theater later, and Philip and Amory planned a quiet evening in. Etan had turned down an invitation from Cathal to accompany him and Flavian and planned his own quiet evening—dinner in his suite and a book, purely for pleasure—but from Tristan’s expression, Tristan had other ideas for him. “Why do you ask?”
“I thought we might have dinner, just the two of us,” Tristan said, surprising Etan. He’d expected a different kind of invitation, and he hesitated. Tristan continued into the silence. “We haven’t done that in a long time. We could talk. If you like.”
Etan’s surprise didn’t abate. They hadn’t dined alone together in over a year. Even at court functions or more intimate dinners hosted by Philip and Amory, Etan and Tristan were always seated far apart, much different from before Tristan married when they were generally seated near each other at court functions. Etan was not oblivious to the deliberateness of the action to separate them. He didn’t know if Amory or Philip had given the order, but one of them had. And he still wasn’t sure how he felt about it—he could admit t
hat not having to sit near Tristan, and often Tristan’s wife, was the best thing for him, but he didn’t like to think of his family coddling him.
In any case, the only time Tristan and he had shared a meal in close proximity to each other recently was the dinner with Griffen weeks ago. A dinner Etan knew would have been ridiculously awkward if not for Griffen’s presence and easy way with conversation. Etan did his best not to think of what Griffen and Tristan might have done after he left the table.
Uncertainty clouded Tristan’s eyes, and he nibbled his bottom lip. “We don’t have to, if you have something else you need to do.”
“No, I—of course not.” He stumbled over words and wondered why he was trying to reassure Tristan, why that hint of vulnerability tugged at him so much. “Dinner would be good.”
Tristan grinned, a bright smile Etan hadn’t seen in quite a while and that threw him off balance, sending his stomach into one long swoop. He had a feeling dinner was going to be a bad idea.
And it probably was, but at least it wasn’t as awkward as he feared it could be after their last attempt. They went to a different eating house than they had with Griffen, one that Etan and Tristan frequented more than any other when they’d dined together before Tristan married. The food was excellent, the owners never minded if they lingered at a table, and they were unlikely to be bothered by anyone they knew at the small, out-of-the-way place, something they’d sought out on their evenings together. So many evenings together.
He wished they’d gone somewhere else for a meal.
The proprietor greeted them personally and showed them to a table—the one that had become their usual table so long ago. They’d laughed back then that they came too often if they had a usual table. Etan pushed away the pang he felt at the proprietor remembering what table they’d sat at even a year later.
But Tristan laughed, the musical laugh that so often brought a smile to Etan’s face. It did tonight, almost against his will, even as something inside him ached.
“He remembers where we always sat.” Tristan’s blue eyes sparkled, and the ache inside Etan increased.
“Well we were excellent customers.”
“That we were.” Tristan’s grin dimmed just a little. “I wish we hadn’t stopped.”
The words were so low Etan almost didn’t hear them, wasn’t sure he’d heard them correctly. He floundered for a moment, trying to figure out what to say in response, but Tristan perked up again before he could.
“Tell me about the lecture you attended. What was it about?”
Etan needed a second to catch up to the abrupt subject change. “Etelkan history.”
Tristan made a face and a gesture Etan immediately recognized as his indication to tell him more.
“You cannot possibly be interested in the history of Etelka.” He never used to argue with Tristan. He would talk when Tristan asked, even though he knew Tristan couldn’t be particularly interested. He couldn’t do that anymore.
Tristan shrugged. “I don’t know much about it. Other than Tournai’s, I never studied much history.”
“Well, then.”
“So tell me about it. Why did you want to attend this lecture so much? Tell me what you found interesting.”
Etan looked at Tristan dubiously, but talking about the lecture was better than sitting in silence or stumbling over words. “All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you if you’re bored.”
Tristan’s laugh came again even as he rolled his eyes. “Talk, Etan. Tell me.”
Etan shook his head, chuckling without meaning to. But he talked. He told Tristan about the lecture, the speaker, about what interested him. It led them into other topics, their conversation moving and winding around and through various things. They were finished eating by the time Etan realized the conversation had been quite close to one they might have had before. He’d forgotten his hurt and confusion and worry for a little while. The surprise made him go quiet, but Tristan didn’t seem to notice as he sipped the last of his wine.
Tristan looked at Etan over the rim of his goblet. His gaze went hot in the space of an instant, and heat flashed through Etan. He reached for his own wine, swallowing down a gulp. He should leave. Now. But before he could say anything, Tristan set his wine down and leaned forward. He laid a hand on the arm Etan had resting on the table, his fingers curving gently but implacably around it, Tristan’s palm burning through his sleeve to the skin beneath. His gaze caught Etan’s, and Etan couldn’t look away from Tristan’s blazing blue eyes.
“We could stay awhile, have another drink, maybe something sweet, or you can come home with me.” One side of Tristan’s lips quirked up, a bit wicked. “We could have the drink after. We didn’t get to do that last time.”
