The Scholar's Heart (Chronicles of Tournai Book 3)

by Antonia Aquilante

  “If you’re sure, because I really could leave you to it.”

  Etan looked at him, his gaze unfathomable, for a moment. “No, you don’t have to go.”

  “All right.” Tristan knew his smile was almost shy, but he couldn’t help it. “I never asked. Do you often give lectures?”

  Etan shrugged as he finished organizing his papers. “A few times a year recently. I enjoy it.”

  “That’s good. Do you want to teach, not just guest lecture?” It was something else he’d never asked Etan. He’d known Etan enjoyed his time at university before he took up his position in Philip’s government, but it was only recently he was seeing just how much. Had he been that oblivious when he and Etan were getting to know each other, becoming friends? How did he not know these things about Etan already?

  “Maybe I did at one point, before I came up to the palace, but probably not anymore. I like what I do.”

  “That’s good. You need to like what you do.”

  “Do you?” Etan asked. “Like what you do?”

  “I… I do. I don’t know how good I am at it.” He didn’t know that he was good at it at all, not the way his father had been. “But I’m trying my best. Someday I’ll feel as if I might have made my father proud. I hope.”

  Etan’s brow furrowed in concern. “You’re young, and you don’t have the experience your father had after so many years working in and running the company, but he taught you well. You always told me that. You’re still learning, but you have others to help, and I know you, Tristan, you can do this.”

  Others had told him the same, but somehow, hearing it from Etan was different, felt different. But then everything with Etan always had.

  “Thank you, Etan.”

  Etan didn’t look any less concerned. “Is everything all right?”

  “Fine.” Tristan sighed. He missed being able to share his troubles with Etan. “I’m just tired. It’s difficult—running the business without Father, taking his place as head of the family. Fending off Mother’s attempts to marry me off again and her arguments that Bria would be better off with her.”

  “Tristan.”

  “It’s fine, really. I’ll get through to Mother sooner or later, and the rest….”

  “You can do it,” Etan repeated.

  “Thanks.” Tristan flashed Etan a smile. “It’ll be fine. I know. I didn’t come here to whine to you.”

  “I don’t think you’re whining, but what did you come for?”

  “This.” Tristan stepped up to Etan, bringing his body in close to Etan’s, and kissed him.

  After an instant of hesitation Tristan could feel, Etan pulled him in that last little bit so his chest pressed to Etan’s, and kissed him back. Relaxing and sagging into Etan, Tristan wound his arms around Etan’s shoulders and held him there. He let the kiss spin out for long moments, elated when Etan deepened it and pulled him even closer.

  One kiss turned into many and many more until finally Tristan had to pull away to breathe. He rested his forehead against Etan’s as he pulled in gasping breaths, as he caressed Etan’s shoulders, his neck. Letting one palm come to rest on Etan’s cheek, he kissed Etan again, then again. Quicker, lighter kisses, but no less filled with passion.

  “You came here to kiss me?” Etan asked, his breathing ragged as well.

  “I came here hoping to do more than kiss you.” He stole another kiss anyway. “But it’s a good start.”

  “Mmm, I won’t disagree,” Etan said, his voice low and rumbly, almost a purr, and kissed Tristan this time. “What did you have in mind next?”

  “I want you inside me.” The statement came out more breathless than Tristan would have liked, but he couldn’t help it—the kisses were stealing his thoughts and his breath, and even if they weren’t, he and Etan hadn’t yet done what he was proposing. Just suggesting it was enough to steal Tristan’s breath and send a wave of heat through his body.

  Etan groaned and kissed Tristan once more, hard and fast. “I don’t have—”

  Tristan dug in the pocket of his dressing gown and pulled out a small bottle of oil, holding it up to show Etan.

  “Came prepared, did you?”

  “Just hopeful.” He smiled into Etan’s eyes, hoping he hadn’t done something to insult Etan.

  “Let’s go to bed, then.”

