“And I’m allowing you to tell him.”
“Why would you—”
“He saved your life, Bastien, and it is obvious that you’ve gotten close.”
“Philip, we haven’t—we aren’t…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Because what were he and Corentin really? They had gotten close, even if that closeness, that intimacy, could go nowhere. Perhaps they’d remain friends, but friendship alone seemed a poor substitute for what was developing between them.
Philip’s face settled into lines of compassion. “Do you not want him to know? Do you want to keep this from him?”
“No!” The answer burst from Bastien. He didn’t want to lie to Corentin, but on the other hand, he couldn’t be truthful. If Corentin were his husband, it would be completely different because Corentin would be family. Bastien shied violently away from the thought. Where had it come from? He and Corentin were having an affair and no more than that, so he couldn’t be told. “We can’t let this go beyond those involved. The more people who know, the more chance of it getting out. If everyone is talking about it, if everyone knows, then the investigation will be immeasurably more difficult.”
The implications of the knowledge getting out into Jumelle and Tournai, and perhaps even farther than that, gave Bastien a headache. The rumors and false information, which Loriot and Marcus would have to investigate, the gossip that would follow them all and make their days far more frustrating, were likely the least of it. If the killer knew they were searching, they might never find him.
“I think it’s safe to say that someone suspects that you’re suspicious,” Philip said. “That you might know something. I don’t want the information going further until we know more. But if you trust Master Corentin to keep this secret, I won’t forbid you to tell him.”
Bastien knew Corentin well enough to know he wouldn’t allow the knowledge to slip, let alone deliberately tell anyone. Sometimes he thought Corentin too closemouthed, that despite their many conversations, he told Bastien little in particular. “I don’t understand why you would make the exception.”
“Bastien, you’ve walled yourself off and focused every part of your life, your being, on the earldom.”
“It’s my responsibility, my duty.”
Philip’s lips curved in a wry, sad smile. “I know all about that. It doesn’t mean you can have nothing for yourself. I like that you’ve become close to someone.”
“We can’t-it can’t—” Bastien stuttered, thrown utterly by Philip’s statement, by the profound compassion and understanding vibrating through his voice.
“You don’t know that. Tell him,” Philip said. “Make certain he knows not to say anything to anyone, and then tell him.”
Before Bastien could reply, Philip straightened from where he leaned against the wall and opened the door to reenter the room. He held his hand out for Amory, who came to him immediately.
“Everything all right?” Amory asked, darting a concerned look at Bastien.
“Fine, or as fine as it can be in this situation.” Philip looked to Loriot. “Captain, keep us informed. I want to know what you find out from your prisoner.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Bastien, I’d like you to consider staying at the palace until we catch whoever is behind this,” Philip said. “I’d feel better about your safety.”
“I can’t stay in the palace every moment.” And he didn’t much like the idea of being what amounted to a prisoner himself. “I’ll be careful, and I’ll be fine at home.”
“You could consider returning to Ardesia,” Amory ventured. “You might be safer outside Jumelle and away from so many people you don’t know personally.”
He might be, at that, and he wouldn’t mind being home, away from the bustle of Jumelle and the expectations and demands of others, yet he couldn’t leave. For many reasons, but one more pleasant than the others. “I’ll stay in Jumelle until we’ve found out who it is.”
Philip sighed, but he didn’t look surprised. “I’m assigning guards to you, then.”
“I hardly think that’s necessary,” Bastien said. He had no desire to be followed around by royal guards every moment of the day, to have them dictating his every movement. To have his time with Corentin curtailed because of it. Bastien was accustomed to ranging wherever he pleased and doing whatever he needed to do without accounting to someone else.
“Someone tried to kill you tonight. It’s necessary,” Philip said. “I won’t leave you vulnerable to another attack. Captain Loriot will arrange it.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Loriot said.
“Good. We’ll give you and Master Corentin the room, Bastien.”
The glance Philip sent him was filled with sympathy and an urging. Philip took Amory’s hand again, and they left the small room, Loriot following them out.
Bastien sighed, staring at the closed door for a moment, and then turned to Corentin.
Chapter Fourteen
CORENTIN HAD NO idea what was going on. Everything had turned upside down the moment he’d stepped outside the eating house and looked for Bastien, only to find two men attacking him. The swirling mass of white-hot anger and cold fear had yet to fully dissipate, even as he stood and listened while Bastien, the princes, and the captain of the royal guard discussed an attempt on Bastien’s life that they obviously knew more about than he did.
Frustration layered over the sick, churning mess.
He barely spared a thought to Bastien’s curiosity over his use of his Talent when he should have; he should be worried and trying to find a believable story to tell him so his secret wouldn’t be revealed. It wasn’t even a consideration at the moment.
His only priority was keeping Bastien safe. But to do that, he needed more information.
Yet here he was, no more knowledgeable and alone with Prince Amory and Loriot.
They waited in silence for a moment before Prince Amory asked, “Are you all right, Master Corentin? I assume Captain Loriot and Jadis asked, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t injured.”
