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

by Antonia Aquilante

  He decided to say it and hope all went well. “Dragons aren’t just legend. They’re real. And I am one.”

  Bastien blinked rapidly for a moment and shook his head, but he didn’t let go of Corentin. “I… What? But you’re a man, and dragons are…not.”

  “I didn’t say the legends got everything right, just that dragons aren’t legend.”

  “So what are they—you?” Bastien shook his head again. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  Corentin dropped a kiss on Bastien’s forehead. “It’s all right. I’ll try to explain. My Talent is what we think of as a dragon Talent. As with any other Talent, there are variations in strength and ability between the people who possess it. I have the powers you saw—the ability to create and manipulate fire. I have most of the abilities of an average fire Talent, and some extra ones. I can also change myself into a dragon.”

  Bastien reared back even as his fingers tightened on Corentin’s arms. “You can what?”

  “I can become a dragon. My people are what the legends were based on, and they were hunted down, killed, or captured, though few knew the dragons were people with a particular Talent. It amounted to the same anyway. My ancestors ran and created a new home for themselves where they would be safe. Many have come over the years to join that first group. Some still do. None of us wants the dragons to be anything except legend for fear of someone finding us again.”

  “I remember the stories of dragon hunts.” Bastien let out a long breath. “I can’t believe all of this is real. It seems too fantastical.”

  He hesitated but plowed ahead. “I can show you, if you like.”

  “Show me?” Bastien’s eyes were wide.

  “Yes, I can use my Talent. Change into a dragon for you.”

  Bastien’s mouth opened and closed several times before he nodded. “I would be honored if you would show me. Now?”

  Corentin almost laughed at the combination of awe and eagerness and hesitance in Bastien. “I’m rather too big as a dragon to fit in this room.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.” Another head shake, as if Bastien was trying to get his thoughts to settle. “Where, then?”

  “There’s nowhere in the city where I’d have the space and privacy. I’ve been going out to a spot on the cliffs at night when I want to change and fly. It’s risky, but I’m careful.”

  “You’d be able to at Ardesia. There’s so much open land there, but it’s too far from here. The cliffs make sense. It should be late enough now, don’t you think? No one would be out to see us.”

  It was Corentin’s turn to rear back. “You want to go now?”

  “Yes, if you don’t mind showing me now.”

  “I don’t mind showing you—I said I would. The prince is assigning guards to you. That would make it difficult to show you, since I can’t have anyone else finding out.”

  “So let’s go before the guards come to retrieve me.”

  “That is a horrible idea.” He wanted to shake Bastien. “Someone tried to kill you—someone you believe has already killed before. It would be incredibly stupid to go off into the night without the guards meant to protect you.”

  “You’ll be there to protect me.” Bastien’s simple statement floored Corentin. “I was caught alone and unarmed by two men. I won’t be alone if you’re with me. You already said you weren’t going to let me out of your sight.”

  “I did, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “If we don’t go now, I don’t know when we’ll have another chance. I’ll have guards following me around until we catch this person. Or forever, because I’m not sure we’ll ever catch them. And I want to see you. I want to know more.”

  Corentin knew he was going to give in; maybe he’d always known the futility of arguing with Bastien. It still seemed far too reckless and dangerous, but he consoled himself as best he could by vowing that he would keep Bastien safe on this ill-advised outing.

  They slipped out of the examination room, Bastien leading him through corridors, out a door, and across a small courtyard to the stables. Neither of them had a horse at the palace, but Bastien was known to be the prince’s cousin, and the stable hands had no problem loaning them horses and a lantern.

  Bastien asked no questions about where they were going, only let Corentin lead him off palace grounds and through the city to the gate. The trust was humbling and somewhat stunning. Someone had just tried to kill him, and Corentin had told him he could change into a beast out of legend, yet Bastien was still following him.