“No, we didn’t.” He was going to refuse. The refusal was on the tip of his tongue, but Cathal’s words were still floating around in his head. Could he enjoy Tristan in bed, maybe even enjoy Tristan’s company, for a little while, as long as he kept in mind that anything with Tristan was temporary? “But we can try to get to that drink tonight.”
Tristan’s smile bloomed again. He slid his hand along Etan’s arm to twine his fingers with Etan’s. “Let’s go, then.”
They paid their bill quickly and hurried out into the spring evening. They didn’t hold hands; Etan didn’t know if Tristan wanted to, but it wasn’t a gesture Etan could let himself have with Tristan. Not now, not when he needed to keep himself apart, keep himself from feeling more for Tristan than he should. Hand-holding was too intimate, which seemed odd with what they’d done before and were about to do again, but hand-holding was intimate in a different way. A different kind of connection.
Tristan walked close beside him, his shoulder sometimes brushing Etan’s as they moved, something else that used to happen between them before. Etan tried to ignore the shivers the little touches provoked, both at the touches themselves and at the memories. They weren’t talking, and Etan couldn’t think of anything to say to start a conversation, not when he knew what they were walking toward. He turned his attention to their surroundings instead.
The streetlights were lit, dispelling the shadows as they walked from the eating house through streets gradually becoming less crowded as they moved from entertainment district to residential. The walk to Tristan’s quiet street didn’t take them long. A good thing, as Etan didn’t want to think too much about what he was doing.
Tristan trotted up the front steps and unlocked the door. Etan followed more slowly and closed the door behind him. Tristan turned to him once they were inside, his expression turning apologetic. “I have to look in on Bria first.”
“Of course.” Checking on his daughter would never be something Tristan had to apologize for, not to Etan.
Tristan smiled. “Do you want to get that drink while I do? Or just come upstairs with me?”
“I’ll come up.” Left on his own, he might decide it best for him to leave after all.
“Come on, then.” Tristan led him up the stairs and down the corridor. Tristan’s dog sprawled on the floor in front of a door Etan believed led to the nursery, if his memory from his one visit was correct. He thought the dog was asleep, and was grateful for it, but Indigo lifted his head as they came closer. And growled.
Tristan shook his head. “Well, at least he isn’t barking, though I’ve never understood why he doesn’t like you.”
Etan had a guess, but it wasn’t anything he could tell Tristan. Dogs didn’t often care for cats, and somehow that fact translated to dogs not caring for people whose Talent allowed them to change into large cats. Which was why there were no dogs in the palace.
Tristan crouched to calm the dog. “Hush, quiet now. Don’t growl, silly dog. That’s just Etan. You know Etan. He isn’t going to hurt you or Bria.”
Etan frowned. “Why would I hurt Bria?”
“You wouldn’t, but Indigo seems to have appointed himself her protector. He’d be in the nursery if we’d let him, but Bria’s nursemaid would pre
fer he not spend his nights inside. He won’t move from the door, though.”
He shook his head in amazement and laughed. Tristan continued soothing the dog, who finally calmed down once Tristan told him not to wake Bria with his carrying on. Could the dog really understand when Tristan told him not to wake the baby? Etan couldn’t quite believe it.
Tristan finally rose and stepped around Indigo to open the nursery door. After one last look at Etan—could dogs glare?—the dog trotted into the room at Tristan’s heels. Etan stepped forward, hovering in the doorway as Tristan went to the crib and leaned over his sleeping daughter. Etan couldn’t see the baby from where he stood, but he could see Tristan, and the expression on Tristan’s face, his naked adoration of the baby in the crib, was plain to see. Etan shifted his weight from foot to foot. Perhaps he should have stayed downstairs.
Tristan looked up and smiled at him, the softness in his eyes from looking at his daughter still there as he gazed at Etan. “You can come in for a moment if you like. Or just go to my bedroom. You don’t have to come in—I’ve turned into one of those parents who likes showing his child off.”
Etan couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips at Tristan’s words. He stepped quietly into the nursery, walking well away from the dog, who though he wasn’t growling any longer, still watched Etan far too closely. Etan stopped next to Tristan and looked down at the baby in the crib. She was sleeping peacefully, something Etan didn’t want to change. He’d learned quickly that babies woken up were seldom pleased. She’d grown quite a bit in the months since Etan had seen her the one time, and also had more blond hair on her head—he wondered if it would brighten to the gold shade of Tristan’s hair.
“She’s beautiful, Tristan,” Etan whispered.
“Thank you.” Tristan stared at his daughter for another moment, so many different feelings flooding and swirling through his eyes that Etan couldn’t separate them all out. He wanted to, wanted to be able to help Tristan, to make the less positive feelings go away. He forced those thoughts back. It wasn’t his place anymore. Maybe it never had been.
The Scholar's Heart (Chronicles of Tournai Book 3) Page 16