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

by Antonia Aquilante

  “I doubt that. I can only imagine everything that you do, and it can’t be easy to do it from far away.”

  It was all flattery, but Bastien couldn’t help the pleased feeling that suffused him at Corentin’s words. “It is easier to keep on top of everything from there, truthfully. But I have to be in Jumelle for a while longer.”

  “I’d love to think it’s me that’s keeping you here, but I can’t believe that’s the truth. That family matter you’ve mentioned?”

  Bastien studied Corentin, but he didn’t seem to be fishing for information—giving Bastien an opportunity to talk if he wanted to, perhaps, but no more than that. “Yes. But you’re making my stay far more pleasant.”

  There was a flash of heat in Corentin’s eyes that mellowed into something warm and infinitely scarier. “I’m glad of that.”

  Corentin’s low tone sent a shiver through Bastien, but he couldn’t let that happen now. “I do miss the horses, though.”

  Corentin laughed, the sound bright and delighted. “Tell me about these horses of yours.”

  “Best horses in Tournai.” Etan’s voice from behind him made Bastien jump. How had he not realized Etan was there? And how much had he heard?

  “Good afternoon, Lord Etan,” Corentin said, and Bastien echoed his greeting.

  “Good afternoon,” Etan said as he rounded the table to stand where they both could see him. “I’m surprised to see you together. I didn’t realize you knew each other.”

  “We met at your wedding,” Bastien said. Etan’s eyes still held curiosity and questions, but he would have to be content with that answer. Bastien wasn’t certain what information to give or that he wanted to give, especially with Corentin sitting in front him. And because Bastien hadn’t yet figured out what was happening himself.

  Corentin watched Bastien too, his violet eyes unreadable. “Would you like to join us, Lord Etan?”

  “Thank you, but I won’t intrude.” Etan’s words were laden with meaning. What did Etan know? Before Bastien could protest that he wouldn’t be intruding—whether that was true or not—Etan continued. “I’m meeting friends myself.”

  “Then I hope you enjoy your lunch. We’ll have to share a meal some other time,” Bastien said. He glanced from Etan to Corentin with a smile. “The three of us, of course.”

  “I’d like that. I don’t get to see you often, Bastien.” Etan’s expression betrayed mild surprise, but then, Bastien supposed he didn’t issue invitations particularly often. “And there are my friends. I’ll leave you to your meal, but it was good to see you. And I’ll hold you to the lunch invitation.”

  “Of course.” Bastien bristled, but he probably deserved the skepticism; he wasn’t social when it wasn’t required of him. He would follow through on this invitation, though. He’d made it himself, and a lunch with Etan and Corentin wouldn’t be a hardship, even if it might be difficult to keep Etan from learning about what was going on between Corentin and him. It seemed he might already have suspicions.

  Etan took his leave of them and crossed the room to join his friends, a man and a woman Bastien recognized from the wedding though he hadn’t been introduced to them, leaving Bastien and Corentin alone again. When he faced Corentin once more, he found him frowning. “Is something wrong?”

  Corentin opened his mouth but said nothing as a servant came to remove their soup bowls and replace them with a plate of roast pheasant and vegetables. They thanked her, and she slipped away silently. Bastien once again turned to Corentin, but he was now focused on his meal. Bastien shook himself internally and turned to his own food. Why was he worried? If Corentin was upset, certainly he would tell Bastien.

  His resolution to leave Corentin alone lasted all of a few moments. There was tension between them now, a bad kind of tension, and he hated it, hated the loss of the ease that had marked their interaction so far. He had that kind of ease with so few people. Was this a pale echo of what Philip had felt, set apart as prince, until he found Amory? Certainly anyone in Philip’s or Bastien’s position, with all that went with it, would feel set apart.

  He didn’t like it.

  But he hadn’t much thought about it before now, accepting the burden he had to bear. He found himself suddenly weary of it, of everything, which was absurd. He’d been raised to do this, and there was no changing it.

  Perhaps he could change whatever had just happened between him and Corentin.

  “Corentin? Is everything all right?”

