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

by Antonia Aquilante

  “I was going to ask you the same.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Bastien wished he could raise an eyebrow as eloquently as Corentin could, but he settled for a skeptical look instead. “You’re here when you don’t have to be. And there was last night.”

  “Last night was your mistake.” Griffen’s voice went tight and clipped.

  “I meant your yelling. I wouldn’t have expected it from you, especially in front of a guest.” He didn’t care that Corentin hadn’t been bothered—Bastien was embarrassed that his brother had behaved so abominably.

  “Just one more aspect of my behavior you can find disgraceful, I’m sure. But I don’t much care what you think. I wasn’t speaking to you as the earl, but as my brother. I was worried about you, and you had just done something stupid. I’m entitled to tell you so. You certainly have no problem telling me when you think I’ve done something inappropriate, and none of my actions have ever put my life in danger.” Griffen said it all through gritted teeth, as if trying to keep himself from yelling once more.

  “Be that as it may,” Bastien said, doing some teeth gritting of his own, “you should not have yelled in front of Corentin.”

  “Don’t scold me.” Griffen turned to face him and folded his arm across his chest. “You brought Master Corentin into the house. You let him stay the night in your bed. I can’t imagine he isn’t someone you trust to know family secrets. I take it he knows about what happened to Mother and Father.”

  “He does,” Bastien admitted, hating that he felt defensive in the face of Griffen’s sharp accusation.

  “There you are, then.”

  “Philip told me to tell him. He was there when I was attacked. I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t been.” Why was he arguing? It wasn’t any of Griffen’s concern. Philip had made the decision, and that should have been the end of it.

  “And I’m grateful for that, Bastien, but my point is that you trust him. Philip obviously trusts him. And he stayed with you in the house. To my knowledge, you’ve never brought a lover home. You’re far too concerned with appearances and propriety for that.”

  How Griffen managed to make that sound like a distasteful thing, Bastien would never know. “There’s nothing wrong with maintaining the dignity of our family and keeping up some semblance of propriety in our home. Ligeia is there, in case you’ve forgotten, and no one needs to parade affairs in front of her.”

  “So is Master Corentin more than an affair, then? For you to bring him into our home, I mean.”

  Bastien hesitated. “I think we can all agree there were special circumstances at work last night.”

  “There certainly were. But I know you, Bastien—or I thought I did. You did something so blindingly reckless last night that I can’t be sure.”

  Bastien narrowed his eyes at Griffen and opened his mouth to deliver the setdown he obviously needed when the door to the bedchamber opened. Corentin stepped into the sitting room and looked from Bastien to Griffen and back. His gaze lingered on Bastien, and in his eyes, Bastien found support and concern.

  “Am I interrupting?” Corentin had dressed for court in rich blue velvet and looked as fine as any noble. “I can give you a moment.”

  “It’s your home, Corentin.” Bastien would not force Corentin to hide or vacate his own rooms in order for Bastien and Griffen to argue, or for Bastien to lecture Griffen. Though, for some reason, Bastien couldn’t find the will to deliver that lecture. He was tired. Not necessarily physically, but in every other way.

  Corentin came to stand beside him, his arm brushing Bastien’s. “It doesn’t matter. I can give you some time to talk.”

  “No, but thank you.” He dredged up a smile for Corentin in appreciation of his thoughtfulness and deference to Bastien’s desire for discretion, even though, at this point, everyone knew. “We need to get to the palace. We shouldn’t keep the prince waiting.”

  No one argued with him. On the street, the guards, in their distinctive uniforms with the royal seal on the breast, were still standing with the horses. Their presence was garnering some attention, not the least of which from Corentin’s landlady, who watched them from the front window with narrowed eyes. Whether she was irritated by the presence of the guards or simply curious wasn’t something Bastien could determine.

  “I hope this won’t cause you trouble,” Bastien said to Corentin quietly after they’d mounted up. At Corentin’s quizzical look, he gestured discreetly toward the window.

  Corentin glanced over and huffed out a laugh. “It’s fine.”

