Tristan looked at Etan, smiling, eyes clear again, and seemingly oblivious to Etan’s turmoil. He gestured toward the nursery door, and Etan nodded. He left the room, turning back when he got into the corridor to see Tristan herd the dog out of the room and close the door behind them. He urged the dog to lie down again.
When Tristan noticed Etan watching, he shrugged. “I’ve given up on trying to get him to go anywhere else. When she’s sleeping in that room, he’s guarding the door.”
“He’s a loyal dog.”
Tristan laughed. “He is, but I’d love to know why he always tries to run you off. Do you have problems with any other dogs?”
The words were teasing, tossed over his shoulder as Tristan continued down the corridor. Etan followed. “I don’t know. We’ve never had dogs.”
“Really?” Tristan glanced over his shoulder, surprise plain on his face. “I know your cousin doesn’t keep dogs at the palace, but I would’ve thought your family would have them somewhere. For hunting if nothing else.”
“No, we’ve never kept dogs,” Etan said mildly. He couldn’t explain more without giving away secrets he couldn’t divulge, but Tristan seemed to accept the answer. Perhaps as a quirk of the royal family. He didn’t know how big a quirk it was.
Tristan stopped in front of another door and, with a glance at Etan, opened the door and let him in. The bedchamber was Tristan’s, no doubt about that—it even smelled like Tristan, like the scent he wore over the unique scent of his skin. The furniture was made of dark wood with intricate carvings on bedposts and chair legs. The wood paneling on the walls was a slightly lighter shade of wood, and the work on it just as expert. As were the carvings on the mantel over the fireplace.
Etan’s first thought was that he wasn’t sure it fit Tristan, who’d always seemed lighter, brighter to him.
His second was that he was glad to see no reminders of Tristan’s wife.
He shouldn’t have thought it—felt guilty thinking it since the poor woman, Bria’s mother, was dead—but he had nonetheless. And he was glad. He wasn’t sure he could be with Tristan here if there were hints of Tristan’s wife in the room. Of course he didn’t even know if Dariela had shared the bedchamber with Tristan. So many upper-class married couples didn’t share bedchambers, it was almost more surprising when they did.
Etan was surprised from his musings by Tristan’s arms winding around him and Tristan’s body pressing up against his side. “Are you still with me?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Seemed like you went away somewhere for a moment. I thought I might have lost you.”
Something about the wording hurt, but he pushed it aside as he had so many feelings that night. He turned in Tristan’s arms. “Not at all. I’m right here.”
“Good.” Tristan leaned in and kissed Etan, long and slow and deep. Etan brought his arms up around Tristan’s shoulders and made himself stop thinking and sink into Tristan’s kiss. Some anyway, but not so far that he could be swept away in Tristan.
Chapter 10
MUCH LATER Tristan was roused from a half doze when Etan moved beside him in the bed. They’d pleasured each other with hands and mouths, and Tristan was considering if he had the energy to go downstairs and retrieve the promised drinks for them. And considering if after that, he could tempt Etan into something more before they both had to collapse into sleep. He was busy contemplating what that could be when Etan moved again.
He turned his head to look as Etan sat and slid to the edge of the bed. “Where are you going?”
Etan looked at him over his shoulder. “I have to go. I have early meetings up at the palace.”
“Oh.” The disappointment was unexpected. He never spent the whole night with anyone, and he’d never brought anyone back to the house with him. He shouldn’t have been expecting Etan to stay. Unless he was just disappointed he didn’t have a chance at spending more time with Etan in bed tonight. “Are you sure you can’t stay? Just for a little while longer?”
He tried to imply what they could do with that extra time in his tone, but Etan still shook his head. “Sorry, Tristan.”
