Even if Griffen did, Bastien couldn’t force his brother to fulfill Bastien’s duties.
Pain rippled through Bastien, and he dropped his head into his hands, closing his eyes. Something that he couldn’t change—and knew he couldn’t change—shouldn’t hurt so much. He and Corentin would have to talk when Corentin returned. Bastien would be calm and far more articulate. He would be prepared for the discussion, would explain how he wasn’t ready to lose Corentin and how much he meant to him. He couldn’t let Corentin leave him so soon.
A traitorous part of his heart whispered that he couldn’t let Corentin leave him at all.
He silenced it ruthlessly.
A soft noise—a shoe scraping the floor—made hope rush through him in a light, joyful burst. But when he lifted his head, Corentin wasn’t standing in his doorway, ready to talk; a masked man was there, with another on his heels as he stepped into the study.
Bastien jumped to his feet. “What—”
The man in front raised a hand and murmured something, and it was as if Bastien had been smacked, though no one had touched him.
Then everything went black.
CORENTIN REMEMBERED LITTLE of the time he spent at the university once he was on his way back to Bastien’s house. He must have managed all right while there. Someone surely would have said something if he’d appeared too distracted. Certainly the dean he’d met with first wouldn’t have hesitated to do so.
He hadn’t expected the argument with Bastien earlier, hadn’t seen any warning of it. That might have been what surprised him the most. He hadn’t been thinking about an end to what he and Bastien had—but perhaps that was on purpose. Perhaps he was willfully not considering the inevitable end to their time together because he didn’t want it to end.
Such a simple realization, really. Such a difficult result to bring about.
Even if he could stay in Tournai—if he could be released from his work for his king, if he could reconcile himself to living permanently away from his home and his family, if he wanted to stay in Tournai—there was still the problem of Bastien. Bastien’s position, really, and his attitude toward it, which Corentin was coming to understand more each day. Corentin couldn’t fault him for his loyalty to his family, but he was having trouble with the absolute way Bastien approached it. He tried so hard, too hard, gripped too tight.
No matter how Bastien felt about him, it had become increasingly clear that he would walk away from him to marry a woman, likely of good family, and provide the earldom with legitimate bloodline heirs. Never had Corentin been so aware of the differences between the laws and culture of his people and those of Bastien’s. At home, it wouldn’t even be an issue—oh, there were still marriages contracted for wealth and power, but outside of that, no one had to marry to produce an heir. There were other legally recognized ways in the kingdom the dragons had built.
But the situation was far different in Tournai, and even though Prince Philip and two of his cousins, one of them a royal duke, had found their own way outside tradition and were seemingly content with the way they’d reconciled duty and desire, Bastien clung rigidly to tradition, trying so hard to fulfill each requirement of his position perfectly. It made Corentin sad, and not only for the loss of something between them, but for Bastien, who would only make himself miserable trying so hard to be perfect in the place of the father who had died too soon.
Corentin sighed as he rounded the corner and Bastien’s house came into view. He stopped and stared down the road at it. It was a nice house, more comfortable than Corentin would have expected, more of a home. He’d like to see the country estate Bastien spoke of so fondly, but that would never happen. The pain hit him in the gut, made him ache. He didn’t want what he had with Bastien to be over, not now, not for a long time. But presented with the reality of its inevitable end in Bastien’s stubbornness, Corentin didn’t think he could go on as they had been. Now that he acknowledged the end was near, he could no longer just go on as they were and enjoy their time together.
He was going to have to end this, whatever it was, and soon. Then he would have to leave Tournai. Go somewhere else, somewhere new, where he could forget the hopes and dreams that had begun to worm their way in without his permission, and start fresh. Or perhaps it was time to go home and settle there, leave the work to someone else, someone eager to see the world as he had been.
But he couldn’t leave with Bastien in danger. He’d never forgive himself if he left and something happened. And even if nothing happened, Bastien was scared—though he didn’t want anyone to know it—and Corentin couldn’t leave him alone with his fear.
