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

by Antonia Aquilante

  Griffen slumped a little in his chair. “So nothing, then.”

  “Nothing yet,” Amory said. “He told us he has some other things he can try. More complicated magic that, as I understand it, could help lead to the sender. He’s not certain they’ll work, but he’s trying.”

  Disappointment settled over Bastien, but he did his best not to let it show, unlike Griffen whose feelings were obvious to all. Bastien too had pinned his hopes on Savarin and his magic finding some answers.

  “What’s to be done next?”

  “We keep on as we are. Master Savarin will continue his work, as will Captain Loriot and Lord Marcus,” Philip said. “They are better than anyone at their jobs, and they know what to do in the case of something like this.”

  Bastien had to accept that, though he wondered if anyone could truly be ready for a situation like this one. Of course Loriot would have to be skilled to have gained his position of head of the royal guard. Savarin’s reputation was well known and, by all accounts, deserved. Bastien knew nothing of Marcus except that Philip trusted him. There was nothing for him to do but wait.

  “You’ll keep me—us—informed?” Bastien changed his words at the last moment when Griffen shifted beside him.

  “I will,” Philip said.

  And Bastien had to accept that too.

  Chapter Eight

  ELODIE SAT ON the pale blue couch in her sitting room, her slender hands clasped in her lap, her knuckles nearly white. Philip doubted anyone else would notice her upset, though. Everything else about her was calm and unruffled. Her dark hair was braided and twisted back from her face and then left to tumble down her back. She was impeccably dressed, as always, with the skirts of her gown—blue silk a shade darker than the couch—spread around her artfully.

  Her expression was smoothed into the mask she wore while dealing with those outside her closest circle, and she was perfectly still. Elodie had always been exuberant and enthusiastic, if a bit volatile—always moving, always talking and laughing. She’d calmed and steadied over these last few years. Philip wasn’t entirely sure he liked how quiet and still she could become. He certainly wasn’t used to it.

  He sat next to her on the couch with Amory in a chair at his side, and Loriot and Marcus seated across from them. Philip had asked them to speak with Elodie in her sitting room, hoping she would be more comfortable there, but the men looked out of place on the dainty, feminine furniture. She had asked him to stay with her; Philip didn’t tell her that he’d had no intention of leaving her to speak with Loriot and Marcus alone.

  Amory hadn’t been invited but had simply accompanied Philip without a word when he left for the meeting. Philip wouldn’t have dreamed of telling him to stay away. Everything about this situation was turning Philip into a mess of emotion he didn’t want to examine too closely, and Amory kept him sane. And Amory had to know that.

  “Thank you for speaking with us today, Your Highness,” Loriot said. Philip wasn’t surprised he was taking the lead in speaking with Elodie, since she knew him. Marcus was skilled in questioning and interrogation, but he was also an excellent observer, picking up details while someone else acted more directly.

  Really, what else could he expect from someone who was, in essence, a spymaster?

  “Of course, Captain,” Elodie said. “Anything I can do to help find out the truth about what happened to my parents and my aunt and uncle.”

  “What do you remember from that day?”

  “Well…” Elodie seemed to flounder for a moment, hands twitching in her lap, or perhaps she was trying to come up with the right words. “Aunt Delphina, Uncle Theon, and our cousins were in Jumelle. Well, Griffen lived here while studying at the university, but everyone else came in from Ardesia, and Father cleared the day as a treat. For everyone, I suppose.”

  She paused, perhaps struck as Philip was that the day’s activities had not been the treat their father hoped for. Amory’s hand settled on his arm, a comforting weight, a reminder of his presence at Philip’s side. Always at Philip’s side. Some tension drained from his body.

  “They decided to go sailing for the day.”

  “Do you remember whose idea it was? The sailing trip,” Loriot prompted when she gave him a questioning look.

  “I don’t, actually.” Elodie turned to Philip. “Do you remember?”

  “No. I remember them talking about going and reminiscing about earlier excursions. They liked to be on the water, all four of them.”