  Outside Jumelle, the road was quiet and empty. The lantern hooked onto Corentin’s saddle gave them enough light to see by as they rode, taking the road and then veering off into the trees near the spot on the cliffs Corentin always used.

  “We should leave the horses here. I don’t want them to startle when I change.” Tournai’s horses weren’t used to dragons, unlike the ones back home. “We don’t need them running for the palace stables and leaving us here.”

  “I’d hate to have to walk back.” Bastien dismounted. “But these horses were bred and trained by us. They don’t scare easily.”

  Corentin rather hoped Bastien didn’t scare easily.

  After they secured the horses, Corentin led Bastien through the small wood and out onto the strip of land separating the trees from the clifftop. He handed Bastien the lantern. “Hold this. I don’t want you stumbling off the edge in the dark.”

  “What about you?”

  “In another minute, I’ll have wings.”

  Bastien let out what might have been a laugh. “I still don’t quite believe this is real.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this now?” All Corentin wanted was to take Bastien back to Jumelle and bundle him up into bed—either Bastien’s or his own, he wasn’t fussy—and hold onto him for what remained of the night, perhaps into tomorrow too. Maybe even the next day. The urge to wrap Bastien in his arms, to feel him alive and safe, hadn’t abated at all.

  “Yes, as long you don’t mind showing me. I don’t want to pressure you.” The play of shadow over Bastien’s face in the lantern light made discerning nuances of his expression difficult.

  “You’re not.” He stroked a hand over Bastien’s cheek and down, leaving it to rest on the side of Bastien’s neck as he kissed him, savoring and hoping there would be more kisses in his future.

  “As much as I like that,” Bastien said in a rough voice, “why don’t you show me now? Then we can go back to Jumelle and do more of that indoors.”

  Bastien probably would need sleep more than anything else after the ordeal of tonight, but Corentin nevertheless did as he asked. He stepped back and drew on his Talent. The change rushed through him, the magic reminding him once more that he hadn’t used it as often as he should have, or hadn’t used the main part of it. Lighting candles was not enough to keep his Talent happy. He let it flow now, reshaping himself into the dragon.

  BASTIEN DIDN’T KNOW what he expected—if he expected anything in particular—when Corentin began to use his Talent to change himself into a dragon. Change himself into a dragon—a phrase Bastien never dreamed he’d have cause to think. What a turn his life had taken.

  Silver-purple light obscured Corentin’s form, twirling and twining around him and then growing, larger and larger. Expanding up and out, with Corentin hidden entirely in the center of the shimmering radiance. Bastien took a step back, unsure of what would happen, not wanting to interfere. But the light spread no further, only shifted to a steady glow, and, after a moment, began to fade away until it was gone entirely. Bastien blinked against the sudden darkness, with only the soft light of the lantern to alleviate it after the brilliant light of magic. When his vision adjusted, he gasped.

  Where Corentin had stood only a moment ago was a large dragon.

  Bastien stared, his gaze traveling over the astonishing creature sitting in front of him. The dragon—Corentin, the dragon was Corentin, and he had to remember that or he might be as t
errified as he was awed—Corentin was a magnificent sight. He was enormous and sinuous, with a powerful body and a long neck and wings folded over his back. His body, except for his wings, seemed to be entirely covered in scales that glistened in the light from the lantern. In the near dark, Bastien couldn’t tell what color the scales were, and he very much wanted to know. Because Corentin was beautiful, and Bastien wanted to see all of him, to remember this sight forever. This first time he saw Corentin as a dragon.

  He looked up, meeting Corentin’s eyes, and opened his mouth to ask about the color of his scales, which was probably a ridiculous question both for its subject and for the fact that Bastien didn’t know if Corentin could talk as a dragon. Could dragons talk? In the stories, they mostly roared and breathed fire, but the stories obviously weren’t correct. Except that dragons did exist.

  And he was rambling even in his thoughts.