  After another long kiss, they separated long enough to shed what clothes they wore, tossing them and leaving them wherever they landed, before coming together again. Tristan stifled a gasp at the first touch of Etan’s bare skin to his own, still not used to the exhilarating feeling, and brought his lips to Etan’s again. He didn’t want to see if Etan was putting walls up between them, didn’t want there to be walls at all, not now. Long moments later, Etan gave Tristan a nudge onto the bed and followed him down, settling his body on top of Tristan’s. Tristan welcomed Etan, wrapping arms and legs around him, enjoying the weight of Etan pressing him into the mattress. Tristan shivered as Etan’s hands moved over him, lighting fires inside him with each touch. He touched too, filling his hands with the feel of Etan’s warm skin, combing his fingers through his soft hair.

  “Are you sure?” Etan asked in a rough whisper.

  “Yes,” Tristan whispered back. “You?”

  Etan looked down at him for a moment that felt far too long for Tristan. “Yes.”

  He looked up into Etan’s eyes as Etan pushed into him, stretching him, filling him. Connecting them. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that connection with Etan—how much he wanted it—until he had it, and he hoped Etan could see how he felt in his eyes, because Tristan didn’t have the words to tell him. But he couldn’t tell if Etan saw it, if Etan felt the same connection he did. He wanted to say something, ask something, but he couldn’t think what, and then Etan bent his head to kiss him as he moved within Tristan, and all the thoughts went out of Tristan’s head. He couldn’t think at all, could only hold on to Etan, wrap himself around him, pour himself into kissing Etan and touching him as they both went up in flames.

  Afterward, they lay tangled together, Etan still half on top of Tristan, but he didn’t want Etan to move. He liked having Etan there, so close to him, Etan’s presence felt as well as known. He ran the fingers of one hand through Etan’s thick hair and decided he had no desire to move for a very long time.

  Etan didn’t seem to have the same feelings. He rolled off Tristan, coming to rest on his back at Tristan’s side. Tristan felt suddenly chilled, despite the temperature in the room being comfortable. He wasn’t ready to let closeness with Etan go, so he rolled as well, following Etan and snuggling up to his side. Etan was still for a moment, then brought his arm up to curve around Tristan’s back.

  “Don’t you have to go?” Etan asked, his voice quiet, his eyes still closed.

  He probably did. He should return to his bedchamber to sleep so Sanna would be able to find him easily if Bria needed him. He hadn’t told her he planned to be in Etan’s bedchamber, not wanting to be indiscreet, but his reticence meant it would be more difficult for her to find him in an emergency.

  But he was also comfortable and warm at Etan’s side. His desire to hold on to the lingering connection with Etan warred with the tug of his responsibilities. He closed his eyes and tried to tell himself that a little longer wouldn’t be a problem. He wasn’t leaving the house; surely Sanna would be able to find him. “Soon. I’m not ready to move yet.”

  He was still curled at Etan’s side when morning light streaming through the wide windows woke them.

  Chapter 12

  TRISTAN RAISED his eyebrows as he approached the lecture hall. He hadn’t anticipated such a crowd. Good thing he’d managed to get to the university early. If he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure there would be a seat left for Etan’s lecture. Technically he wasn’t supposed to attend—he wasn’t a student any longer, nor was he affiliated with the university in any way—but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. His curiosity had been aroused, and now he needed to listen to Etan,
to see what he did in the scholarly part of his life.

  For some reason he couldn’t quite place, he didn’t want Etan to know he planned to attend—he wasn’t even sure he would tell Etan he had attended—so he’d asked Amory when Etan’s lecture was. He thought he’d been fairly casual about asking, but Amory had given him an odd, knowing look. Tristan chose to ignore it since Amory also gave him the information he asked for.

  Tristan did his best to blend into the crowd as he slipped into the lecture hall. He found a seat at the back and settled into it quietly, hoping to avoid notice from Etan or anyone who might eject him from the hall. At least until after Etan’s lecture.