He sighed and started walking again.
The guard at the front of Bastien’s house let Corentin through with only a respectful nod. Inside, Corentin shed his cloak into the hands of a waiting maid. Before he could decide whether he should go in search of Bastien or avoid dealing with the issue for a while longer, Griffen came down the stairs and stopped abruptly, staring at him.
“Everything all right?” A stupid question, considering the current situation this family found themselves in.
“You’re just getting in?” Griffen asked, voice sharp.
“Yes. Was I expected earlier? I said I’d be back in time for dinner. I don’t think I’m late.”
Griffen shook his head. “You haven’t been here all afternoon?”
“No.” Corentin frowned. “Why?”
“When did you leave?”
“A few hours ago. I had appointments at the university. What’s going on?”
“I thought you were here with Bastien, up in his bedchamber. So I didn’t think anything of it when he didn’t answer a knock. I assumed you didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“But I wasn’t here, and Bastien was in his study when I left.”
“I checked there. I checked everywhere else.”
Dread bloomed in Corentin’s gut, but what could have happened to Bastien in the house with the guards at their posts? He was probably as out of sorts from their argument as Corentin was and had decided to hide in his rooms for a while. “Then he has to be in his bedchamber.”
Corentin took the stairs two at a time, dimly aware of Griffen following him. If Corentin was so certain Bastien was fine, there was little point in hurrying to confirm it, but he didn’t stop. As he strode down the corridor, he nearly collided with Ligeia, who hopped nimbly out of the way when he didn’t stop.
“What’s going on?” she asked, but he didn’t pause to answer.
When he reached the door to Bastien’s sitting room, he didn’t bother knocking. If Bastien had ignored a knock earlier, he would only do the same again. And Corentin was sleeping in these rooms, for the time being anyway. He had the right to enter them.
But the rationalization was for nothing. Bastien wasn’t in the sitting room. Nor was he in the bedchamber or the bathing room or the dressing room. Corentin pivoted in the center of the bedchamber to face Griffen and Ligeia, who had followed him. “He isn’t here. You’re certain you checked the whole house?”
“Yes. I asked one of the maids and the housekeeper. They hadn’t seen him since lunch,” Griffen said. “This was the only place he could have been.”
“And he’s not here.”
“Tell me what’s happened.” Just a hint of fear tinged Ligeia’s demand.
“I can’t find Bastien.” Griffen bit out each word and shoved a hand through his hair, making him look even more like his brother.
“But he has to be here. The guards are here, and he can’t go out without them.”
And Bastien would not have been stupid enough to go out alone without his guards. Corentin hoped. “We’re going to look again. Ask the guards, ask all the servants. Is Mathis here?”
Griffen’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressed together. “No. He’s still at the university.”
“All right. Then ask everyone else if they’ve seen him and when.” Was it wrong that he hoped Griffen had managed to miss Bastien, that
they would find him somewhere in the house and he would call them all ridiculous for getting so worried? Not wrong, but probably deluded. “Let’s go.”
He thought Griffen might object, but he gave a sharp nod and strode off, Ligeia at his heels. They split up to search and question. Corentin went back downstairs. He stopped to ask the guard posted at the front door if he’d seen Bastien. The guard hadn’t, and he verged on alarmed when Corentin left him there with no explanation. Corentin ducked into every room he passed, asked every servant he saw. No one had seen Bastien since before Corentin left the house.
He stopped in the open doorway to Bastien’s study before walking inside. The empty room looked exactly as it had when he’d left, as far as he could tell. He hadn’t been paying close attention to the position of things on Bastien’s desk, but surely those ledgers hadn’t been moved. Bastien had stacked them there earlier when Marcus arrived to talk with him. Had Bastien worked here at all, or had he left as soon as Corentin did?