Corentin had been introduced to the prince and his consort at Etan’s wedding, but that was his only close contact with either of them. Seeing Prince Amory now, his first impression of the beauty of the prince’s auburn-haired husband was borne out. His large dark eyes were focused on Corentin.
“I wasn’t injured, Your Highness. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Master Corentin, for helping Bastien.”
“No thanks necessary, Your Highness. Not for that.” Never for that. He would always work to protect Bastien. The bone-deep conviction was so stark and sure, it was almost startling, yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“And yet you have them, mine and Philip’s, and Bastien’s family’s as well.” Prince Amory’s stare never wavered. “You care for Bastien, don’t you?”
“I—yes, I do.” Corentin wasn’t sure what to say, yet he was unable to deny his feelings.
Prince Amory nodded, his gaze warming. “I’m happy to hear it. I don’t know Bastien as well as I do some of Philip’s other cousins, but I’m happy he has someone. I really think he needs someone.”
The door opened before Prince Amory could say anything further, or Corentin could gather his thoughts enough to respond. Prince Amory turned to Prince Philip as soon as he stepped back into the room, Bastien following behind. “Everything all right?”
Prince Philip reassured his husband and then proceeded to have a conversation with Bastien and Loriot about Bastien’s safety. As much as Corentin ached at the thought of not having Bastien in Jumelle, he wondered if it would be better for Bastien out of the city. If his estate was more remote—something Corentin didn’t know but should find out—it would probably be more difficult for someone to sneak into the area and take Bastien unaware. As much as he wanted Bastien close, he had to consider the merits of the idea if it could keep Bastien safer.
Of course, Bastien refused.
After the do
or closed behind the princes and Loriot, leaving Corentin alone with Bastien, he stared at Bastien for a moment, ready to demand information, to press until Bastien told him everything. Instead, he took Bastien in his arms, crushing him against his chest and holding him there. Bastien let out a rush of air and flailed for the barest second before wrapping his arms around Corentin in turn, his fingers curling into the back of Corentin’s jacket as he leaned heavily into him.
Corentin let out a long, shuddering breath and buried his face in Bastien’s hair. Fear twined with the relief at having Bastien in his arms and alive, making a mess of his thoughts and turning his knees wobbly now that the immediate danger was past. But only the immediate danger. Someone had tried to kill Bastien, and everyone seemed to believe the attempt would be repeated. Corentin’s protective instincts roared back to life, and he fought the almost overwhelming urge to bundle Bastien up and fly away with him, to hide him away somewhere safe where he would be protected, and loved.
But he couldn’t do that.
“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Bastien stiffened slightly against him at his whispered question, but Corentin didn’t let go. “Please. I want to help.”
He wanted to keep Bastien safe, and to do that, he needed to know.
“Philip said I should tell you.” Bastien’s voice was muffled in Corentin’s shoulder but still audible in the quiet room.
“You don’t want to?” He hated that it hurt to think Bastien wouldn’t want to tell him, and made him feel rather hypocritical too.
“I do. But…” Bastien sighed. “I do.”
“Then tell me. Maybe I can help?”
Bastien nuzzled into Corentin’s neck, and then with another deep sigh, straightened. Corentin didn’t let him go far. Bastien’s lips twisted in a wry smile, but he didn’t try to step away. “Do you remember the family matter I’ve mentioned?”
“The one that’s been troubling you.” He’d known it was serious, but how did a family matter result in an attempt on Bastien’s life?
“Yes.” Bastien seemed to search for words for a moment and then rested his head once more on Corentin’s shoulder. “My parents and Philip’s were killed in a boating accident several years ago. We thought it was an accident.”
“But it wasn’t an accident, I take it?”
“No. It was murder—assassination. Before I came to Jumelle for Etan’s wedding, I received an anonymous letter.” The story spilled from Bastien. The letter, his early attempts at investigation, informing the princes and the progression of the investigation from there. His emotions were plain in his voice—pain and worry, frustration and fear. Corentin hadn’t expected a story of a many years’ old murder of a prince and princess and an earl and countess. Murder that had cost Bastien his parents and pushed him into his current role far earlier than he’d expected, it would seem. So much was beginning to make sense. Corentin held Bastien just a bit tighter.
“So you believe that whoever killed your parents and the man who sent you the letter is the same as whoever tried to have you killed tonight,” he said.
“It’s a logical conclusion. It wasn’t a robbery. It wasn’t random. They came after me specifically, and I can’t think of another reason why they would.”
Now that he knew the full story, Corentin had to agree. Bastien hadn’t done anything else that would have someone wanting to kill him. He wasn’t the type; he was too good, too conscientious and careful in all that he did. Corentin also agreed the attacks on Bastien weren’t going to stop, not when those responsible obviously believed Bastien knew something that would presumably lead to them.
And they’d already killed before, or paid someone else to kill. Icy fear poured through Corentin’s veins.
“They won’t get close to you again.”
“I’ll be careful.” Bastien looked up at Corentin. “It’ll certainly be more difficult to get to me with the guards Philip is insisting on.”
“I won’t let you out of my sight either.” The words popped out without thought, but he intended to abide by them anyway.