Etan didn’t look regretful as he stood and began to gather his scattered clothing, no matter what his words said. His eyes were distant, somehow, and Tristan didn’t like it. Hadn’t liked it earlier when Etan seemed preoccupied, but he just assumed Etan was thinking about something at the palace or university and did his best to pull Etan’s attention back to him. But he wondered if he’d been wrong. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes.” Etan pulled up his breeches. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Tristan pushed himself up to sit against the headboard and watched Etan. “I don’t know. You seem a little off.”
Etan tugged his shirt over his head. “Just tired. I probably need to get some sleep.”
“Then why don’t you get back in bed. I’ll let you sleep.” Tristan grinned. “For a while.”
“Early day, remember? Best if I sleep up at the palace.”
“If that’s what’s best for you. I don’t want to make you shirk your responsibilities,” he said slowly as Etan finished dressing.
“Thank you for understanding.”
But he didn’t, not entirely. Or maybe he did, at least a little—he had responsibilities of his own that pulled him from Etan’s bed, even if his were quite different—but for some reason he was still hurt. “I’ll walk you down.”
Etan protested that he didn’t have to, but Tristan waved his objections away. He slid from the bed, all his pleasure-induced lethargy long gone, and plucked up his dressing gown from where it lay over the bench at the foot of the bed. Once he’d pulled on the soft blue material and tied the belt around his waist, he walked with Etan from the bedchamber, along the corridor, and down the stairs. They walked in silence, but Tristan couldn’t quite convince himself that it was to keep from waking Bria, despite how much he wanted to.
At the front door, they stopped and looked at each other. “We still haven’t managed that drink,” Tristan said finally, giving Etan a half smile.
Etan gave him the same back. “I know.”
They stared at each other for a moment longer, and Tristan fought not to shift his feet and fidget. “Next time, then.”
Etan nodded, a quick jerk of his head. “Next time. Good night, Tristan.”
Tristan murmured a good night as Etan disappeared out the front door and strode away along the street, his footsteps echoing in the quiet. Tristan closed the door before he could let himself stand there and watch Etan walk away. He refused to be that pathetic—and he already felt pathetic based solely on the number of times he’d asked Etan to stay and been refused.
He shouldn’t even care. He never stayed the night with anyone, never really wanted to—what he did with other men was about fun and pleasure and relaxation. He didn’t need to sleep beside someone for that. Of course he’d never brought someone home with him either. His trysts always occurred outside his own home, either at the friend’s lodgings or at an inn. He didn’t even know why he’d brought Etan home with him. He could have suggested somewhere else, could have even suggested they go up to the palace. Where he wouldn’t have stayed because he didn’t stay, and because he wouldn’t want to be out all night in case Bria needed him.
He wasn’t just disappointed Etan left; he was hurt. That he shouldn’t be didn’t seem to change his feelings.
As he wandered into the parlor, he tried to figure out where his hurt came from. Etan was supposed to stay, or he was at least supposed to want to stay, and it didn’t seem as if he did, for all his apologies and reasons for leaving. After their dinner and their easy conversation, the first they’d had in a long time, Etan was supposed to want to stay as much as Tristan wanted him to, for more conversation and more pleasurable activities in bed. Maybe that was it, maybe Tristan just wanted their easy, close friendship back. He certainly missed it still, even if he wished he didn’t. Could that be why he proposed this arrangemen
t with Etan in the first place, not only the passion they felt for each other but also the friendship Tristan missed?
Tristan sighed and poured himself a glass of plaire. Standing in the dim room, he stared into the gold liquid for a long moment and finally shook his head. He wasn’t going to stand around and mope, having the drink he and Etan were supposed to have had together. Taking his drink with him, he climbed the stairs with far less enthusiasm than he had earlier in the evening. A quick look into the nursery showed him Bria still asleep in her crib. He crept from the room without touching her. He didn’t want to disturb her, even if he did feel the need for a bit of reassurance and calm that he could find in a cuddle with her.
Back in his bedchamber, he stared at the wreckage of his bed—pillows askew, sheets and blankets twisted and bunched. He sighed and tossed back the plaire in one swallow. Then he placed the glass gently on the table and went to straighten the bed so he could sleep. Or try to, at least.
