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

by Antonia Aquilante

  “You wouldn’t do something like that.” Amory heard the passion in his voice, pushing out the hurt for Philip.

  “Loriot and Marcus have to be logical. The most logical reason to assassinate a prince is for the throne, I would think, either to take it themselves or to try to control it through the heir. I assume Loriot and Marcus will comb through the succession and look at all of us.”

  Amory let out a sigh. “I don’t like it, but I understand it.”

  “I don’t much like it either. I don’t like the thought that anyone in my family might have done this.”

  No, Amory didn’t care for that part either. But he also was well aware that family didn’t always behave as they should. Even if he did hate to think of them killing each other for a throne.

  “It doesn’t make sense anyway,” Philip continued. “Because no one tried to kill me, or Elodie. And we stood in their way to the throne. None of this makes sense.”

  Amory was just as happy not to think of anyone trying to kill Philip ever, but he understood Philip’s confusion. “You think it’s a hoax of some kind. But why?”

  “I have no idea. Sending an anonymous note to Bastien makes no sense.”

  Amory bit his lip. “There’s something we don’t know here. A lot we don’t know.”

  Philip nodded against his chest. “Yes. We’re missing quite a bit of information. I’m going to have to think back, try to remember more details about what happened. I was trying to hold on and do what was needed for Tournai and Elodie. Some of the day-to-day details aren’t too clear.”

  “I hate to think of you having to relive it all.” Hate was a pale word for what he felt when he thought of the pain it would bring Philip.

  “It’s necessary. All of us are going to have to dredge up memories of a painful time.”

  “I still hate it.” He pulled Philip closer.

  “I know you do. I’m not looking forward to it either.”

  Amory sighed. “Loriot and Marcus will find out what happened.”

  “Yes.”

  The silence spun out between them, wrapping them together in their own little world—a comfortable quiet Amory had come to love in their time together.

  “I’m here, you know. Whatever happens, whatever Loriot and Marcus find. I’m here with you,” Amory said finally, his voice low and quiet.

  “You always are.” Philip pushed himself up on an elbow and put a hand to Amory’s cheek. “I love you so much.”

  Amory leaned forward and kissed Philip. “I love you too.”

  “We should get up.” Philip’s voice was resigned. Stronger than it had been but still far too upset for Amory’s liking.

  He pulled Philip back to him when he began to move. “Not yet.”

  “I have to tell Elodie, and we have obligations,” Philip said, but he made no other move to rise.

  “We do, but we have a little time.” Amory held on tighter. “Just stay here for a little longer, and then we’ll tell her together.”

  Philip sighed. “All right. A little longer.”

  Chapter Five

  CORENTIN STRODE TOWARD the university library, hood pulled up against the infernal rain. It was a miserable day, and if he hadn’t forgotten a book in his office and had to tramp across the university grounds to retrieve it, he’d still be ensconced in a cozy room in the library. By this time of year, they’d probably had snow back home, and he preferred the crisp, clean cold of the fresh snow to the raw chill of the rain here in Tournai. He hadn’t spent a winter in Tournai yet, but he’d been told snow was rare if not nonexistent. He’d thought it might be a pleasant change, but that was before he’d been forced to move about in this miserable autumn rain. He’d take the snow any day.

  He still hadn’t decided whether he should abandon Tournai and return home. The rain seemed another excellent, if trivial, reason to leave. He couldn’t help hesitating, though. Nothing had happened since Savarin had found out his secret—Corentin had even attended the wedding of a member of the royal family, and still, nothing had happened. What was Savarin playing at?

  And why couldn’t Corentin decide if leaving was the way to end the whole problem? He wasn’t generally indecisive, and the uncharacteristic inaction left him frustrated with himself.

  Wrapped up in his thoughts and hunched against the rain, he didn’t see the other person striding for the library doors until they collided. Grunting on impact, Corentin reached out a hand to steady the other person, and himself, and found them doing the same. They clasped forearms, and Corentin looked up to find himself confronted by Bastien, bronze hair wet from the rain, eyes widening slightly when he saw Corentin. He wasn’t certain why, but he liked the reaction.