  He nearly laughed at himself, but then he realized how wary Corentin looked. He wouldn’t have thought a dragon, so large and fierce, could look wary, but somehow Corentin did. Corentin must be worried about his reaction. Could he not see how in awe Bastien was, how beautiful Bastien thought he was? How honored he felt to be trusted with this secret?

  Bastien ached to reassure Corentin, to show him he wasn’t afraid. He was as drawn to Corentin the dragon as to Corentin the man. His fingers itched to reach out and touch the dragon’s scales. Bastien took a step forward and raised a hand. He froze and met Corentin’s eyes again. They were focused on him, the light of the lantern reflected in their surface, but Bastien couldn’t tell if they were the same brilliant violet as Corentin’s were as a man. He hoped they were; he suddenly realized how much he loved the color.

  “May I?” he asked hesitantly.

  Corentin nodded his large head. “Yes, if you like.”

  Bastien’s mouth fell open just a bit when Corentin spoke. His voice was even deeper, a rumble that was almost a purr. Slowly, Bastien smiled and laid his hand against Corentin’s side. The scales were hard and silky smooth, and warm. Somehow he hadn’t expected them to be so warm. But there was nothing about Corentin that was ever cold. Bastien found himself stroking Corentin’s side, enjoying the feel of the scales under his hand. Corentin made a sound of pure pleasure and seemed to relax into the soft caresses.

  “You are amazing like this.” Bastien let the words out on a breath of air and felt his cheeks flame.

  “Only like this?” Corentin’s half-closed eyes danced as he teased. He lowered his head to be level with Bastien’s.

  Bastien let out a huff of laughter and shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

  “But amazing.”

  “I shouldn’t have said a word about it.” He hadn’t meant to, but the admission had slipped out because Corentin was a dragon, and Bastien couldn’t quite get that to make sense yet. “I can’t believe you’re a dragon. What color are you like this?”

  Befuddlement was clear on Corentin’s face, clearer than Bastien might have thought any emotion could be on the face of a dragon. “Color?”

  Bastien could feel his face burning again. “It’s too dark for me to tell what color your scales are even in the lantern light.”

  “Dark purple, almost black.”

  “Really?” He couldn’t say why that delighted him.

  Corentin nodded. “Yes. There’s a metallic sheen to them.”

  Bastien peered at the scales beneath his hand, wishing he could see them better. “I’d love to see you in daylight. Are all dragons the same color?”

  “No. There are many different colors. They seem to run in families and clans.”

  Fascinating. “Clans?”

  “We lived in clans all over before the hunts. There are still clan groupings, but there’s been more intermingling since we all live close together.”

  “Interesting. There wasn’t before?”

  “There was. There were dragons who formed bonds with those who didn’t have the dragon Talent too, as there still are today, but there was less opportunity. Some marriages were contracted over the distance, or because of clan members traveling and meeting. Far fewer though.”

  Bastien could sit and listen to Corentin talk about the dragon Talent and the history of his people all day—or night—and never be bored. He wanted to lean into the warm bulk of Corentin’s side and do just that. “So there are people who live among you who don’t have the Talent?”

  “Yes. There were families—friends of the clans who fled with them years ago—who never had the Talent, and there are always people who don’t inherit it. Or who inherit it in a weaker form that doesn’t allow them to change but might give them some of the other powers—the fire, for instance.”

  “Can you breathe fire like this?”

  Corentin let out a huff. “No. You saw what I can do with fire. That doesn’t change whether I’m in this form or the other.”

  “I’m only asking. I don’t know anything about your Talent.”

  Corentin sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” Bastien reached up and stroked his hand over Corentin’s jaw. The scales there were smaller but still silky. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

  Corentin nuzzled his large head into Bastien’s hand. “I shouldn’t have told you, I suppose. But I wanted to so much.”

  Before Bastien could say anything, the wind gusted, and he shivered as it cut through his cloak.