A WEEK later, Etan was at the university to attend another lecture. He couldn’t help thinking of what had happened the last time he came into the city for a lecture, but as his plans were to return to the palace immediately following this morning’s lecture, he doubted events would repeat themselves. He couldn’t figure out if he was disappointed by that or not. He shouldn’t be.
He hadn’t seen Tristan since leaving his house that night, but they’d been exchanging notes. Nothing serious and hardly any invitations, though Etan had turned down the one Tristan did issue solely because of how busy he was this past week. But he’d answered all the notes, with the memory of a dinner that felt as if they were friends again fresh in his mind. He wondered if they could have that friendship back, wondered if friendship could exist without other feelings between them. Because, looking back, he knew he’d probably started falling for Tristan from the moment they met.
“Well, hello, stranger.”
The voice startled him from his musing, and he turned to smile at Vita, shaking his head at her greeting. “Hello to you too.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You know it’s barely been two weeks since we’ve seen each other. That hardly qualifies me for stranger status.”
“Shows what you know.” Her eyes sparkled as she teased him. “Are you here for the lecture?”
“Yes. You? It isn’t really your area.” The lecturer was a visitor to Tournai and would be speaking about folklore and legend and its relation to Talents, something Etan was interested in but Vita wouldn’t be, as far as he knew.
“No, but it sounds interesting, as does the speaker. Come on. Let’s go in and get seats, and you can tell me what you’ve been doing since I saw you last.” She took his arm and propelled him forward through large wooden doors and into the lecture hall.
“It’s only been a couple of weeks since I last saw you. How much could have changed?” But he didn’t protest as she walked him into the hall.
“Idiot,” she said, not without affection. “Everything can change in an hour. You should know that.”
He supposed he should. “Still.”
They found seats near the aisle about halfway down, which would give them a good vantage point. The lecture hall was one of the largest but also one of the oldest in the university. Some complained about it, but Etan enjoyed the history of the room, from the intricate carvings in the columns to the vivid frescoes on the walls, to the thought of all the knowledge that had been shared here over the years.
“So tell me what you’ve been up to.”
“Nothing special. What would you like to know?”
“Well, you could start with why you left your own birthday party early without a word to anyone.” She tilted her head expectantly.
“Vita.” But he knew she wasn’t going to be put off, and he didn’t have an excuse for his departure. No one had asked him about it, but then the people most likely to—Philip, Amory—probably already knew, or could guess, and Cathal hadn’t had to ask because he’d seen Tristan leaving Etan’s suite. Which Etan hadn’t denied. What would be the point of it?
“Etan,” she said in the same tone, though they both kept their voices low since others were filing into the lecture hall and taking seats around them. The teasing drained away as she watched him, replaced with caring. “Have you found someone? I’d be so happy for you if you did. Of all people, you deserve a love of your own. I know you’ve wanted it for a long time, waited for it.”
He supposed she did. They’d known each other for years, back from the time they were both beginning at the university as students—she one of the few girls, he a few years younger than most beginning students and the son of a duke. Back when he’d studied hard and dreamed of finding a man to love and spend his life with—a life he’d assumed would be spent at the university, something he was working toward even though he knew a fight with his father was on the horizon. A fight with his father over his choice of occupation and one over his choice to spend his life with a man, neither of which was in the old duke’s view of what a member of the royal family should do. So much had changed since their long-ago student days, but Vita knew of his dreams then; he wasn’t sure how much she knew of what happened with Tristan to shatter them.
“I left with Tristan.”
Her eyes widened. “Tristan? Your former friend?”
He nodded.
“I always wondered exactly what happened between you two. Because something had to happen—you were so close, and then you weren’t,” she said, looking as if she was picking her words carefully.