  “Master Corentin.” The words came out on a bit of a gasp, and a frown flirted with the edges of Bastien’s lips. “My apologies. I didn’t see you.”

  He watched Bastien’s lips move, the almost frown, the way they shaped the precise words. He’d wanted to kiss those lips almost from the first moment he’d seen Bastien, though he couldn’t articulate why. The gentle kiss they’d shared at the wedding had been like lightning through Corentin’s veins. He wanted more. He was crazy for wanting more with this man.

  He didn’t want to acknowledge that part of the allure of prolonging his stay in Jumelle was this man.

  “I apologize as well. I didn’t see you either.”

  Bastien’s expression had gone quizzical. “You’re staring. What are you thinking about?”

  A dangerous question, but Corentin decided to answer honestly and see what Bastien did. “Kissing you in the rain.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You asked what I was thinking about. I was thinking about kissing you in the rain. Or anywhere. I’m not enjoying this rain, and I’d rather not be out in it for much longer, but it might be worth it to kiss you.” His fingers itched to reach out, to drift over Bastien’s cheek, to curve around his neck and tug him closer.

  Bastien’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He stared at Corentin for a long moment, and Corentin could see temptation in Bastien’s eyes, but he also noted the strain and the weariness, something completely different from the tension in Bastien at the wedding. Something more. Before he could say anything, Bastien cleared his throat.

  “I’m not fond of the rain myself. Let’s get out of it.”

  Bastien turned and pulled the heavy carved wood door open and ducked inside. Corentin caught the door and followed him, intent on not losing him again. But Bastien had stopped at the cloakroom to divest himself of his wet outer garments and hand them over to the servant on duty there. Corentin hastened to do the same as the servant handed Bastien a towel to dry his face and hair. The librarians whose domain this was apparently refused to let anyone drip on the books and so kept towels in the entry on rainy days. Seemed sensible to Corentin’s way of thinking.

  He accepted his own towel and hurried to dry his face, wanting to keep up with Bastien. But when he handed the towel back to the servant, Bastien was still attempting to dry his thick hair sufficiently to be allowed into the library. The longer it took, the more annoyed he became.

  “Enough,” Bastien finally said, his words loud even for the entry hall of a library. “This is nonsense. I’m not going to stand here drying my hair for the rest of the day.”

  “My lord, I do apologize.” A librarian—who managed to look both conciliatory and scandalized at the same time, quite a feat—appeared at Bastien’s side. “However the library contains many delicate books and papers which can easily be damaged by the wet. I must ask you to refrain from entering the reading rooms and other areas until you have dried off properly. And of course, my lord, you won’t be allowed in all areas of the library since you are not affiliated with the university.”

  Fire snapped in Bastien’s eyes, but he didn’t lose his temper, as Corentin halfway expected him to do. “I don’t need to use the library. I only want to find my brother. Lord Mathis is here somewhere.”

  “Lord Mat
his is in one of the rare-text rooms. I’m afraid I cannot allow you into that area,” the librarian said.

  Corentin was mildly impressed that he remembered the whereabouts of one man in the library. Did he know where everyone went?

  “You’ll have to allow me. I need my brother.”

  Bastien sounded more imperious than Corentin had ever heard him, more than when he’d been trying to dismiss Corentin at the wedding.

  But Corentin didn’t fancy watching him argue with a librarian, even if the imperious tone was oddly attractive. “Perhaps you might send someone for Lord Bastien’s brother?” he asked the librarian before the man could respond to Bastien. “To tell him his brother needs him?”

  Bastien turned to him with an incredulous expression, but before he could say anything, the librarian agreed.

  “Is there a message you would like him to be given, my lord?”

  Bastien frowned. “Just ask him to come down. I need him to return home with me.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The librarian stepped away, presumably to summon someone to retrieve Bastien’s brother, and Bastien turned to Corentin.