  Bastien could only take his word for it.

  The guards stayed close to Bastien as they rode through the streets of Jumelle, a more difficult proposition in the narrow, twisting lanes of the university quarter than when they came to the broader street that would lead them up to the palace. They stayed with him even when they all arrived at the palace, one guard in front and one behind, all the way to the princes’ study.

  Bastien hadn’t expected to be escorted inside the palace. Not just anyone could get past the gate, so apparently they—and Loriot, by extension—were taking no chances. Most people they passed in the corridors were too used to court politics and proceedings to gawk at them, but Bastien suspected they were still curious about the escort. He cringed inwardly at the speculation that would turn quickly to rumors circulating among Jumelle’s elite. He couldn’t imagine what they would say, but he would rather as little as possible be said about him, at least until the investigation turned up something more.

  If it ever did.

  But someone wanted him dead, so obviously there was more to find. What did they think he knew? And why target only him? Not that he wanted anyone else to be in danger, but it made little sense. Unless they knew he’d received the letter but believed he hadn’t told anyone about it? If so, perhaps they thought they’d only need to kill the sender and Bastien. He couldn’t understand how they could be so certain it would all end with that. Then again, they might not be. Perhaps this was only the beginning or perhaps it was a part of some other plan entirely, something he couldn’t conceive of yet.

  “All right?” Corentin asked in a low voice as they crossed into the emptier corridors of the royal wing.

  Bastien glanced at him and saw the concern in his violet eyes. How did Corentin know he was upset? Bastien made a conscious effort to relax the tension in his muscles to make his distress less noticeable. “Fine.”

  Corentin nodded and brushed the back of his hand against Bastien’s. A soft, fleeting touch, but it soothed something inside Bastien. He hadn’t realized his breathing had quickened until he could suddenly take a deep breath again. He flashed Corentin a look he hoped conveyed his gratitude and appreciation—for the gesture, for Corentin’s presence—all he could do considering where they were, though it seemed inadequate. When he received a soft smile in return, something inside him did a slow roll.

  They arrived at the princes’ study before Bastien could analyze the reaction, but perhaps that was best.

  The guards stayed outside while Philip’s secretary, Donatien, admitted them with a bow. “My lords, sir, Their Highnesses have been delayed at audiences, but they will join you shortly. May I bring you anything to eat or drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Bastien said, though he had no doubt Donatien would have something brought anyway if the wait proved longer than expected. Amory would likely have left instructions to that effect. He was nothing if not courteous.

  Donatien bowed again and left them in the study. The three of them looked at each other for a moment. Impatience was a living thing within Bastien, but of course he couldn’t demand Loriot’s presence and report. Griffen ran a hand through his hair and stalked to the windows. Folding his arms, he looked down on the autumn garden below. Bastien stifled a sigh. Hands came down on his shoulders, and he jumped slightly but calmed immediately under Corentin’s touch, the scent of him, the feel of him near. Corentin began to knead Bastien’s shoulders, a
nd it felt so good, Bastien couldn’t make himself tell Corentin stop.

  “So this is the princes’ office? I wouldn’t have thought they’d share,” Corentin said after a few moments, his strong hands never stopping their firm motions. He had to be trying to distract Bastien, but Bastien wouldn’t fault him for that. And Corentin likely hadn’t been anywhere near the princes’ study or offices before. “I’d have thought it would be bigger, more grand, as well. No offense meant of course.”

  “It’s their private study, which, yes, they share. They have more formal separate public offices in another part of the palace.” But adjacent to each other and linked by a connecting door for convenience. “They use those for most of their meetings. The study is for more private business or meetings with trusted people.”

  “I’m honored to be included.” Corentin’s hands kept up their massage. The pressure of his fingers felt good, but Bastien couldn’t quite relax the way he might have if they were alone, even though the connection to Corentin was soothing on an entirely different level.