“Anything?” Griffen walked into the room behind Corentin, startling him. “I’ve found nothing. Ligeia is asking the servants.”
“No, nothing. There’s another guard in the back, right? In the garden?”
“Patrolling the garden and the stable, yes, but mostly keeping an eye on the back gate.”
“Have you looked in the garden?” Corentin asked.
“No. I looked through the windows, but I didn’t think Bastien would be out there. He doesn’t spend much time in the garden.”
“We should still look.”
They left the house through a door that let out onto the small terrace and took the few stairs down into the garden at a trot. A drizzling rain had started since Corentin’s arrival at the house, ending a streak of fine weather and slicking the brick paths beneath their feet. The garden wasn’t large, so it took them little time to ascertain that Bastien wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the stable either, but his horse was, and the stable hands hadn’t seen him that day.
Corentin ignored the frustration and sick, cold fear as they searched, trying to hold on to some kind of hope that Bastien was just tucked into some corner of the house or garden. Because if he wasn’t, Corentin had no idea what to think. Bastien might have left on his own, alone, in a stunningly stupid decision for which Corentin would berate him once he returned. If he hadn’t gone out on his own…none of the possibilities that flitted through his mind were good.
“Let’s wind around the back, near the kitchen garden and the back gate,” Griffen said. “I don’t know why Bastien would be there, but we can talk to the guard.”
Corentin agreed and followed Griffen. He hadn’t been on this part of the property. He’d barely spent any time in the rest of the garden because he’d wanted to stay close to Bastien. A line of trees and bushes screened the kitchen garden and the brick path that ran from the small stable courtyard past it to the back gate. The kitchen garden was empty. Corentin hadn’t realized how much he’d hoped to find Bastien there, in that neat little plot—irrational as that hope was—until he didn’t and disappointment nearly had him slumping.
Griffen didn’t even pause. He strode along the neat brick path, Corentin hurrying to catch up. They turned a corner, and the back gate was in front of them. Griffen skidded to a stop and looked around. “Where’s the guard?”
“We would have seen him if he was doing a patrol of the garden, wouldn’t we?” Corentin looked around as well, not that there was much to see—only the iron and wood gate that was more functional than decorative, the trees and shrubs that lined the brick path. And a brown leather boot that peeked out from beneath one of the bushes. “There. Look.”
He rushed over and saw immediately that the boot was attached to a leg. Griffen gasped behind him. They crouched together, shoving the shrubbery out of the way. It was the missing guard.
“Is he alive?” Griffen asked.
“I can’t tell. Let’s get him out.”
They tried to be as gentle as possible as they pulled the guard’s inert body onto the path. As soon as they had, Corentin searched for a pulse. “He’s alive.”
“How did this happen?”
“I don’t know.” Corentin looked the man over as best he could in the drizzling rain. “I don’t feel any injuries. No lumps on the head. There’s no blood.”
“So why is he unconscious?”
“I can think of one possibility.” Corentin looked up into Griffen’s face and forced his voice to remain steady. “Magic can be used to cause unconsciousness.”
“Magic.” Griffen looked away—not only away, but toward the gate. “The gate and the walls are all protected against intruders with magic. You can’t even get through that gate unless you live here. If someone used magic to get in through the gate, then to knock out the guard…”
The cold terror that had been nibbling at the edges of Corentin’s consciousness swept through him in an icy wave. “Bastien’s been taken.”
Chapter Seventeen
EVERYTHING MOVED BOTH frighteningly fast and frustratingly slow after that. Corentin and Griffen carried the guard back to the house. Their arrival was met with dismay. Servants took the guard from them to put him to bed. Corentin and Griffen informed the other guard of what they’d surmised had happened. He ran out to have a look at the back gate while Griffen sent word up to the palace and Loriot, and another message to the university instructing Mathis to come home at once.