  Corentin looked back up at him, his violet eyes piercing. For a moment, Bastien didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he spoke. “Do you not want Lord Etan to know about us?”

  Bastien went blank for a moment. “I—what?”

  “I saw the look on your face when he found us. You wondered what he thought, what he assumed, finding us together.” Corentin’s tone was clipped, sharp. “Do you not want him to know? Do you not want anyone to know about us?”

  “Of course not,” Bastien sputtered. “Why would I care if he knows we’re…”

  Corentin raised a single eyebrow. “We’re…?”

  Bastien’s eyes narrowed as he became irritated. “You tell me.”

  Corentin dropped his fork to his plate and sat back. “You want me to tell you what we are to each other?”

  He hesitated. Did he? “Yes. Tell me.”

  “In the middle of the university scholar’s dining hall?”

  “Is the answer going to be something I shouldn’t hear now?” Bastien fired back, his irritation not abating in the face of Corentin’s too-calm demeanor. “That I wouldn’t want to listen to here?”

  “I don’t know. I assumed we were…”

  “What?” Irritation stilled simmered, but Corentin seemed to be floundering and now Bastien really wanted to know what Corentin thought they were to each other. It was unbelievable how important the answer suddenly seemed.

  “I—I want to pull you across the table and kiss you.” The words seemed to burst out of Corentin, intense and harsh though they were spoken quietly, and Bastien sucked in a breath as a shiver raced over his skin.

  He swallowed. “That might be a bit too much here. And messy with the food and everything.”

  The attempt at humor didn’t alleviate the tension as he’d hoped—there was a whole different kind of tension now.

  “Too public for you?” Corentin asked, keeping a close eye on Bastien. “But you don’t care that Etan or someone might find out about us.”

  “I may not care that he knows, but kissing over the table is just not done, not something I can do.”

  “Something else that’s different where I come from.” Corentin continued to watch him, gaze steady. “At home I could pull you across the table, and no one would bat an eye. I could kiss you wherever I want.”

  Bastien fought another shiver. “Really?”

  Corentin’s lips curved. “Perhaps. Would you want me to?”

  He tilted his head as he watched Corentin in turn. “Perhaps.”

  “Come to my rooms tonight,” Corentin said suddenly.

  Bastien’s spine snapped straight at the shock of the words, the command in them. He wanted to agree. “I can’t.”

  Corentin drew back sharply from where he’d leaned toward Bastien. Bastien hadn’t noticed how close they’d been. Surely others had, though he hadn’t paid much attention to anyone else in the room in quite a while.

  He hurried to explain. “I—my siblings and I are having dinner with our uncle and his family tonight. Otherwise, I would say yes. I wish I could say yes.”

  Corentin seemed to be weighing his words. Had Bastien given him reason to doubt in one look, in one shocked reaction? They’d been working their way to this point maybe since the moment they’d met. What would have happened if he’d given in to the attraction between them that night—would they be here now, or would the heat have burned itself out? Perhaps it was best this way, then, because he wouldn’t want to lose the friendship they’d begun, the affection he
felt for Corentin. Wherever it led, wherever it could lead, Bastien was glad to have had it.

  “Tomorrow, then.”

  Bastien started a bit at Corentin’s words. “Yes, tomorrow.”

  He relished the shiver that Corentin’s smile provoked this time.

  Chapter Ten

  BASTIEN WOULD HAVE preferred to skip straight to tomorrow night and Corentin. But if he was going to do that, he might just as well skip dinner and go to Corentin instead, and he couldn’t do that. Whatever he personally wanted, he had family obligations that night. Tomorrow night with Corentin would be his reward. He rather liked the thought of it—liked the delicious anticipation just the thought caused—even if taking any reward for himself seemed wrong somehow for only doing what he was supposed to do.

  Uncle Ormand, his father’s younger brother, owned a house in Jumelle where he and his family spent the majority of the year. The house was larger than Bastien’s and more ostentatious. It wasn’t to Bastien’s taste, but it was obviously to Uncle Ormand and Aunt Evadne’s. They’d all dressed for dinner, not something Bastien and his siblings usually did at home, whether in Jumelle or at Ardesia, but a dinner visit entailed more care.