  When they heard someone at the door, Corentin gave his shoulders a last lingering caress and then stepped back before it opened to admit a servant with a tray of refreshments. She put the tray on the small table in the corner of the room and curtsied before leaving. None of them touched the refreshments, though Bastien was almost positive Amory would have words about that when he arrived, if he came with Philip. And unless he had another obligation, he likely would; Amory and Philip were near inseparable, it seemed.

  The thought of it made Bastien rather wistful actually.

  Corentin didn’t begin his shoulder massage again for which Bastien was equal parts disappointed and grateful. Perhaps not entirely equal parts. Griffen continued to look out the window. Bastien had no idea what he found so fascinating outside, but he thought it best not to ask—he didn’t feel the need to renew their argument. Instead, he turned his attention to Corentin, who was occupying himself with a study of the room.

  He’d walked over to the fireplace and was studying the small portrait of Philip, Amory, and Julien propped up on mantle and flanked by twisting glass candelabras. Corentin lingered there for a moment before turning to the landscape painting—one of Flavian’s, if Bastien wasn’t mistaken—hanging above it.

  From there, he moved to a perusal of the bookcases. If Bastien remembered correctly, the books were all tomes the princes might have to reference in their work. There was a large library elsewhere in the palace, of course, and a smaller one, more of a reading room, in Philip and Amory’s suite, though Bastien hadn’t spent any time there in…years probably. Corentin didn’t seem bored by the titles or didn’t show it if he was. Bastien leaned against the back of a chair as he stood and settled in to watch him. He moved with such grace and power, even in these slowest, smallest actions. The dragon—Corentin as a dragon—had moved gracefully too, exuding an almost cat-like grace in that form.

  Corentin lifted a hand to run long fingers slowly over the spine of a thick book. The image—the feel—of those hands on him, caressing, grasping, holding, suddenly appeared in his mind. He remembered the two of them together earlier that day, moving as one in the shadows behind the curtains. Looking away quickly, he tried to slow his breathing. This was neither the time nor the place for those kinds of thoughts, pleasing as the memories were. Griffen glanced back at him, his expression inscrutable. There was no way Griffen could know what Bastien was thinking. He fixed his brother with an inquiring look until Griffen turned back to the window.

  Loriot arrived as the silence became more tense and awkward. He bowed slightly at the door. “My lords, Master Corentin, good afternoon.”

  “Good afternoon, Captain,” Bastien responded.

  Loriot was subtle, but he looked between the three of them, as if trying to understand the undercurrents in the room. Bastien wanted to wish him luck and ask him to explain if he figured it out, because Bastien was having little luck doing so.

  “Their Highnesses are finishing up in the audience chamber,” Loriot said, probably trying to forestall someone—Bastien most likely—asking him what he’d found out from the man they’d captured last night. But Bastien had learned his lesson. He wouldn’t ask until Philip and Amory were present.

  A few moments later, Marcus slipped into the room quietly. If he was hoping to go unnoticed, it didn’t work, not with all of them waiting impatiently while trying not to appear impatient. Bastien introduced Marcus and Corentin. They greeted each other cordially, but Marcus seemed somehow assessing, which might have been his natural state, and Corentin wary, which Bastien understood now that he knew his secret.

  Philip and Amory walked into the room moments later, dressed in the formal attire appropriate for audiences, Philip in burgundy silk with gold embroidery in a scrolling pattern at the hems, Amory in rich brown velvet with hints of burgundy. Both wore simple circlets on their heads.

  “Sit, sit, all of you. We apologize for keeping you waiting,” Philip said. Only Philip would apologize for his own tardiness, even to family. They were to wait on him, not the other way around.

  “Did you help yourselves to the refreshments?” Amory asked.

  “You and Philip are the ones who should eat if you’ve been in audiences for any length of time.” Griffen turned from the window. He didn’t bow to Philip and Amory, though everyone else in the study did. Neither Philip nor Amory seemed offended. Griffen was family, and they weren’t in a formal or ceremonial setting, not that Bastien waited for formal occasions to show his respect to his crown prince, cousin or not.

