Father frowned. “Bandits probably. The army has been rounding them up as best they can, but they seem to be darting in and out of Amaranta to avoid capture in either country.”
Loriot nodded and stayed silent. It probably had been bandits, but he couldn’t discount the possibility that their attackers had come after them specifically because of Savarin’s work, however remote the possibility was. Beata stood with a rustle of skirts and began clearing up the things she’d used to tend him. A maid appeared and took the bowl of water and carried it away.
Beata brushed a kiss to his cheek. “It’s good to see you, and I’m glad you’re all right. I’m going to make sure your bedchamber is made up, and then I’ll check on your friend.” She followed the maid away.
“I take it you weren’t on your way for a visit.” Father fixed him with a sharp gaze that would have cut through any lie Loriot chose to tell.
“I would have loved to, but Savarin and I are on a mission for Prince Philip and Prince Amory.” He reached for his shirt and frowned at the blood and the rip in the sleeve. But he shrugged into it anyway. He couldn’t walk through the house half naked. “It’s extremely important, and we had to concentrate on that, Father.”
Father’s eyebrows rose. “Savarin? The man currently upstairs isn’t Savarin the sorcerer, is he?”
“He is.”
“The most powerful sorcerer in the country—perhaps in more than this country—is in my home?”
“Yes,” Loriot said slowly.
Father sat back in his chair, looking stunned. “Really? The sorcerer, here.”
He studied Father, unsure of what to make of his reaction. “Yes. And I should see how he’s faring.”
“Of course,” Father said, sounding a little shaken. “See the healer yourself while you’re up there.”
“I will, but I’m fine.” He took the back stairs up two floors to where they’d put Savarin in a guest bedchamber two doors down from Loriot’s own. The healer, a man slightly older than Loriot’s parents, who had been the healer in this area since Loriot was a child, was just coming into the corridor as Loriot arrived.
“Captain Loriot, it’s good to see you. Though I could have wished for better circumstances.” Clovis’s face brightened with a kind smile. “I hear you’re my next patient.”
“That’s what I hear as well, Healer Clovis, but I’m not badly injured.”
“I can see that, but let’s have a look at you anyway.”
Loriot glanced at Savarin’s door. “I wanted to look in on Savarin first.”
“He’s sleeping.” Clovis gestured for him to lead the way so he walked to his own bedchamber with Clovis following.
“How is he?”
Clovis placed his bag down on the table inside the bedchamber and motioned for Loriot to sit. “Take off your shirt.”
Seeing no way of getting information about Savarin without following Clovis’s orders—the danger of being around someone who’d treated all his childhood injuries and illnesses—he sat in the indicated chair and stripped out of his shirt.
Clovis set about unwrapping the bandage from his arm. “Master Savarin will be fine. The wound wasn’t life-threatening, but the blood loss on top of his use of magic tired him more than either would have alone. I healed the wound and helped him to sleep to let his energy levels return. I doubt he’ll wake for several hours.”
“But he’ll be well when he wakes?” Loriot winced when Clovis probed the wound on his arm.
“He will. And you will too. You’d be fine to let this heal on its own, but I assume you’ll want to get on the road again soon, and I don’t want you to reopen it. I’ll lay a healing on it that will accelerate your body’s own healing time and ward off infection.”
“Thank you, Healer Clovis.”
“You’re welcome. Be still for a moment.”
Loriot went still and silent as the healer did his work. He didn’t have a trace of Talent—no one in his family did—so he couldn’t feel even a hint of the magic of the healing. As always he had to sit quietly and wait for Clovis to tell him it was done. He’d learned patience to do so over the years.
“Finished,” Clovis said finally. “By morning it shouldn’t even ache.”
Loriot craned his neck to see his arm. The wound no longer looked fresh but several days old and well on its way to being healed. It no longer hurt the way it had either. He thanked the healer again.
Once he was alone, he sighed and leaned back against the closed door, teased by the memory of what he and Savarin had done against a door not so long ago. Savarin would be all right, which was a relief but didn’t negate Loriot’s feelings about his being injured in the first place. Something Loriot had been specifically sent on this trip to prevent. And he didn’t even have a way of finding out why they’d been attacked. Had it just been bandits looking for their valuables? Or had the attack been directed at Savarin? Whatever the reason was, he would have to reevaluate their plans from here on out. He needed to keep Savarin safe and allow him to complete his work.
He needed to keep Savarin safe, work or not.
With a deep breath, he pushed himself away from the door and went to his bags, which someone had brought up and left near the wardrobe. His bedchamber looked exactly as it had when he left home over fifteen years ago; his parents had left it to wait for his too infrequent visits. It looked as if a maid had changed the bedclothes and run a dust cloth over the furniture while he was being tended in the kitchen, preparing the room for his unexpected stay. He rummaged for clothes and took them across the hall to the bathing room.
