The Dragon's Devotion (Chronicles of Tournai Book 5)

by Antonia Aquilante

  “Captain? Marcus?” Philip prompted.

  “There isn’t much here, Your Highness,” Loriot said.

  Cathal held out a hand, and Marcus handed the note to him.

  “Yes. But if there is any chance this is true, we have to know,” Philip said.

  “Of course,” Marcus answered, his expression pensive. “If it is true, Prince Jeton and Princess Franca along with the earl and countess were assassinated. If it isn’t, someone is trying to stir up trouble—which concerns me for different reasons. We have to find out who sent it.”

  “So what do we do?” Cathal looked at Loriot and Marcus, his eyes grim.

  “We investigate the allegations,” Loriot answered. “We need to find out if they could be true first.”

  “Is that possible?” Amory asked, his voice hesitant. He glanced to Philip and back to Loriot. “It’s been years.”

  “It’s not going to be easy.”

  “No, it won’t,” Marcus agreed. “But there are ways.”

  “What I don’t understand is that if it was an assassination, why didn’t anything happen after? Why wasn’t there an attempt to take the throne or to influence Philip when he was newly crowned? Wouldn’t that have been the next step?” Cathal’s questions came sharp and fast.

  “One would think, Your Grace,” Marcus said.

  “Unless they were only trying to destabilize Tournai?” Loriot suggested. “And it didn’t work.”

  “Possibly. Though if they’d gone so far, I wouldn’t have thought they’d stop without achieving their desired outcome.” Marcus looked at Philip who had been silent for some time. “Were there any attempts, Your Highness? Either to get close to you in a way that seemed odd, or attempts on your life afterward?”

  Philip shook his head. “No attempts on my life. No attacks. The guard was vigilant. We all thought they were killed in an accident, but they were still vigilant.”

  Marcus nodded, contemplative. “They would be. The guard investigated the accident.”

  “Yes,” Loriot answered. “I’ll retrieve the records. But there was no evidence that it was anything but an accident. You would have been informed otherwise, Your Highness.”

  “And I wasn’t, not of any suspicions, not of any evidence,” Philip said. “Just that they died while out sailing.”

  “And no one tried to ingratiate themselves with you afterward, Your Highness?” Marcus pressed.

  “Marcus, everyone tried to ingratiate themselves in one way or another.”

  Bastien didn’t think he was the only one who heard the edge in Philip’s voice—or perhaps he was. Perhaps because he understood, just a little, what it was like to be thrust into a role he hadn’t expected or wanted so soon. He wished he’d been there for Philip then—maybe they could have leaned on each other, understood a bit of what the other was going through. But he’d been too wrapped up in his own grief and his need to take responsibility for the family and the estate. He’d needed to do it on his own, but guilt now crept in because he hadn’t even thought of what Philip must have been going through.

  Amory hadn’t let go of Philip’s hand. Maybe Bastien wasn’t the only one to hear the tightness in Philip’s voice.

  “Uncle Umber advised me for a while,” Philip continued with a glance at Cathal. “I valued his advice, but I preferred not to allow anyone to have too much hold over me.”

  The implication of then or now hung in the air. Philip had been very young, barely over the age of majority, when he inherited the throne. With the way he carried himself, the way he ruled—fairly, capably, with all the authority of his title—it was easy to forget he was still young.

  “We’ll need to find out as much as we can about that day and the days that followed from anyone involved or present,” Loriot said. “Their Highnesses left from the palace?”

  “They did. My aunt Delphina and uncle Theon—Bastien’s parents—were visiting Jumelle with their family,” Philip said. “Elodie and I were here. We spent the afternoon together with our cousins.”

  Bastien picked up the story. “My siblings and I were all here. We’d decided to stay behind to spend time with him and Elodie.”

  “And Etan, Vrai, and I were here as well. And two of our sisters,” Cathal added. “Meriall and Ottilie joined us to spend time with Elodie and Ligeia, though I think Meriall followed after Etan for the most part. We were out in the gardens most of the day. Played tino.”

