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

by Antonia Aquilante

  “Or the act of writing the letter?” Bastien asked. “Though I wouldn’t have thought that could have gotten out.”

  “We’ve kept the information only among us.” Loriot’s firm tone invited no arguments. “Lord Marcus and I haven’t even confided in our most trusted men. Still, anything is possible. We may need to confide in others soon to continue investigating.”

  “Because we can safely assume this isn’t a hoax,” Philip said, verbalizing the thought that had been swirling through Bastien’s head for the last few moments.

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Philip sighed but nodded. “Bring in who you must, but I still want this kept as quiet as possible. I don’t want all of Jumelle talking.”

  “And we really don’t want whoever is behind this to find out we know—if they don’t already have that information,” Cathal said.

  “Can we also assume whoever did this is in Jumelle?” Griffen asked. “They killed this man here, so they have to be here.”

  “Or have agents here,” Etan muttered.

  “You’re thinking it might have been someone outside Jumelle?” Bastien asked. “Doing what? Trying to destabilize the country? Take over?”

  “Possibly,” Etan said. “Whatever it is, it didn’t work, unless they’re playing a very long game that we know nothing about.”

  “Ardunn seems to always be trying to get their agents into Jumelle.” Amory ventured the suggestion tentatively. Whether because he thought he might be wrong or he hoped he was, Bastien wasn’t certain.

  “It’s something we’ll consider, Your Highness.”

  “Do you have a plan?” Philip asked.

  “Lord Marcus is searching the man’s room, and we’ll try to find out all we can about him and if he had any more information, perhaps hidden. Master Savarin also has some ideas. He’d like to see if magic was used to cause the shipwreck.”

  “How would he do that?” Etan asked at the same time as Bastien snapped out, “Didn’t someone check for that at the time?”

  “Something was done, but not by anyone as powerful as Savarin. He was out of the country at the time it happened and didn’t arrive back until after it was ruled an accident,” Loriot said. “He isn’t sure he can find anything even if they did use magic because so much time has passed, but he wants to try.”

  “How will he do it?” Etan repeated, his voice far more controlled than Bastien’s. But then, Etan hadn’t lost a parent in the event they were discussing.

  “We’ve kept what was recovered of the wreckage,” Loriot answered. “I’m not sure why, but it’s in a guard warehouse. Savarin wants to examine it. He would also like to take a boat out to the site and see what can be found there, if we can pinpoint something close to the location. He’ll speak to you himself about the magic, of course. At the moment, he’s examining Gabin’s room along with Lord Marcus.”

  Philip nodded slowly. “All right. I want a report from Lord Marcus and Master Savarin as soon as they’re finished.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Loriot said.

  “I’d like to see this man’s room as well,” Bastien said.

  “Do you think you’ll find something Lord Marcus or Master Savarin won’t?” Philip asked.

  “Another set of eyes can’t hurt.” In truth, he had no idea. Griffen was correct that Bastien had no training or experience, but he couldn’t just sit back and wait. Philip was constrained as the prince; Bastien wasn’t without restrictions caused by his title, but he had more freedom.

  Philip watched him, his gaze intense and assessing. Finally he said, “All right, but don’t interfere with Master Savarin or Lord Marcus’s work.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll go with you, and then we can go directly to lunch with Uncle Lonzo,” Griffen said suddenly. “If one extra pair of eyes could help, two might be even better.”

  Bastien thought two of them might just trip over each other, but Philip nodded so Bastien didn’t protest.

  “Fine, Griffen. Is there anything else you have to tell us, Captain?” Philip asked.

  “Not at this time, Your Highness.”

  “All right. We’ll talk more later. Thank you,” Philip said.

  Loriot bowed and left the room, and silence fell once more. Philip broke it after a moment. “Bastien, Griffen, if you truly want to go have a look, get the location from Loriot or have him escort you down, whatever he thinks best. And follow whatever recommendation he makes.”