  Their uncle, aunt, and cousins were waiting for them in the parlor, a large and richly appointed room decorated with velvet and gilt. They had a formal parlor at their own house here in Jumelle, but they seldom used it. Bastien didn’t often entertain, and when he or his siblings did, it was friends and family, and they didn’t use formal rooms then. His parents hadn’t used formal rooms to entertain family either.

  Perhaps that was why Bastien’s shoulders wanted to hunch as he walked into the room, why he felt so out of place. Perhaps he just wasn’t used to it. Uncle Ormand, Aunt Evadne, and his cousins seemed perfectly comfortable. They were all dressed as if they were attending a dinner at the palace instead of in their own home. All three of his cousins were present, the two girls, Patia and Idalia, and the younger boy, Coro. He was only fourteen, but he was dressed as a smaller version of his father. They both wore velvet jackets in rich shades of brown that were at the height of fashion in cut and decoration. As he got closer, Bastien could make out the detailed embroidery at hem and cuffs in what seemed to be a pattern of leaves. His aunt wore a gown of rich gold silk, but Patia and Idalia were the ones who truly stood out. Their gowns were also at the height of fashion, which Bastien only knew after Ligeia’s foray into obtaining a new wardrobe. One wore rust red, the other a deeper burgundy. Their skirts were sweeping and full, the sleeves slightly puffed at the shoulder and narrow through the rest of the arm. Their necklines scooped a bit lower than he would have thought necessary at a family dinner, but again, that was the fashion.

  Bastien was even happier that they’d remembered to dress formally, happier still that Ligeia had that new wardrobe. She wasn’t one to feel inadequate about her appearance, but she hadn’t been faced with the social whirl of Jumelle before. Ligeia looked as lovely as Patia and Idalia in her green gown, which was cut along the same lines as theirs but with lace at the bodice and hem and swirling embroidery all the way up the snug sleeves. He and his brothers had managed to clean up well enough not to embarrass her with their presence. Well, Griffen always looked polished. But Mathis had done well to find a shirt without ink stains on the cuffs. And Bastien didn’t think he had a book on him—he’d have to be careful to make sure Mathis didn’t sneak off to Uncle Ormand’s library.

  They greeted each other, not as effusively as they would have done Philip and Elodie in private gatherings but still warmly, and talked of light subjects—the weather, Mathis’s studies at the university, Coro’s studies with his tutors, various social events, and even the play Bastien had seen with Corentin. Bastien had to shake off memories of that night as soon as the play was mentioned and was thankful that no one said anything about the end because he still didn’t know what happened.

  Dinner was served in the formal dining room with its long table and antique glass chandeliers. He assumed there was a less formal room where the family ate when they didn’t have guests, but he’d never seen it. They processed into the room formally as well. Coro offered Ligeia his arm. She sent a mildly surprised look Bastien’s way but took it, and Bastien remembered she had very little experience with the trappings of formal protocols. Their aunt somehow maneuvered her daughters into position near Bastien and Griffen, and Bastien fought to keep his surprise off his own face. He would have offered one of his cousins his arm anyway, so the deliberate push seemed odd. From the glance Griffen gave him, he thought the same.

  They settled into the dining room, seated around the table at his aunt’s direction. Uncle Ormand took the head, with the rest of them alternating male and female down the table. Wine was poured, and the first course was put in front of them by silent servants who withdrew from the table.

  “How is everything at Ardesia?” Uncle Ormand asked as they ate.

  “Very well,” Bastien answered. His uncle had his own smaller holdings, and though he wasn’t involved in Bastien’s estate, he always took an interest.

  “Good, good. You know I’m always here if you need any advice or help,” Uncle Ormand offered. He always did, and Bastien appreciated it, even though he’d rarely taken his uncle up on his offers.

  “Thank you, Uncle.”

  “You spend so much time there, away from Jumelle and society and your family,” Aunt Evadne said in her fluttery way. “I worry about you all alone there with Ligeia. You need to come to Jumelle more.”