  The hall filled up quickly while Tristan watched. He didn’t see anyone he knew, not surprising since he hadn’t spent much time with the history faculty or students during his time at university, and he’d completed his studies and left school two years ago. His brother’s interests didn’t run to extra history lectures either, so Tristan doubted he would see him here. But plenty of other people, both students and scholars, were interested and filled all of the seats. Others squeezed in, standing against the back wall until someone finally closed the doors. A moment later one of the history deans, whom Tristan vaguely remembered from his time at the university, stepped to the lectern and introduced Etan.

  Polite applause greeted Etan as he walked to the lectern when the dean stepped aside. Etan thanked the dean and launched into his lecture. Tristan had wondered if he’d be bored, despite wanting to see Etan, but he quickly found that to be a baseless worry. Etan was an engaging speaker, his natural charm carrying over into his lecturing style and making history seem like a fantastic tale. Perhaps to Etan it was. Tristan had known Etan possessed a vast knowledge of so many things—just talking with Etan showed him to be brilliant. Etan used to tell Tristan some of what he’d studied or read or thought, and Tristan had always found it interesting. Now he wished Etan had told him more, told him these fascinating stories.

  But what really kept Tristan from boredom was watching Etan. As Etan spoke, he gestured and moved around the stage, his face expressive, everything about him engaging his audience and holding them captivated. Tristan found himself rather distracted at times from the actual lecture—Etan’s confidence, his presence, was something Tristan found very attractive. He shifted in his seat. Perhaps he could convince Etan to come back to this house with him after the lecture, or to find a quiet, secluded spot somewhere in the university.

  He’d planned to invite Etan to lunch, something celebratory, but perhaps something more was in order.

  The applause at the end of the lecture was more than merely polite. Deafening might be a better term for it. After it died down, people around Tristan started getting to their feet and gathering their things, but Tristan stayed seated for a few moments, waiting for some of the crowd to clear. Finally he stood and began to make his way down toward Etan. While most of the audience seemed to be leaving, some were obstructing the aisles while they stood about chatting, and others were making their way in the same direction as Tristan.

  Tristan saw why when he got closer. Etan had a group of people gathered around him who seemed to be waiting to ask him questions. He spoke a few words to the person in front of him then turned to the next as the young man walked away. A tall man with copper-colored skin and dark hair took Etan’s hand in both of his. Tristan stopped abruptly when Etan stepped closer and put his other hand on the man’s shoulder. He couldn’t hear what Etan and the other man were saying to each other over the noise echoing in the hall, but he didn’t like how close they stood to each other.

  He didn’t like it at all.

  Was this why Etan seemed so distant sometimes? Did he have feelings for this man? But if so, why would he have agreed to Tristan’s proposition in the first place, or why wouldn’t he have broken it off already? He began to feel sick, wanted to punch the man who still had his hands on Etan. Etan and this man—this far too handsome man—were still touching each other and still talking in a way that looked too intimate for Tristan’s tastes.

  Tristan shifted his weight from foot to foot, fighting the urge to stride forward and rip them apart. It was probably best for him to just turn around and leave. Pretend he’d never come here, that he’d never seen what he had. Before he did something he would regret.

  Etan turned his head and looked up at that moment, his gaze landing on Tristan. He went blank with surprise for a moment, but then his eyes lit in welcome. He let go of the man Tristan was beginning to hate and stepped away, his movements casual, not at all as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

  “Tristan. What are you doing here?” Etan smiled as he said it and gestured for Tristan to come forward.

  Tristan did so, making his way around the people lingering near Etan, and reached his hand out for Etan’s when he got close. He wanted to hug Etan, would have back when they were close friends. He wasn’t sure he could now, so he settled for squeezing Etan’s hand. “I wanted to see your lecture. I snuck in.”

  Etan laughed, and Tristan thrilled at the sound. “Perhaps I should report you.”

  “Perhaps you—” Tristan broke off when he noticed the other man still hovering behind Etan.