Bastien chuckled low, his eyes warming. “I don’t know if you can quite manage that.”
“Oh I will. Not a moment out of my sight.”
“You have students and lectures, and I have business as well.”
“Doesn’t matter. Not any of it. Not more than your safety.”
Bastien’s whole expression softened, and a smile flirted with the edges of his lips. “Thank you. But still. We both know very well you won’t be able to be with me every moment.”
“Watch me try.” He bent his head and kissed Bastien, not letting him protest further. The long, slow kiss did more to soothe Corentin’s nerves than anything else. He had Bastien in his arms, and he would keep him safe.
When the kiss ended, Corentin half expected Bastien to begin arguing again and was already compiling reasons why Corentin would do exactly as he said. His protectiveness—possessiveness, even—was bursting forth unchecked, but he didn’t have the will to rein himself in.
But Bastien only said, “It’s your turn to answer questions. Because that magic you used was like no fire Talent I’ve ever heard of.”
And there it was, the question Corentin had been dreading because he couldn’t tell the truth, not and protect his people, but he couldn’t lie either, not to Bastien. “I—it’s just my Talent. It’s nothing special.”
“You threw balls of fire at those men. That is special.”
“I—didn’t—it was dark, and it wasn’t really as impressive as it might have seemed,” Corentin managed weakly. Why was this so difficult? He’d hidden his Talent and where he came from—what he was—for years with no trouble, but he was stumbling over his words with Bastien. Of course, he’d never felt such a connection to anyone as he did to Bastien.
“Stop. I know what I saw, Corentin. If you’re not going to explain it, if you don’t want to tell me, just say so.” Bastien pushed away from him, but Corentin didn’t let go. “You aren’t obligated to tell me anything. You saved my life, and I’m very grateful for that.”
Corentin may have been able to keep him close, but Bastien’s voice went frosty and stiff—far closer to the Bastien he’d first met than the one he’d come to know, and to care for deeply. “Forget gratitude. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.”
“And still you have my gratitude. I should collect the guards Captain Loriot found for me and go home. I’ll send you a note tomorrow.”
“Wait. Don’t go.” They really never should’ve left Corentin’s bed earlier. Surely food hadn’t been that important.
“It’s been a long night, Corentin.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I do. But keeping this information secret is something I’ve done since I left home. It could be extremely dangerous if people found out.”
“I don’t understand. What do you think I would do?”
“It’s not that I think you would do anything. I trust you, Bastien, but my whole purpose is to make sure our secret doesn’t get out.” Corentin closed his eyes. “To keep my people safe. We’ve been hunted in the past for it.”
“Hunted?” Shock flashed across Bastien’s face. “For your Talent?”
“Basically. We’ve spent generations building a safe place for ourselves, letting the stories fade away. Making sure no one came too close to the truth about us or could find us.” Corentin danced around the actual words, picking and choosing and feeling utterly stupid as he did because he knew what he was about to do. “So telling you—telling anyone—isn’t a small matter. Master Savarin found out, put pieces together and somehow figured out my secret, and I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t because I can’t risk my people.”
Bastien shook his head. “I don’t know Master Savarin, but Philip trusts him…and I really don’t understand.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m going about this all wrong.” He’d never told anyone before—never had to, because at home, everyone knew. He
’d grown up surrounded only by those who possessed the dragon’s Talent in its many forms and those who didn’t but who had lived among them for generations. When he left, he promised he wouldn’t reveal the secret. He was about to break his word. “I’m going to explain. I’m going to tell you.”
“You just said you couldn’t, that it would be dangerous for you and your people.” Bastien’s hands clutched at his arms. “You weren’t lying to me about that?”
“No.” He answered as if he would never lie to Bastien, but he had been lying to him, at least by omission, since they met.
“Then should you tell me? I don’t want you to be in danger, or anyone else either.”
Corentin smiled, relief and affection filling him. He brushed a light kiss over Bastien’s lips. “I trust you.”
Bastien let out a huff of baffled laughter. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Promise me that no matter what, no matter how you react, you won’t tell anyone.”
“What do you mean, how I react? I wouldn’t tell your secrets. You said you trust me.” Bastien’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Corentin.
“I do, but this is big.” He wanted to laugh at his unintended joke. Big didn’t cover it in so many ways. “Big and frightening, potentially.”
“I’ve already seen you lob balls of fire around as easy as breathing. Was I supposed to be scared of that?”
“It’s been known to scare people.”
“Well, you weren’t throwing them at me, so I didn’t find it scary.”
“There’s more to my Talent than that.” So much more. How was he supposed to explain it all to Bastien without him running for the hills? Or the royal guard. But no, Bastien promised he wouldn’t tell.
Bastien put a hand to Corentin’s cheek, the touch soothing. “Just tell me.”
“I’m not sure how.” Corentin took a breath. “What do you know of dragons?”
Bastien leaned away. “From the stories? What does that have to do with you and your Talent?”
“Everything.”
Bastien watched him silently as time stretched out between them, as if assessing how serious Corentin was. Then he said, “Tell me, Corentin.”
The Dragon's Devotion (Chronicles of Tournai Book 5) Page 23