  “They found us out there and told us,” Philip said, his voice flat but steady. Bastien liked to think he could have been as steady, but he wasn’t sure, or he couldn’t have managed it without effort anyway. He didn’t like to think about that day.

  “We’ll have to speak to everyone who was there, Your Highness,” Loriot said.

  “I’d hoped to keep my brothers and sister away from this until we knew,” Bastien said. “Surely there’s no need to put them through the upset of remembering that time.”

  “I’m sorry, Lord Bastien, but one of them might remember something,” Loriot said, not without sympathy. “If your parents and Their Highnesses were murdered, it wasn’t impulsive. There was planning involved, and one of you might have noticed something without realizing it.”

  He didn’t like it, but he understood. “All right, Captain.”

  “We’ll answer any questions you have,” Philip said. “But I ask that you go gently, especially with Elodie, Ligeia, Ottilie, and Meriall. They were very young, and it was an especially difficult day for them.”

  “Of course, Your Highness.”

  After a moment of quiet, Marcus spoke. “Forgive me for pushing, Your Highness, but I have to ask if we’re to have a chance of figuring out the truth behind these allegations. What about on the boat? Who was with Their Highnesses other than the earl and countess?”

  “The crew, made up of sailors and officers from the navy,” Philip answered. “Some guards, of course. I think that was all.” He sent a questioning look at Bastien and Cathal.

  Cathal gazed up at the painted ceiling, but Bastien doubted he was seeing it. “I believe so. There were several guards. I overheard some discussion as to whether they were actually necessary since the crew was made up of naval officers. But it was only Their Highnesses and the earl and countess in the party.”

  Bastien nodded his agreement and said absently, “I almost went with them.”

  “Why didn’t you, Lord Bastien?” Marcus asked.

  “Oh. Griffen convinced me to stay behind. It wasn’t often we were all together with an afternoon to ourselves.” Their commitments had begun to increase in number and duration, and some of them had been attending university. He’d been torn, though. He remembered that because he’d wanted to stay behind and grab onto the carefree days of childhood that were becoming more and more elusive, but he also felt he should go with his parents. His reasoning seemed so childish in retrospect. “It seemed sad to miss it.”

  He didn’t dare consider what they might think of his relief at having chosen not to accompany his parents, his guilt for it. And the added guilt that he’d been enjoying a brilliant afternoon while his parents and aunt and uncle were dying.

  “All right,” Loriot said with a glance at Marcus. “I think that’s enough for now. We’ll have to talk to your siblings, Your Highness, Your Grace, my lord. Soon would be best.”

  “We understand. Give us the day to tell them, and then you can speak to them.”

  Bastien would have preferred Philip not commit them to a timeframe, but it was necessary. Telling his brothers and sister that their parents might have been murdered was not something he looked forward to; nevertheless, he had to do it.

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” Loriot said.

  “I would also like a sorcerer to examine the note,” Marcus said. “I don’t know that there’s anything there, but we might find some clue to the sender’s identity.”

  “If you think it might help, then by all means do so. See if Master Savarin is available.” Philip fixed Loriot a
nd Marcus with a steely stare. “I know I don’t have to tell you how important it is that this remain confidential.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Of course, Your Highness.”

  “Keep us informed of your findings.”

  Loriot and Marcus agreed again and then bowed before leaving the office with the note in their possession.

  And there was more silence, but only for a moment.

  “Do we call Etan back to Jumelle?” Cathal asked.

  “No,” Philip said immediately. “He and Tristan have only taken two weeks away anyway. They aren’t so far that we can’t call for them if it becomes absolutely necessary. For now let them have their trip.”

  Cathal nodded. “All right. Good.”

  “You and Flavian never took a wedding a trip.” Philip’s statement sounded random to Bastien, but Cathal only shrugged.

  “Too much happening at the time.”

  “You should take one, delayed though it would be.”

  “Perhaps. Once this is over.” Cathal raked a hand through his hair. “I need to tell them, so they won’t be surprised when Marcus or Loriot appears.”