After bathing and dressing, he went to Savarin’s bedchamber. He opened the door and peeked inside, but just as Clovis said, Savarin was sleeping. Loriot should’ve left—his family likely waited downstairs, eager to see him—but instead he walked into the room and close to the bed. Savarin slept peacefully. Loriot had shared a bed with Savarin enough by now to be able to tell when he was deeply asleep. The bedcovers had slipped, leaving Savarin’s shoulders bare. He was tempted to pull them back farther and check to make certain Savarin’s wound was, in fact, healed, but he didn’t want to disturb Savarin, and he knew Clovis wouldn’t lie to him. He didn’t know why he was so worried over Savarin, except for his guilt that Savarin had been injured while Loriot was watching him.
Almost without realizing what he was doing, he reached out a hand and brushed Savarin’s silky, pale hair off his forehead. Savarin made a soft sound, and Loriot snatched his hand back. He watched for a moment, but Savarin didn’t wake.
What was he doing?
He left the bedchamber and strode down the corridor, this time taking the main stairs down. He followed the sound of voices to his father’s library, which had always been a favorite room of all of theirs. His family was inside—his mother and father, his older brother, Becan, and Beata and their children. His nephews and niece were growing up fast, both boys in their early teens already and his niece not far behind. They still greeted him with hugs and laughter, just as they had when they were younger, though, and it warmed his heart.
“I don’t have gifts for you, you know,” he teased them, but they only laughed. He felt bad that he didn’t have something for them. He tried to bring something when he visited, or send gifts up to them.
They spoke for a long time, exchanging news of the family here and Joceline and Alain in Jumelle. “I worry about your sister in Jumelle. I’m glad she’s with you, but I wish she would settle down,” Mother said after a while.
It was an old complaint, and one that annoyed Joceline. “She is settled, Mother.”
“All right. I wish she would marry, then.”
“Horace’s son still asks about her,” Father added. He’d suggested many prospective spouses to Joceline over the years, but to his credit, he’d never pushed her.
“He’s bound to be disappointed. She’s committed to Oriana,” Loriot said.
“Then she should marry the girl. It’s been long enough. Your mother w
ants a wedding for her daughter.”
Loriot bit back a laugh. “I’ll let her know you said so.”
Soon after, dinner was ready. Mother and Beata left with the children, but Father held him behind. He glanced between Father and Becan. “What’s wrong?”
“We want to make sure you’re all right, son.”
“I’m fine. I told you it was a minor wound, and Clovis took care of it.”
“You’re traveling with the princes’ favorite sorcerer on a mysterious mission,” Father said.
Loriot wondered why he still felt a bit like a child called to account for his actions with his father even though he knew Father was only concerned for him. “I can’t tell you what we’re doing. I’m sorry.”
“We wouldn’t ask,” Becan said. “Of course.”
“It does seem strange for you to be with Master Savarin,” Father said. “You’ve always been… wary of magic.”
“What are you saying?” Loriot asked. He no longer had any idea what was happening.
“I’m saying that you’ve never been comfortable with magic. Avoiding it when you could. Studying how to protect against it.”
“I’ve also studied ways in which it can be used to protect people.” It was his duty to use everything possible to protect the royal family from harm. And he’d learned even more about magic from Savarin on this trip.
“I thought you’d be uncomfortable traveling with Master Savarin especially if he’s performing magic. Which I assume he is, because what else would he be doing for the princes?” Becan waved a hand at Loriot. “I’m not asking, but it’s a valid assumption.”
He nodded, conceding that it was. “I’m not uncomfortable traveling with Savarin. It wouldn’t matter if I was, because the princes ordered it, but I’m not. Savarin is a good man and a friend.” The word slipped out, and Loriot certainly meant it, but he’d never thought of Savarin as a friend before, just someone he had a cordial and respectful working relationship with. He wouldn’t hesitate to call Savarin a friend now, even after their affair ended. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
Father and Becan studied him for a long moment as if weighing the truthfulness of his statement. He wanted to roll his eyes at their protectiveness. He wasn’t a child. He was an adult and the captain of the royal guard. But he supposed his father and older brother would always see him as a child in some respects. Annoying as that was.
“All right. Let’s go in to dinner.” Father put an arm around his shoulders as they walked toward the library door. “Don’t blame us for worrying about you, son. It’s only because we care. Now tell me more about how my grandson is.”
Chapter 16
SAVARIN WOKE slowly and confused. It took him several moments to shake off sleep and remember what happened and where he was. Everything came back in a flood, and he took inventory of his physical state. No pain anywhere, and he wasn’t tired any longer. But he was groggy.
“I hate it when healers put me to sleep.”
“Healer Clovis said you needed it.”
Savarin flew up to a sitting position. His head swam for a second but settled quickly. Loriot was watching him from near the door, concern on his face and a tray in his hands. “I didn’t realize you were there.” And he wouldn’t have grumbled about healers if he had.
“I assumed not.” Amusement tinged Loriot’s words. “You missed dinner. I brought you up some food. How are you feeling?”