Corentin paced the parlor while they waited, and Ligeia paced in the opposite direction, her skirts twining around her legs with every sharp step. Griffen leaned on the back of the couch, his hair disheveled and still damp. They didn’t talk. Corentin was too busy fighting to keep his mind from conjuring nightmares about what Bastien could be going through at that very moment.
If the worst happened, his last words to Bastien would have been that he wanted to end their relationship. The last moments they shared would have been in anger.
He sucked in a sharp breath, and his stride hitched, nearly making him stumble. Both Griffen and Ligeia looked at him, but Corentin only shook his head and resumed pacing. He wouldn’t share that with Bastien’s brother and sister. Bad enough what they themselves must be thinking, what fear they must be battling. What right did he have to burden them with his? He and Bastien were lovers, but no more than that. No matter how Corentin felt about him. No matter how much Corentin loved him.
He pulled up short again, stopping in the center of the room—Ligeia didn’t even glance at him this time, just walked around him as she paced and stared at the floor—when the realization nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. He loved Bastien. Why else would the thought of their affair ending hurt so much? It was useless because Bastien didn’t want to be with him, didn’t want to keep him in his life. But even that knowledge didn’t stop him from loving Bastien.
And now Bastien was missing. Someone had taken him from his home, someone who had been trying to kill him, and they had him now and were doing who knew what to him. Where was he? How were they ever going to find him?
Corentin hadn’t even gotten to tell Bastien that he loved him.
The arrival of Loriot and Savarin interrupted his rising panic. He turned what must have been a wild-eyed stare on them, but Loriot only raised an eyebrow. Savarin showed no reaction at all. The captain greeted them all and tried to herd Corentin, Griffen, and Ligeia into sitting. Ligeia and Griffen obeyed, sitting on a couch side by side. Corentin’s nerves wouldn’t let him sit, but he managed to stand still as Savarin and Loriot seated themselves.
“I might have asked if Lord Bastien left on his own, if it weren’t for the guard’s condition,” Loriot said. The captain’s gaze flicked to Corentin, as if to emphasize his reasoning in that thought, but he said nothing of their poor choice to ride out to the cliffs without Bastien’s guards. “When was the last time you saw him and where?”
“Lunch. We all ate in the dining room,” Ligeia said. “The three of us—Bastien, Corentin, and me. Mathis was
at the university already, and Griffen lunched out today.”
“I had a meeting and then lunch with friends,” Griffen elaborated. “I saw Bastien this morning before I left. I couldn’t find him later, after I came home.”
“And you, Master Corentin?” Loriot asked.
“Bastien met with Lord Marcus. I saw him after that. We had a discussion in his study.” Corentin hoped no one would notice his slight hesitance over what to call their argument. “I left for the university directly after. When I returned, we realized Bastien was gone.”
“We searched,” Griffen said. “We found the guard but no sign of Bastien or other indication of what happened to him.”
“We spoke to all the servants as well, and they’re all here in case you need to speak with them,” Ligeia added. “No one can remember seeing Bastien after he saw Lord Marcus out and went back to his study with Corentin.” She glanced up at him, and the others followed the direction of her gaze.
Corentin felt the snap of something inside himself under the fear and tension. “I left him in his study and went to meet with one of the university deans. Can we focus on getting him back and not staring at me as if I had something to do with this?”
Ligeia looked back down at her lap and continued to wring her hands.
“No one said you had anything to do with Lord Bastien’s disappearance,” Loriot said. “He was in his study when you left?”
“Yes.”
“Show us the study, please.”
Griffen led them from the parlor, Corentin letting him despite his desire to take action. It was Griffen’s house, and Bastien was Griffen’s brother. Corentin might love Bastien, but their relationship was not a formal or permanent one. As much as he wanted to, he had no right to force himself into the investigation of Bastien’s disappearance. Griffen stopped outside Bastien’s study and let Loriot and Savarin past into the room. Corentin crowded into the doorway with Griffen and Ligeia.
The Dragon's Devotion (Chronicles of Tournai Book 5) Page 28