  Bastien didn’t feel that he needed an escort, but it was easy enough to agree when he’d been given everything he wanted. “Yes, Philip. If we’re finished here for now, Griffen and I will go.”

  “We are. We’ll talk more later.”

  LORIOT CHOSE TO escort Bastien and Griffen instead of simply directing them. As they traveled farther into the warren of streets in one of Jumelle’s poorer districts, Bastien began to be glad of the escort. In the twisting mess of narrow streets where he’d never before set foot, they probably wouldn’t ever have found the building without Loriot’s guidance.

  “Master Savarin led us here earlier. The magic pinpointed the location.” Loriot dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a young man in the uniform of the royal guard who stood in the street outside the building. “It’s a bit of a maze in this area. Even marking it on a map might not have gotten us here.”

  At the captain’s direction, they left their horses in the care of the guard and his fellow on the street and followed him into the building. Once inside, Loriot turned to them and said in a low voice, “The guards outside are discreet, and they don’t know why we’re here. The only people who have been inside are me, Lord Marcus, and Master Savarin. Follow me.”

  He led them up a narrow stair to the third floor and down the equally narrow corridor to a closed door on the left. Loriot rapped on the door three times in quick succession and then opened it, ushering Bastien and Griffen inside and following them. The room was small and felt even smaller once they were all inside. Savarin stood against the wall near the window. He was utterly still, but he opened his eyes with a flutter at their entrance. Marcus looked up from the stack of papers piled in front of him on the room’s tiny table. Other items littered the floor, and the bed was mussed.

  Thankfully the body had been removed. Perhaps Bastien should have wanted to examine the body, to see the face of the man who might have known what happened to his parents in their last moments, but he didn’t. He hadn’t asked how the man had been killed, whether it had been violent and looked that way, but violent or not, he had no desire to see.

  Loriot closed the door and moved around Bastien and Griffen, making his way over to Savarin. “When I gave my report at the palace, Lord Bastien and Lord Griffen asked to see the room.”

  “There isn’t much to see, unfortunately for us, but you’re welcome to have a look,” Marcus said. “I’m nearly finished. Master Savarin?”

  “Almost,” Savarin said. Loriot stood at his side, closer than most would have gotten to the most powerful sorcerer in the country, but when Savarin looked at him, it wasn’t with the arrogance Bastien expected. Something passed between them in the glance they shared, a question of some kind in the captain’s eyes. Bastien had no idea what it was, only that obviously it was meant to be private. “I’m working my way through this mess to see if there’s anything that’s been spelled here.”

  “And I’ve been working my way through the mess in the more mundane way,” Marcus said.

  Griffen looked around. “Either the man was an abysmal housekeeper or someone searched the place?”

  Marcus let out something that might have been a laugh. “I would imagine the latter, Lord Griffen. We can’t know what happened exactly, but it seems he was killed and then the room ransacked.”

  “Trying to make sure he didn’t have anything that pointed to who killed our parents and Their Highnesses,” Bastien said, knowing he stated the obvious.

  “Yes.” Marcus gestured at the papers and clo
thing strewn about. “He was a promising sailor from what I’ve found—he wouldn’t have been crewing Their Highnesses’ boat if he hadn’t been, of course—but after only cursory research into his records, I’ve found nothing worrying. I’ll continue looking into it after I finish here. From what I’ve found in this room, it seemed he’d spent time in Elleri recently. Perhaps he ran there after the shipwreck.”

  Elleri was the kingdom that bordered Tournai to the east. Well-paved roads ran directly to the border, and boats traveled the rivers to Elleri’s capital city all the time. It wouldn’t be difficult to escape there.

  Bastien nodded. “Only we don’t know if he ran because he was a witness or a conspirator.”

  “And we likely won’t, not from what we’ve found here.”

  Marcus’s words weren’t surprising, but they disappointed Bastien. He hadn’t realized how much he hoped there’d be something here to tell them what had happened that day.

  “There might be a spell I can try,” Savarin said, his tone more musing than anything. “It traces what happened when a lot of magic has been used, allowing the caster to divine what the magic was and the events it caused.”