  “My responsibilities are there,” Bastien said simply. He didn’t bother explaining that he liked Ardesia as well.

  Ligeia glanced toward them, away from the conversation she’d been having with Coro. She looked as if she was about to protest their aunt’s words, but Aunt Evadne spoke before she could.

  “Well, you’ll need to spend more time in Jumelle if you plan to get Ligeia married properly. And you’ll need to marry as well, Bastien. You’re the earl.”

  “I have time for that yet.”

  Yes, it was something that needed to be addressed; getting married and providing an heir for the title was something that he had to do. But he had far too much to think about already. The earldom was in no danger—he was young and healthy, and even if something did happen to him, he had two brothers.

  Aunt Evadne laughed gently. “All young men say that, but you can’t put it off forever. You never know what might happen.”

  “None of us do.” Uncle Ormand’s words and significant look caused silence to fall over the table. He didn’t have to mention Theon and Delphina; they all knew he was referring to them.

  “No, we can’t,” Aunt Evadne said after a moment. “And certainly having a wife would make time on Ardesia more pleasant. Company for you, and another woman for Ligeia. Surely Ligeia would like that.”

  Ligeia’s eyes went wide at being thrust into the center of the discussion. “No—I’m fine there. Thank you, Aunt.”

  “Oh, but you’ll be thinking of a husband and a home for yourself soon, as my girls are.” Patia and Idalia giggled quietly and glanced down at their mother’s words. Aunt Evadne smiled. “Always the women, thinking of it. I remember, and my daughters know—I’m sure Ligeia does too. But, Bastien, you really do need to think about it, and you too, Griffen. A future ambassador needs a wife the same as an earl does. An accomplished young lady will help you. Right, Patia, Idalia?”

  The girls smiled and agreed with their mother. Bastien caught a look Griffen sent in his direction, enough to show him that Griffen was as confused and uncomfortable as he was.

  The rest of the meal limped along in the same fashion, or so it felt to Bastien. When he and his brothers and sister returned home afterward, they all stopped for a moment in the entry hall and stared at each other.

  Mathis opened his mouth and then closed it and shook his head. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Me too,” Ligeia said as Mathis began climbing the stairs. She brushed a kiss over Bast
ien and Griffen’s cheeks. “I really don’t know what Aunt Evadne was talking about. I’m fine without either of you having a wife, so don’t worry about me.”

  Griffen gave her a quick hug. “You don’t worry about it either.”

  “I won’t. Good night, you two.”

  “Good night,” Bastien and Griffen said together. They watched her walk up the stairs and out of sight before they turned back to each other. Griffen let his bewilderment show, and Bastien could only nod.

  “Well,” Griffen said. “I did not expect that tonight.”

  “Nor I.” And he hadn’t needed it. He knew what was expected of him as earl. He didn’t need his aunt and uncle to reiterate it, and make him feel as if he was shirking at the same time.

  “Did it seem like…like Aunt Evadne wanted us to marry Patia and Idalia?” Griffen asked, his words hesitant.

  Bastien wanted to disagree, but he couldn’t. “Yes. Or at least one of us.”

  “Where did this come from?” The words burst from Griffen, hopefully not loudly enough to carry up to Mathis and Ligeia. Though there was no need to hide anything from their younger siblings, Bastien walked to the parlor, motioning for Griffen to follow.

  “I have no idea.” Bastien went to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a decanter at random. The gold color marked it as plaire, the liquor unique to Tournai. He’d have taken anything, but the plaire would do quite well. He poured two glasses and handed one to Griffen. “I certainly didn’t anticipate it when they invited us for dinner. Aunt and Uncle have never even mentioned marriage to me before.”

  “Me either. Why now? And why our cousins?” Griffen shook his head. “That’s far too close.”

  “Yes.” Marriages between first cousins weren’t illegal, but they weren’t often made anymore either. Bastien couldn’t see himself marrying one of his cousins. He might not see them often anymore, but he could never think of Patia or Idalia in that way. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “And I have no idea.”