  “Vrai is still in town?” Philip asked.

  “Yes. That’s one thing that makes it easier. He’s staying at the house with Mother and the girls. I’ll tell them this afternoon. I’ll have to get them alone without Mother.”

  “We can’t let anyone else know,” Philip said. “Word of what might have happened can’t get out until we’re sure. Maybe not even then.”

  “But tell Flavian, Cathal. You should tell Flavian.” Amory’s words were quiet but firm.

  Philip glanced at his husband and back to Cathal. “Yes, Cathal. Tell Flavian.”

  Gratitude and relief flitted through Cathal’s eyes. He thanked Philip and Amory, while Bastien did his best to crush an odd, sharp pang of jealousy that Cathal had someone to tell, someone he could lean on. Bastien’s eyes strayed to Amory’s hand in Philip’s. He didn’t begrudge his cousin the love and support of his husband. He wished he had that himself, but there was no sense whining about it.

  “I need to return to the house and tell Griffen, Mathis, and Ligeia.” If he could find them all. Both Ligeia and Griffen had said they planned to spend the rainy day home, but Mathis had left before Bastien. He’d have to pry him out of the library most likely. Maybe he stop at the university on the way home and get him.

  “Best not to wait.” The warmth of Amory’s eyes held sympathy for the difficult task ahead of him.

  “I’ll tell Elodie today as well,” Philip said. “It’s best they all know. But make certain they also know not to tell anyone else, not even family.”

  Bastien and Cathal both nodded. Philip was repeating himself, but Bastien couldn’t blame him.

  “Thank you for bringing this to us, Bastien,” Philip said. It was likely a dismissal, but Bastien was reluctant to go, whether because he didn’t want to face what he had to do back at the house or because he felt something else should be happening, he didn’t know.

  “I should have brought it to you immediately.”

  “Don’t worry about that now.”

  “I’ll walk out with you, Bastien.” Cathal straightened from his perch on the edge of the desk. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, Philip?”

  “Of course.”

  Bastien stood and looked at Philip. “You’ll keep me informed?”

  “We will.”

  “I need to be a part of this, Philip,” Bastien said, hoping Philip could read how much. Or maybe not, because he felt close to desperate.

  “I know you do.” Philip’s hazel eyes looked as if they saw more than Bastien wanted them to, but there was nothing he could do about that anymore. He bowed and followed Cathal to the door, concentrating on not dragging his feet. He had to tell his siblings.

  “PHILIP.”

  Amory was relieved when they were finally alone. When Bastien had requested the meeting, Amory couldn’t have imagined he would bring what he did to them today, couldn’t imagine Philip had expected anything like it either. He felt it as a blow to himself when Bastien had said his and Philip’s parents might have been murdered. He knew Philip still mourned his parents—Amory wasn’t sure Philip had ever had time to truly mourn as it was. This new possibility had to dredge up all the grief he’d felt at their premature loss.

  But Philip hadn’t let his anguish show, not so far. Glimpses of strain, yes, but he’d pushed through what had been necessary, answering Loriot and Marcus’s questions, setting them on a course to find the truth. Philip had gripped Amory’s hand as soon as Amory reached out to him, his hold so tight as to be just short of pain, but Amory had welcomed the connection. He’d hoped it had given Philip some comfort.

  Philip turned to him now, and Amory watched the layers of pretense fall away, leaving Philip—his torment, his shock, his grief—exposed for Amory to see.

  “Oh, Philip.”

  He opened his arms, and Philip slumped into them. The angle was awkward with them sitting next to each other and the two chair arms between them, but Amory didn’t want to move. Not when Philip clung to him so tightly, his grip almost desperate. The quiet, stifled sob broke Amory’s heart, but all he could do was hold Philip close as hot tears splashed onto his neck. He wouldn’t offer meaningless words, wouldn’t tell Philip to hush, that everything was all right. Because it wasn’t. It would be, of that Amory was certain, but getting there would take time. So he said the only thing he could.