  “And then you could tell what happened to him?” Bastien asked, aware that he wasn’t the only one staring at Savarin. Loriot’s gaze held more than astonishment, though. There was also a hint of…concern, perhaps? Yes, Bastien thought there was something between them.

  “It sounds like complicated magic,” Marcus said.

  “It is, and more so because I’m going to have to figure out how to modify the existing spell into something I can use for our purpose. I’ll have to think on it.” Savarin seemed to do just that for a moment before he shook his head. “I need to take a boat out to see where the shipwreck occurred as well. Can we keep this room as it is until I can try the spell?”

  “I can order the landlady to leave it, and we can lock it up,” Marcus said. “That won’t keep someone from breaking in if they’re determined, though.”

  Savarin waved a hand. “I can take care of that. It’s not difficult magic to prevent a break-in.”

  Bastien raised an eyebrow. Perhaps not to someone of Savarin’s power, but spells to keep intruders out weren’t simple, from what Bastien knew.

  “Thank you, Master Savarin.” Marcus turned to him and Griffen. “Is there anything else you’d like to see, your lordships, or shall we leave Master Savarin to his work?”

  Bastien wanted to stay. He wanted to go through every scrap of paper and bit of the man’s life until he came upon something that would help. But if Marcus hadn’t found anything the killer had missed in his violent search, it was unlikely Bastien would. Frustration simmered, and he fought not to let it show. “Not at this time. If we think of anything, I assume we’ll be allowed back since the room is being preserved.”

  “Of course, your lordship,” Loriot said, not saying that it was incredibly unlikely Bastien would find anything when they had failed. “Please send to me, and I’ll arrange it.”

  He nodded to Loriot.

  “We should go if we’re to make it across the city for lunch with Uncle Lonzo,” Griffen said to Bastien.

  They had time, or Bastien thought they did, but it would be rude to keep their uncle waiting. “Yes, all right. Thank you for escorting us here, Captain Loriot. Lord Marcus, Master Savarin, thank you for taking the time to talk to us.”

  “I’ll escort you back,” Loriot said.

  Bastien shook his head. “Don’t let us keep you from your work any more than we already have. We can find our own way.”

  Loriot protested, but Bastien waved off his objections. A few moments later, he and Griffen were on their way out of the cramped rooming house.

  “Can we find our way back?” Griffen asked with a rueful look.

  “I’m sure we can. Didn’t you pay attention on our way here?”

  “I did. But I’m not so confident in our ability to reverse those turnings and find our way back.”

  It was neither as easy as Bastien had thought nor as difficult as Griffen had predicted. They didn’t get hopelessly lost, and they weren’t dragged from their horses and robbed—not that Bastien believed they were in danger of that. But he was certain there was a more direct route than the one they found out of the district and back to the main road that wound through the center of Jumelle.

  Bastien only shook his head when Griffen shot him a withering look. “We found our way. Don’t make it seem as if we were lost for days.”

  Griffen snorted and got his horse moving in the direction they needed to go, and Bastien followed without another word. Despite the extra time it had taken them to find their way, they arrived in plenty of time for lunch. Uncle Lonzo, their mother’s jovial older brother, welcomed them as soon as they were shown in. He was alone and explained that Aunt Sinetta and their daughter were paying a visit themselves. His elder son was back on the family’s estate, apparently running things there these days, and his younger son was at the university.

  They chatted for a while about how their cousins were, and Bastien and Griffen answered their uncle’s questions about Mathis and Ligeia. A servant came to announce that lunch was ready, and they followed Uncle Lonzo through the house to a small dining room overlooking the house’s garden. There were no flowers in bloom at this time of year, but it was still a pleasant room and a peaceful view. Uncle Lonzo seated himself at the table, lowering himself carefully into his chair. He was a tall man and had run to a slight paunch as he aged, but he still reminded Bastien of their mother, who had possessed a feminine version of her brother’s features and bronze hair—the same hair color she’d passed on to Bastien and Griffen—though Uncle Lonzo’s hair was graying badly. His mother had died too young for gray hair.