  Amory squeezed his arm, and Philip covered Amory’s hand with his own in gratitude.

  Loriot nodded. “All right. Do you remember when they made the decision? It couldn’t have been spontaneous.”

  No, not at all. When a crown prince planned an outing, it had to be done well in advance to ensure his safety. There were times when Philip would give up on going somewhere, because the debate among his guard gave him headaches. Easier to skip it than put up with the nightmare of logistics.

  Elodie’s brow furrowed. “I remember Mother and Aunt Delphina talking about it. We had lunch the day before, the three of us, Ligeia, Aunt Helena, Ottilie, Isaline, and Meriall. I think they wanted Aunt Helena to join them, but she said Uncle Umber hated sailing. I don’t know when they decided to go.”

  Philip didn’t need Elodie’s glance at him; he’d already begun thinking. “I’m not sure either. Father told me the day before they went, but it couldn’t have been then. It was too soon. As Elodie said, Aunt Delphina, Uncle Theon, and our cousins arrived in Jumelle earlier in the week. So then? Unless they’d spoken of it in correspondence.”

  “Do the guard reports from the investigation say anything about it? I’m assuming not if you’re asking.” Amory broke his silence with a good point. He tended to be quiet in a situation like this, when he’d come only to support Philip, though Philip always wanted his thoughts.

  “They don’t,” Loriot said.

  “Nor do ours,” Marcus put in.

  Of course Marcus would have records as well. He and those he employed would have been involved in the original investigation, even if Philip hadn’t been aware of it. Why he hadn’t been aware of it was different question. One he would ask at a later date.

  “Ask Bastien and his brothers and sister when you speak with them. Perhaps Aunt Delphina or Uncle Theon mentioned something,” Philip said.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Loriot said. “Do you know who might have known about the planned sailing trip beforehand?”

  “Aunt Helena—so Uncle Umber would have too. Our cousins who were in the city,” Elodie said.

  “And anyone they might have told,” Philip added. “It wasn’t a secret by any means. My father spoke of it to me in front of others. I don’t remember who now. The servants would have known, obviously the guard and the naval officers arranging for the boat. My father’s secretary.”

  Phillip could guess what was going through Loriot’s mind because he’d had the same thought—too many people. But Loriot only nodded and turned back to Elodie.

  “Your Highness, can you tell me what happened that day?”

  Elodie clenched her fingers even tighter, and Philip resisted the urge to lay a hand on hers. She never looked away from Loriot. “When we heard about Mother and Father?”

  “Go back to when they left. Who was here?”

  “They all left from the palace. It was just us here, with our cousins. And the guards and servants, of course.” Elodie paused briefly before continuing. “We saw them off, saying good-bye and telling them to enjoy themselves. Then we all went out to the gardens. It was a lovely day, so we decided to spend it outside. The boys were playing tino or practicing archery for the most part, though we all ate together and took a turn or two around the garden.”

  “I think we had to pry Etan away from his book at one point,” Philip said, the memory coming back suddenly though he’d been thinking about that day almost every moment since Bastien had brought the note to him. “We often had to wrestle a book out of Etan
’s hands.”

  “Ligeia and Ottilie were with me all afternoon. Meriall too for part of it, but she liked tagging along after Etan. We mostly walked or drew or painted. Ligeia and Meriall convinced Ottilie to skip rope for a while. We were watching Cathal and Bastien play tino when they came to tell us about Mother and Father.”

  Philip remembered that part perfectly. It was seared into his memory, crystal clear and sharp. The day was warm and beautiful, and Cathal and Bastien had been playing, tossing insults at each other across the net with each hit of the ball. Philip had been laughing; he remembered that—they’d all been laughing. Meriall had been bouncing up and down. What had she been then—ten, eleven? Philip had been more relaxed and happier than in a long time. He’d begun wondering if they could manage something similar more often.