“How do you know we were that close?” Etan didn’t remember Vita ever meeting Tristan before Etan’s party. Which was strange, with all the time Etan spent with Tristan, but his friends from university and his family and friends at the palace had the opportunity to mix only rarely.
She smiled, soft and maybe a bit sad. “You talked about him all the time, and then you stopped and your eyes were so sad. I wanted to ask, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk. I’m still not.”
“And this is hardly the place for this discussion even if I wanted to have it.” He sighed. “Say only that I loved him, and he married someone else.”
“I’m sorry, Etan.” She squeezed his hand briefly and let go. The rumor mill at the university was as quick and vicious as the one among the nobility—and not separate from it. If someone saw them holding hands, a rumor connecting them as more than friends could easily be spread around, and neither of them needed the gossip. “And now?”
“And now I have no idea what I’m doing.”
He was saved from whatever reply she would have made, and the continuation of a discussion he didn’t want to have here and now, by the arrival of the speaker. He and Vita faced forward and watched the man—Master Corentin—follow one of the deans onto the stage. While the dean introduced the lecturer, Etan studied the man. He was tall and powerfully built with dark hair and smooth copper skin. His clothing fit his body well, but it was of a cut and style Etan didn’t recognize.
And when Master Corentin stepped up to the lectern and looked up at the crowd, startlingly violet eyes speared into Etan. His breath caught. He’d never seen eyes that color before, and they seemed to be looking directly at him. The intense violet gaze moved away eventually, but it returned to him throughout the lecture, something Etan had to be imagining. He doubted the man, who didn’t know him at all, would continue to search him out in the large audience. Shaking off the strange feeling, Etan forced himself to focus on the lecture.
And he was happy he did because it turned out to be quite intriguing. As Master Corentin’s smooth, deep voice flowed out over the hushed lecture hall, Etan pulled a small notebook from his pocket and began to take notes. He wasn’t the only one. Other than Master Corentin’s speaking, pencils scratching on paper was the only sound in the hall. At the end, the applause was enthusiastic, and Etan had much to think about.
“That was fascinating,” Vita said when it was over. “I wish I had time to stay and meet him, but I’ll be late i
f I don’t hurry.”
“It was. Perhaps you’ll have another chance to meet him if he stays around for a while.”
“Hopefully.” She rose from her seat, and he did as well. “I’ll see you soon, all right? We can finish our conversation.”
He’d rather forget about it, but that was a mean thought. She was a good friend, and she wasn’t trying to pry but was genuinely concerned. “Maybe.”
Vita smiled, obviously perfectly aware of his reluctance, and bid him farewell. He watched her easily navigate the crowd of scholars and students clogging the aisles. Some were standing around discussing the lecture or socializing, but others, like Etan, were waiting to meet their speaker. Etan doubted he would get his turn to speak to the man quickly, or for long when he did, given the amount of people in the room, but he began making his way down toward the stage anyway.
The dean, standing next to Master Corentin, saw Etan walk up and began trying to move the person speaking to Corentin along. Etan shook his head, attempting to silently get the dean’s attention to let him know it was unnecessary. He could wait a few moments. But the dean either didn’t notice or didn’t heed his signals. Probably the latter. He successfully shooed the student away and directed Master Corentin’s attention to Etan.
“Master Corentin, this is Lord Etan, cousin to the crown prince and frequent lecturer here at the university,” the dean said. He was not the dean of Etan’s own school within the university and had never gotten over that Etan was a member of the royal family, as much as Etan preferred to simply be another scholar while on university grounds.
“A pleasure to meet you, Master Corentin. I found your lecture extremely interesting.”
“And an honor to meet you, my lord.” Master Corentin’s lips curved in a smile, polite but almost… seductive around the edges. His violet eyes were even more vivid up close, and he really was a handsome man. “I’ve read some of your work, and heard more of your studies since I arrived. I find it quite interesting as well.”
The Scholar's Heart (Chronicles of Tournai Book 3) Page 17