  “We will, but let’s hear what Captain Loriot and Lord Marcus have for us first.” Philip sat in the large chair behind his desk. Amory perched on the arm of the chair and laid a hand on Philip’s shoulder, linking them in a representation of how united they were as both rulers and lovers.

  Once Philip and Amory were seated, the rest of them found seats as well—except Loriot who remained standing nearly at attention. Corentin took the chair beside Bastien’s. Corentin’s protectiveness should have irritated him, but somehow, it only reassured him, left him warmed through.

  “Captain, what do you have to tell us?” Philip asked.

  “Your Highness, Lord Marcus and I both questioned the man we took into custody last night,” Loriot replied. “Initially, he denied trying to harm Lord Bastien, saying instead that he was only trying to rob him, but he finally admitted they were paid to follow Lord Bastien until they had an opportunity to kill him.”

  “And did he tell you who paid him to kill my brother?” There was a slight growl to Griffen’s voice that took Bastien aback.

  “No, my lord. He claims not to know who it was,” Loriot answered.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m inclined to believe he doesn’t have a name for the person who hired him—or not a real name anyway,” Marcus put in. “But I don’t think he knows nothing of his employer.”

  “What do you mean?” Philip asked.

  “He’s playing less intelligent than he is. A hireling, yes, but this isn’t a bumbling fool plucked off the street for this job—your pardon for speaking of it as such, Your Highnesses, my lords—but a savvy criminal. His plan would have succeeded if they hadn’t been surprised by Master Corentin’s magic, which means they were watching Lord Bastien and following him, learning his habits. He and his compatriots were likely also the ones who killed Gabin. The alternative doesn’t make sense.” Marcus’s gaze was steady, his voice calm, as if discussing such things was commonplace for him, and perhaps it was.

  Bastien couldn’t suppress the chill that ran down his spine at Marcus’s words. He still didn’t know much about who Marcus was and what he did for Philip. Perhaps it was best that way.

  “I can’t believe such a man would take on a job like this and not find everything he could about his employer,” Marcus continued. “Even if he couldn’t find a name, he would gather what information he could from what the man said and did in his presence.”

&
nbsp; “He’s hiring men to kill. You don’t think he’d use a go-between?” Griffen asked.

  “He may have,” Loriot said. “But that only increases the number of people who could expose him.”

  “And the number of loose ends he’ll have to tie up later,” Marcus added.

  Bastien fought back another shiver and resisted the temptation to lean into Corentin’s comforting warmth. “You think he’s killing people who know, including the people who work for him?”

  “I think he’s been doing that since the beginning.” Marcus transferred his attention solely to Bastien. “He hatched a plan to kill the prince and princess and the earl and countess, but he had to make sure there were no witnesses left to tell anyone that their shipwreck wasn’t an accident. That likely included the people he paid to do the dirty work. It’s the only reliable way to keep what happened that day secret.”

  “And he’s come after me because he can’t be sure what Gabin told me?”

  “Possibly, though it’s also possible they tried to figure that out before they killed him.” Marcus’s expression turned almost apologetic. “What matters is that he contacted you, and you might believe him.”

  “So I have to be eliminated.” Bastien held his voice steady by sheer force of will.

  “But whoever this is couldn’t believe Bastien would keep it to himself,” Amory said.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Marcus said. “Nothing’s come out publicly yet, and he might have heard somehow that Lord Bastien was trying some investigating of his own. He’s tying up those loose ends. He’ll certainly be on the lookout for more of them.”

  “What do you suggest then?” Philip included both Marcus and Loriot in the question.

  “I don’t think we’ve gotten everything out of our prisoner. We’ll continue questioning him, both about his employer and his colleagues in this endeavor. I want to know everything he knows.”

  Loriot continued when Marcus stopped speaking. “I’ve coordinated with the city guard to search for the other attacker. We’re proceeding quietly, though obviously the man employing them will figure out something is wrong soon. He’ll begin to wonder what happened, and if we have them. It’s possible the one who escaped will try to contact him, if he knows how. I get the impression the one we have is the leader.”