  “What are you doing?” Bastien snapped out.

  “I apologize if I overstepped, but it seemed to be a solution that would appease the library staff and get you the result you needed.”

  Bastien deflated slightly as something came into his eyes, something tense and lonely. “I suppose you’re right about that. Thank you for your help.”

  “You’re welcome.” They stared at each other for a moment, and Corentin wondered what Bastien was thinking. “What’s wrong?”

  The question was out before Corentin even realized he was going to ask it, and he regretted it as shutters seemed to slam closed over Bastien’s eyes.

  “Nothing is wrong. Why would you even ask?”

  “Because you’re tense, worried. And you seem almost frantic to find your brother.” Corentin could see it somehow, despite the mask of calm Bastien was trying to wear.

  “I am not frantic.”

  He studied Bastien carefully. “Perhaps frantic is the wrong word. But the rest holds true. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Why?” Bastien blinked, almost flinching. At his own rudeness? He seemed the type to make sure whatever he did was within the bounds of proper behavior, and the ungracious question was not that.

  Corentin waved a hand negligently, hoping to eliminate Bastien’s regret for asking. He almost wished he could wave away the question as well. Because he had no good answer for it, or none that would sound normal. Why did he offer to help? Because something about Bastien fascinated him, and his curiosity drove him to want to know more about him. “Perhaps I like you and want to help if I can.”

  Bastien’s eyebrows shot up. “You can’t like me. You don’t know me.”

  “Not as well as I’d prefer, no, but I’ve begun to.”

  “After a bit of conversation and one kiss? It wasn’t that good.” Bastien clamped his lips shut abruptly, his cheeks flushing red.

  “Well, I’m insulted.” And Corentin put as much insult into the words as he could. “I enjoyed both the kiss and the conversation. I’ve been hoping for more of each.”

  “Then you’re going to be disappointed.”

  “I hope not.” Corentin shouldn’t be encouraging anything between himself and Bastien. And yet.

  He took a step nearer to Bastien, closer than was strictly polite to stand but not quite close enough to kiss, and watched Bastien’s eyes widen. “I want to know you, to see if this feeling of like I have for you is justified. I want to kiss you because I’m very attracted to you, and I’d like to see what happens when I put my lips on yours again, longer and deeper this time. I’m very much hoping you’re feeling the same thing.”

  “I think you might be mad.”

  “Why? Because I’m attracted to you? I can’t believe I’m the only one who’s ever been.”

  Bastien rolled his eyes. “I have commitments—to my family, to our holdings. I don’t have time for anything more.”

  “That didn’t answer my question. Any of my questions, actually.”

  “I thought it answered everything I needed to answer quite adequately.”

  Corentin smiled at the tone of Bastien’s voice but sobered quickly. “It didn’t tell me what’s wrong.”

  Bastien’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a private family matter.”

  Corentin couldn’t argue with that as he had plenty of his own secrets that could be termed such. But it didn’t stop him from wanting to help. He lowered his voice. “I hope you’ll contact me if I can aid you in any way. And I hope you’ll consider seeing me again soon.”

  Did Bastien shiver? Corentin rather wanted that to be true, and for it not to be a result of his damp clothing.

  “I—”

  “Bastien, I’m here as requested.” The voice interrupted whatever Bastien was about to say, and he stepped back from Corentin hastily. Corentin had the irrational urge to swat the interruption away even as it continued. “I was working. I know you think I’m hiding away out of avoidance of whatever you think I’m avoiding, but my studies are important. What is it you need me for?”

  Corentin turned to face Bastien’s brother, the one who little resembled Bastien, and found him with an impatient frown on his face.

  “I’m aware that your studies are important, Mathis, but your family is important too,” Bastien said. “There is a family matter I need you for.”

  “Is everyone all right?” Mathis asked, the frown deepening.

  “Yes, everyone is fine.”

  “Then can this wait until later? I really do need to finish some work this afternoon.”

  “I understand that, Mathis, but this is urgent. We need to return home now. Get your things, and we’ll go.”