  “I’m here. I love you, and I’m here.”

  He held Philip while he wept silently for his parents and wondered if Philip ever had before, or had someone to hold him while he did. The thought of Philip, so young and so alone, losing his parents and having to grieve alone was enough to bring tears to Amory’s eyes. He wished he’d known Philip then, wished he could have held him and stood by his side when he’d lost his parents and gained a throne far too young.

  Had they been murdered? Whether or not they had been, he hated what the mere possibility would do—was already doing—to Philip.

  After a while, Philip pulled away just enough to look into Amory’s eyes. His eyes, the fascinating mix of green, amber, and gold, were red-rimmed and still damp. “I’m sorry,” Philip said.

  “Don’t you dare apologize.” Pain twisted inside Amory. He reached out and brushed at Philip’s damp cheek with gentle fingers. “Not ever.”

  Philip’s lips curved slightly—the smile was more than a little sad, but it was there—and he leaned forward, kissing Amory lightly. “Let me splash some water on my face so I look presentable again, and we’ll get back to work.”

  “I don’t think a little water is going to be all you need. Come with me.”

  Amory rose and took Philip’s hand. He’d intended to curl up with Philip on the couch in their sitting room, but at the last minute, kept going into their bedchamber, wanting more privacy, more closeness, for this conversation. Leading Philip to the bed, he nudged him to sit on the edge before kneeling to remove his shoes. When he rose, he toed off his own shoes and got onto the bed. Stretching out, Amory urged Philip to lie down against him.

  “Amory, we can’t. We have—”

  “We have time.” Their next appointment wasn’t until after lunch, and while they had work—they always had work—they could take a little time for each other, for Philip, now when he needed. “We have time, love. Talk to me.”

  A moment passed, and then Philip sighed, relaxing into Amory’s body. “I don’t know what to say. They’ve been gone for years, and I’m not sure why hearing someone might have killed them makes it hurt even worse than it did before.”

  “I don’t know either. But I’m so sorry.” He dropped a kiss onto Philip’s forehead and began combing his fingers through Philip’s dark hair, hoping the gentle petting would soothe.

  “That day was horrible,” Philip said. “All the more so because it started out so well. It was a beautiful day, and we were all toget
her. My parents and Bastien’s left to go sailing, said they’d see us for dinner. But we never saw them again. We were out in the garden, playing, laughing, and then it all ended. They said it was a freak storm that blew up out of nowhere and took the boat. The weatherworkers thought the day would be clear. But suddenly there was a storm, and the boat was lost. We had no idea. There weren’t even clouds here.”

  Amory kept up the gentle motion of his fingers. “No one suspected anything was wrong.”

  “Not that they ever told me. They did investigate. I’m not sure how far they could have gotten—the boat and everyone on it was lost. I don’t know how Loriot and Marcus will investigate after so much time has passed.”

  “If anyone can, they’d be the ones. They’re almost frighteningly capable. And Savarin too, of course.”

  Philip let out a little laugh. “Savarin is just frightening to a lot of people.”

  Amory smiled, pleased to hear the laugh, small as it was. “Now that I’ve seen him with Loriot and his son, it’s more difficult to see him as frightening.”

  “I don’t know if he’ll like that. I think he enjoys being intimidating to some degree.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I should be glad they haven’t turned their suspicions on me,” Philip said after a moment. “But I suppose if I’d orchestrated the…murders, I wouldn’t have brought the possibility of them to Loriot and Savarin. It would have been smarter to make Bastien let it go somehow.”

  Amory froze. “Turn their suspicions on you?”

  “Yes. Think about it, love. Who stood to gain the most with my father’s death?” Philip didn’t move, didn’t sound anything other than matter-of-fact. “I did. If I had died too, then Elodie. Though I never planned on going on the outing. I would have liked to. I used to like sailing, but it wouldn’t have been smart for all of us to go out on the same boat for nothing more than a pleasure outing. And we never expected anything to actually happen.”