  “Everything all right, Bastien?” Uncle Lonzo asked as they ate a particularly well-prepared fish soup.

  Bastien snapped out of his musings. How long had he been lost in thoughts of his mother? “Fine, fine. Why do you ask?”

  “You seem melancholy, which isn’t like you.” Uncle Lonzo watched him carefully, and a glance showed Bastien that Griffen frowned in concern as well.

  “My apologies. I was distracted.”

  “Is there anything I can help with?” Uncle Lonzo asked. “You know you only ever have to ask.”

  Uncle Lonzo had always been the opposite of Uncle Ormand, easygoing where their other uncle was formal and stiff. Both had tried to help him when he first came to the title, though they went about it in far different ways.

  “I do know, Uncle. Thank you. There’s really nothing.” But was there nothing? He’d wanted to know if his uncle remembered anything helpful from the time of Mother and Father’s deaths. Perhaps there was a way to ask without arousing his suspicions. “I’ve been thinking about Mother and Father lately for some reason. Perhaps it’s being here in Jumelle.”

  Uncle Lonzo’s expression softened further into sympathy. “I miss her too. She was always such a bright presence.”

  Bastien nodded. His uncle had always had a soft spot for his younger sister. It had often translated into a preference for her children. He remembered lots of treats—toys and books and sweets—slipped to him when he was a child during visits with his uncle.

  “You haven’t spent much time here in Jumelle since they died, have you?”

  “No, the estate occupies my time, and I have little need to come into the city.” Bastien glanced across the small table to see Griffen contemplating him, probably hoping he wouldn’t give the secret away, but he could manage that much.

  “Of course it does. Though you should make some time to visit more often. To see friends and family, and be seen around court too. It will help you make connections that you need. Ligeia will want to wed soon, and you may want to as well. Being known and knowing other nobles better will help.” Uncle Lonzo stopped and shook his head. “But you weren’t asking for advice about that. I suppose it’s natural that you think of them now when you’re spending so much
time here for the first time since they died, but you should remember the happier times.”

  “Yes, Uncle, of course.”

  “It was a horrible tragedy. For us—for all of Tournai, to lose them and Their Highnesses. So sudden.” Uncle Lonzo glanced away for a moment before turning back and giving them a brief smile. “I was glad I had the chance to see her one last time before.”

  “You did?” Griffen asked.

  “Yes, yes. A dinner up at the palace. I don’t believe any of you were there. You were all young at the time.” Uncle Lonzo sighed as Bastien tried to remember what that dinner was and who might have been there. “So many people, but it was a court entertainment, so there would be. Not the most private time, but it was nice to see her and speak with her. I hold onto that memory. She was happy and looking forward to that sailing trip.”

  “They always liked to be on the water,” Bastien murmured.

  And so many people had known it.

  A KNOCK CAME on the door to Corentin’s rooms while he was changing. He’d only just returned from the university after spending the day meeting with students and putting some work in on a manuscript he wasn’t certain he would ever actually have published. Throughout the day, he’d been thinking of Bastien and regretting that he couldn’t have skipped every single thing he had to do and stayed in bed with him. The thought of seeing Bastien again had driven him home earlier than he’d planned and motivated him to change and take a bit more care with his appearance. Before they parted ways that morning, they’d decided to meet for dinner and then come back to Corentin’s rooms. Corentin was looking forward to all parts of that plan.

  He threw on a dressing gown, trying to suppress his frustration at the interruption. Probably the landlady or one of the other tenants, though the place had seemed fairly deserted when he arrived. He stalked to the door and yanked it open, ready to tell whoever it was that he was busy. And froze.

  Bastien stood in the hallway.

  Surprise wore off quickly, replaced by a distressingly intense joy at seeing the man. It was as if he hadn’t seen Bastien for weeks, but they’d only parted hours ago. “Bastien. I expected you later.”