  Corentin wondered about Bastien’s stern tone; it was obvious he was under some sort of strain—something serious had happened, and certainly, Mathis’s grumbling wasn’t making it any easier. But Mathis did accede to Bastien’s wishes and went off to gather his things. Bastien didn’t react…until he realized Corentin was still at his side. He jumped slightly, and a dull flush spread over his cheekbones again.

  “Your brother seems dedicated to his studies,” Corentin said, judging that to be the most polite, most innocuous thing he could say at the moment. Telling Bastien his brother seemed a bit petulant and that he was surprised by Bastien’s harsh tone wouldn’t be right, under the circumstances. Or under any circumstances.

  “He is very serious about them.” Bastien replied in the blandest voice possible.

  Corentin knew it was time for him to go. Bastien was preoccupied with whatever had happened, and he wasn’t willing to allow Corentin to help or even to tell him what was wrong. Since they didn’t know each other beyond a few moments of conversation, he couldn’t blame Bastien for that, but he also didn’t want Bastien to walk away and end Corentin’s chances at seeing him again.

  “I’ll leave you unless you’ve need of me.” He wanted to lean forward and kiss Bastien, regrettably just another light kiss, but they were in the library entrance hall, a fact that had somehow slipped his mind during their conversation. He couldn’t see Bastien happy to be kissed in such a place, especially when there was nothing significant between them. And Corentin would rather not be the subject of university gossip, if they could avoid it after so intimate a conversation in so public a place.

  But he couldn’t let Bastien go without doing something. Something to remind them both. He reached out a hand and laid it on Bastien’s shoulder. Bastien drew in a quick, sharp breath, and Corentin let the corners of his mouth curl a little. He slowly ran his hand down over the firm muscle of Bastien’s arm, skimming it over the fine fabric of his sleeve, feeling Bastien tremble slightly. When his hand reached Bastien’s, he tangled their fingers together.

  He looked into Bastien’s eyes, finding them wide and a little shocked, and perhaps this display was more than he should have done even if it
wasn’t a kiss. Too late to regret it now. “I hope everything turns out well, but do send for me if there’s anything I can do to help. I’ll see you soon.”

  He gave Bastien’s hand a squeeze and then reluctantly—far more reluctantly than he had any reason to be—let go. Bastien’s eyes were still huge, but he said nothing. Corentin nodded and strode away into the library. He ducked into the stairwell and took the steps up at a near jog, his footfalls muffled by the thick runner. He nodded at a few people who passed him on their way down, but he didn’t linger or even take much notice of who they were. Little light came in the large stained glass window on the first landing because of the rain, but the magic of the light globes set in scones along the wood paneled walls provided plenty of illumination and made the paneling and carved bannisters gleam.

  On the third floor, he set off to the right, moving through the larger of the floor’s reading rooms to the desk assigned to him in the back corner. He liked the location. The reading room was charming, with fanciful scenes from myth and legend carved into the paneling and painted on the ceiling in vibrant color, and its proximity to the books he often needed in his work was convenient. And he rather liked the quiet most days. The whole library was hushed, but the third floor had far less bustle than the lower ones. If he really wanted company, he could wander through the library’s wonders on other floors or go out on the university grounds, which were always full of people.

  But today he had work to do, if he could manage to concentrate on it instead of on Bastien and his troubles, or on his own worries. Perhaps it was time he became serious about figuring out solutions. He didn’t want to leave Tournai, not really—despite the cold rain and, yes, partially because he was intrigued by the possibility of what might happen with Bastien. He was tired of worrying over his fate, over what Savarin would do or when he would divulge Corentin’s secret. It was time for him to stop thinking and do something about the situation.

  BASTIEN WAS THOROUGHLY soaked by the time he and Mathis reached home. His hat and coat had done little to protect him from the steadily worsening rain. He was miserable and chilled and had little patience for Mathis who was less than pleased at being pulled from the library and had shown it with his sullen silence on the walk home.