  And then they’d come, royal guardsmen with their second in command, as the captain was away. Something about their expressions, so carefully blank, and the unnameable emotion in their eyes had sobered Philip like a dunking in icy water. He’d known before a word was spoken that something was very wrong. He never expected it to be what it was.

  “Philip made them tell us there. But they took him away right after,” Elodie said with a little catch in her voice. “Everything is a bit jumbled in my mind after that. Cathal, Vrai, and Etan got us all inside. Into one of the parlors in the family wing. Uncle Umber came with Aunt Helena, and Uncle Ormand too. I remember the uncles getting irritated when they weren’t immediately allowed to see Philip.”

  “I can imagine Umber being irritated.” Philip could easily see Umber being far more than irritated. His father’s younger brother was nothing if not controlling. Uncle Ormand seemed less likely to become visibly upset, not that he saw his uncle as often as he did other members of his family. Uncle Ormand came to court functions when he was in residence in Jumelle, most of the time now that he had daughters of marriageable age. “I’m surprised by Uncle Ormand.”

  Elodie shrugged, just barely—more the suggestion of a graceful shrug, really. “They had words with the guards who were with us, and with each other. Cathal, Griffen, and Vrai tried to calm them down and separate them. It didn’t really work until the guards let them see you.”

  “What was everyone else doing?” Loriot asked.

  “Aunt Helena and Ottilie sat with me. I think Bastien was trying to comfort Ligeia and Mathis, though I remember being annoyed because Mathis kept shouting when Ligeia told him it was all right to cry like she was doing. And then Bastien had to shout back, to tell him not to shout at her. Etan was comforting Meriall. He sat with her on his lap.” Elodie’s voice was quiet but steady. She couldn’t like thinking of that day any more than Philip did, perhaps less. She’d been so young.

  “Why did it happen?” Elodie asked suddenly. “Why were they killed? I mean, I’m not stupid. I know they were the rulers. I know that puts them in danger, but why then?”

  Now Philip reached out and took Elodie’s hand, even as Amory’s squeezed his arm.

  “We don’t know yet, Your Highness,” Loriot said, his voice filled with regret. “But we will find out.”

  Elodie nodded. Whether she believed him or not, Philip couldn’t tell. He trusted Loriot and Marcus. If there was something to be found, they would find it.

  “Do you remember anything after that seemed strange, Your Highness?” Loriot asked.

  Elodie tilted her head and looked at him questioningly. “Like what?”

  “Anyone acting oddly or trying to get closer to you or to His Highness in the days following Their Highnesses’ deaths. Or even before it happened,” Loriot clarified.

  “I…” Elodie went quiet for a moment. “I don’t remember anything. I wasn’t allowed at most court events yet. Only a few, and really they were more family events than anything. After, I attended the funeral, of course, but that was all for a while.”

  Elodie had refused to leave her suite for days after their parents’ deaths. She’d attended the funeral events, had been present when courtiers had come to pay their respects, but had always retreated to her rooms, allowing few people near her. Philip had worried for her, and it had broken his heart that he couldn’t be with her all the time. He tried, but Tournai had needed him too, and with his father’s sudden death and his own youth and perceived inexperience, he’d had to take a firm grip on his government.

  Loriot and Marcus ended the interview soon after. Philip asked them to wait outside for him. He wanted to make sure Elodie was all right, but she brushed aside his concern with a smile and a kiss to his cheek. Assuring him she was fine, she disappeared into her bedchamber with Lady Celeste, first among her ladies.

  Philip sighed and looked at Amory. As always, Amory seemed to know what he needed. He rose up on his toes to brush a light kiss over Philip’s lips. “We’ll check on her later. Let her have some time now.”

  “All right.”

  Loriot waited on the other side of the corridor with Marcus. The men were speaking quietly when Philip followed Amory out of Elodie’s suite, but stopped when they approached.

  “Thank you for being gentle with her,” Philip said.

  “Of course, Your Highness,” Loriot said. “I have to ask if you’ve remembered anyone trying to get close afterward.”