  “Are you cold?” Corentin asked. Without waiting for an answer, he unfolded one wing—Bastien sucked in a breath in wonder at the delicate panes of it stretched between the arching bones—and wrapped it around Bastien, cuddling him close and shielding him from the wind. Powerful and strong enough to keep Corentin in flight, the wing was gentle and infinitely careful now. “We should go back. You’ve been injured. You shouldn’t be out in the chilly air.”

  He didn’t want to go back yet, especially not now when Corentin had been telling him such interesting things. Corentin’s gesture was gentle and protective, and Bastien felt almost cherished held in the curve of his wing. He wasn’t ready to give that up.

  “In little while.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  WHEN CORENTIN FINALLY insisted they return to Jumelle, Bastien still wasn’t ready to give up the lovely warm feeling of being held in the shelter of his wing. He knew Corentin was right—they had to go back before Corentin was seen or someone realized Bastien had not only slipped out of the palace without his guards but out of the city entirely. But that didn’t mean he wanted it to end. He craved more—more of being with Corentin this way and the fascinating conversation. He wanted to know everything and was beyond humbled that Corentin trusted him enough to share this well-guarded knowledge.

  He was disappointed about something else too. “I wanted to see you fly,” he said as they rode back to Jumelle. He imagined Corentin in flight would be magnificent. “If you didn’t mind showing me.”

  Corentin chuckled. “I don’t mind showing you, and I will next time.” He hesitated. “You can come flying with me. If you like.”

  Bastien turned in the saddle to face Corentin, his mouth dropping open. “Really?”

  “Yes.” Corentin glanced at him and then back to the dark road. Bastien turned back around as well, though the horse was well-trained enough to walk beside Corentin’s in the lantern light.

  He wasn’t sure what to say; he wasn’t sure he could even conceive of what he was being offered. He’d only wanted to see Corentin use his wings. To be offered a chance to fly with him—to fly! to see the world, even if only the sea at night, from such a perspective and with Corentin!—was almost too much to comprehend. “I would love that. Thank you.”

  The ride back to Jumelle seemed to take longer than the ride out. Perhaps anticipation had made the prior trip appear to go faster, or perhaps it was that Bastien was tired and cold, the night air damp and chilly.

  “Can we go straight to your house? Take the horses back in the morning?” Corentin a
sked.

  “Yes, let’s.” He could have someone return the horses so neither he nor Corentin had to worry about it, and he could send Corentin home in the carriage to save him walking at night.

  “Good.”

  They entered Jumelle with no problems at the gate, and Bastien chose the most direct route back to the house. Corentin’s rooms were in a slightly different direction, but Bastien knew better than to suggest he leave Corentin there and go on alone. Besides, he wasn’t entirely stupid—he hadn’t forgotten he’d been attacked earlier that evening. Truth be told, having Corentin with him as they rode through Jumelle’s streets was a comfort. In his excitement, he hadn’t thought about how late it must be.

  They saw hardly anyone on the silent city streets. On another night, he would have enjoyed the solitude with Corentin, would have taken it as another bit of stolen time like that first strange, somewhat magical night they’d dined together. He wished this was another such night, wished he didn’t have to fear. Perhaps his attackers hadn’t had time to regroup and go back out to look for him. Maybe they needed to talk to whoever had hired them before making another attempt. He might be entirely safe at the moment. But he couldn’t know, and Corentin would never leave him alone to take the risk.

  At the house, they handed the horses off to a sleepy servant and went inside. Bastien was about to offer Corentin a drink before he called for the carriage to see him home when Griffen came thundering down the stairs.

  “Where have you been?” Griffen’s voice was low, but the words were sharp.

  “We went…” Bastien shook his head. “What is it? What’s happened? Is everyone all right?”

  Griffen’s mouth dropped open. “Are you insane? Bastien, you were nearly killed tonight, and then you disappeared from the palace without a word to anyone and without the guards that Philip assigned you. We had no idea what happened to you.”

  “I’m fine. I was with Corentin. How did you find out?”