  Etan followed Tristan’s gaze. “Oh, Corentin, I’m sorry. Tristan, this is Corentin. He’s a visiting scholar here at the university. We’ve found we have some academic interests in common.”

  Tristan wondered what that meant as Etan went on to introduce Tristan to Corentin. Corentin turned violet eyes on Tristan, so unexpected. “A pleasure to meet you, Master Tristan.”

  “And you.”

  Corentin turned back to Etan. “I’ll leave you to your friend and your many admirers, but I trust I’ll see you soon.”

  “Of course.” Etan faced Tristan again as Corentin walked away, Tristan resisting the urge to watch him go, just to make sure he left. “So you came to see my lecture.”

  “Yes. You were wonderful.”

  “I didn’t bore you?”

  “Not at all,” Tristan said, his words entirely truthful, but he would have lied if it made Etan keep smiling. “I was going to take you to lunch to celebrate, but it seems you still have many admirers to talk to before you can go.”

  Etan’s smile turned rueful. “I am going to be here for a while, but… maybe later? Dinner?”

  Tristan tried to not show how pleased he was that Etan had made the suggestion, something Etan hadn’t done in a long time, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was. “I’d love it.”

  TRISTAN WATCHED his sister as she held his daughter, cradling the smiling baby and cooing at her. It was frightening how quickly Selene was growing up. Soon she would be marrying and having babies of her own; she already showed interest in that direction. Some of the inclination was certainly his mother’s long influence, but he didn’t see any indication Selene was averse to marriage and children. He had the obligation of making sure she made a good marriage—a happy one too if he had anything to say about it—and the weight of that responsibility added to all the others threatening to bow his shoulders.

  He deliberately pushed it aside and firmed his spine. He would deal with Selene’s potential marriage as it came, the way he dealt with everything else.

  She noticed him then, smiling as he walked into the room. “She’s growing so much, Tristan.”

  “She is.” He stopped at Selene’s side and smiled down at Bria. Her gaze latched on to him, and he didn’t think he imagined that she smiled wider.

  “Mother always said how we grew up so fast,” Selene said, watching the baby again. “I guess I see how that is now.”

  He could too. Bria changed every day. He tried not to think too far ahead—it would only make him anxious, and perhaps a bit sad.

  “It must be so hard for you without Dariela.”

  He looked at her sharply to find Selene looking at him now, her face sad but her gaze oddly intense. He had no idea what she was referring to—so much of his life
was more difficult now, but very little of it related to Dariela’s no longer being with him, sad as that was to admit. “What do you mean?”

  The expression that flashed over her face said she thought he was an idiot, but it faded into puzzlement as he kept staring at her. “Well, having a baby, having Bria, without her here, of course.”

  “It is sad that Dariela never got to meet her daughter, and that Bria will never meet her mother.” And he still blamed his own mother for that, for her decision to dismiss the healer who might have helped Dariela, though he saved a small amount of blame for himself—he had married her in the first place. “I hate that Bria will never get to know her mother.”

  “Oh, well, yes, of course, but I was really thinking about how difficult it has to be to have a baby without a wife to direct her care. To oversee the nursemaid and maids. It’s not something you’re used to, Tristan, not something you should have to do.”

  His heart sank as he listened to his sister, who sounded so much like his mother at the moment. “I manage fine, but thank you for your concern.”

  She sat forward in her chair. “But you shouldn’t have to manage, don’t you see? It isn’t something you should have to do, or that you were ever taught how to do. And it’s only going to get more difficult with a daughter. Girls need mothers to teach them, guide them.”

  Now sparks of anger joined his disappointment, obliterating the little cloud of pleasure he’d been floating on since Etan’s lecture that morning and crashing him down to the ground again. He hadn’t expected this from his sister—his mother, but not his sister. “I assume Mother sent you over here to tell me this.”

  She looked shocked. “Of course not.”

  “Selene. Those words come directly from our mother’s mouth.” He glared at her as he bent and took the baby from her arms, competently, and far more comfortably than he had at first, balancing Bria against his shoulder. “Do not lie to me.”