  “I told you before—everyone was.” Philip shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about it. My uncles were around a lot, as you’d expect. More Uncle Umber because Uncle Ormand was trying to advise Bastien in the management of their family’s estate. Nothing strikes me as unusual at this point, but I’ll keep thinking.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” Marcus said, and Loriot echoed him.

  “When will you speak to Bastien and his family?” Amory asked.

  “Tomorrow, Your Highness.”

  “Please keep us informed,” Philip said.

  He took Amory’s hand as they walked away. He would wait until they were alone to pull Amory into his arms, to lean on him the way he needed, but he was so grateful he had Amory with him. Remembering those days after the loss of his parents, long before he met Amory, dredged up all sorts of feelings. Grief, yes, but also the memory of profound loneliness and isolation. Of suddenly being crown prince and nothing else.

  But Amory had changed everything. Love swelled inside Philip, a sweet, lovely rush. He’d been so fortunate to find this man.

  CORENTIN WANTED TO see Bastien again. He’d forced himself not to go to Bastien’s house, for fear of scaring the man off. Bastien seemed even more skittish about beginning something with Corentin than Corentin himself was. He did send a short note, telling Bastien he’d had a lovely time at their dinner and expressing his hope of seeing him again soon.

  And he waited.

  He paced around his small sitting room. Certainly his restlessness was not entirely caused by his desire to see Bastien again, though that was part of it. The edginess, the itch under his skin, also stemmed from not having used his Talent in so long. Oh, he used some aspects of it. He lit fires and generated heat all the time. But he hadn’t transformed in far too long, and he wanted to, craved the feeling of flying high on the wind.

  While he was away from home, he had to be careful about where and how often he transformed. No one could see him do so; no one could be allowed to see a dragon in the sky. But he missed it, more than anything about home maybe. There, he could have transformed and flown whenever the urge struck him. Not so in Tournai.

  He stalked to the window and jerked open the curtains. He stared out into the night, the street quiet below. It was late enough that few people were out and about, but not so late for the entertainment districts or even the streets of the university quarter to be completely deserted.

  Thick clouds covered the sky, lingering after the day’s rain and blotting out the stars and the nearly full moon. The city would have been black without the steady glow of the streetlights, and outside its limits and over the water, the dark would be almost absolute.

  Did he dare?

  He c
onsidered the idea for far less time than he should have.

  Before common sense could reassert itself, he was out of his rooms and out of the house on his way to retrieve his horse. Once mounted up, he rode through the city to the closest gate open at this time of night. He’d quickly learned which gates remained open throughout the night and which were closed to those coming in or going out. He never knew when the information might be useful.

  Outside the walls of Jumelle, the world was pitch-black—exactly what he needed to use his Talent but not helpful for traveling. Once he was away from the gleam of the guard’s light at the gate, he used his magic to light the small lantern hanging from his saddle. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him from crashing into a tree or falling off a cliff.

  He’d found the spot not long after arriving in Jumelle. The area was far enough outside the city to avoid notice but not so far that he couldn’t reach it and return easily. It was a sheltered place with trees to hide his horse and a large enough open space at the cliff top for him to change. He dismounted from his horse and placed the small lantern on the ground where it would be visible from the air but hopefully not from the sea. The little wood that ran along the cliff top just back from the edge was enough to shield its light from the road. Corentin could only ever hope that no one came out for a midnight stroll on a dark night. He patted the horse’s neck and moved out into the grassy area closer to the edge of the cliff. Brigand was used to this routine by now and had been bred back at home, so he wouldn’t bolt at the sight of a dragon.

  Closing his eyes, Corentin let out a long, slow breath and smiled as he reached for his magic. The change was immediate and glorious. He grew and changed under the cover of silvery purple light. When he opened his eyes again he looked out on the world from a far different perspective. He stretched his long neck, his back, even his tail, working out all the kinks and relaxing into this body. His wings came last, large and strong and the thing he’d thrilled to when he came into his power years ago.