“Thank you. I’m fine. The healer healed me completely, even if he did knock me out.” He climbed from the bed and padded over to the table where Loriot set the food. His feet were bare, and the thin sleep pants were the only clothing he wore. Loriot watched him, but Savarin ignored the attention in favor of the roast chicken and vegetables on the plate in front of him. His confusion had faded and been replaced by awareness of his hunger. “How’s your arm?”
“Fine. It really was just a scratch. No reason for everyone to make a fuss.” Loriot took the chair across from him.
Savarin would have felt self-conscious about being watched while he ate if he hadn’t been so hungry. Then as his hunger eased, he began to think of other things. “Where are we?”
“My family’s house.”
Surprise jerked his head up. He’d seen the large house, but he hadn’t been lucid enough to ask when they’d arrived, and he’d seen no one except the healer since. “Your family? I didn’t know they lived near where we were.”
He didn’t know anything about Loriot’s family actually. But, then, Loriot knew nothing of his.
Loriot shrugged. “I didn’t see the sense in telling you since we weren’t going to see them. My father is a baron. Extremely minor nobility, but they have a decent-sized estate with good farmland here. My parents and my brother and his family live here in the house.”
“You didn’t want to see them?”
“Of course I did, but stopping would only delay us.” He shrugged again. “Or it would have. Now I’m glad we were close.”
Savarin nodded and ate a few more bites. He wasn’t sure what to do with the information that Loriot came from a noble family, however minor, but he supposed there wasn’t much to do with it. Knowing could have no effect on him or their temporary affair. Except to show him how different he and Loriot truly were.
When he finished the plate, Loriot took it from in front of him and replaced it with a smaller plate of a light, spongy cake and berries. Savarin looked at him inquiringly but didn’t refuse the offering.
“I’ve always enjoyed Cook’s sweets most of all,” Loriot said, and when Savarin took a bite of the cake, he could see why. It was as light as it looked but had a lovely flavor of spice at the same time. Loriot let him eat, though he looked as if he would rather be eating it himself. That was not going to happen.
“Do we know anything about our attackers?”
The noise that left Loriot’s mouth was pure frustration. “Nothing. Father says there have been bandits in the area, which we knew was a possibility. But we don’t know if the men who attacked us were bandits.”
“Or if they were sent by someone who heard of what we’re trying to do.”
“Yes. They were well armed and skilled, if not expert. Could be either.”
“Hmm.” Savarin sat back in his chair and looked up to the ceiling. It was unlikely that anyone had found out about their mission but not impossible. Spies had troubled Tournai in the past; that someone had found out something that should have been secret wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
“So what do we do now?”
Loriot’s question surprised him, and he looked back at Loriot to find him regarding Savarin intently. “I would have thought you’d be telling me that.”
“I have to know what you need to finish your work, and then I can plan how to keep you safe while you get it.”
He’d expected Loriot’s answer even less than the original question. But what did he need? They hadn’t traveled the whole of the border, not by far, but did he need to at this point? He wasn’t getting any new information from the protection spells this way, not anymore. If they went ahead with their journey and all continued as it was with the spells, he didn’t foresee finding anything new, except perhaps the location of any other weak areas. But would that be worth continuing when there was danger that might be directly related to his purpose?
He sighed. “We should return to Jumelle.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I need to research anyway, try to put together what I know. What I need to know.” He drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair as he thought. “What I need to do next. It’s best if we go back.”
“All right, then. We’ll leave as soon as you feel up to it.”
“You don’t want to visit with your family?”
“I do, of course, but what you’re doing is more important. I can visit another time.” Loriot leveled a glare at him before he could even open his mouth. “And don’t even suggest going back on your own, especially not now
.”
The thought had occurred to him, but arguing with Loriot would get him nowhere, even if he could take care of himself perfectly well, whereas journeying back to Jumelle together would get him a little more time in this odd affair with Loriot. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
THEY STAYED with Loriot’s family another day at Savarin’s insistence. He let Loriot think he needed a day to rest, but he didn’t. He was healed and strong enough to travel the morning after they arrived, but he got the impression that Loriot didn’t see his family very often, and he was happy to give him the time. Loriot’s family was gracious and welcoming to him, if formal and a bit distant about it.
Aside from meals, Savarin closeted himself in the bedchamber he’d been given with his notes and his books. Granted he spent most of the day cursing his lack of other books, his lack of access to Jumelle’s libraries and his own, but he did what he could nonetheless. He couldn’t stop thinking through what he’d learned from examining the protection spells, as meager as that information seemed to be. These spells had been woven by skilled, powerful sorcerers to protect Tournai and to keep others from tampering with the spells themselves, and they were still strong centuries later. He admired the work even as it frustrated him.
When they left, Savarin was still thinking, but his thoughts did nothing but chase themselves in circles. Loriot’s entire family came outside to see them off early in the morning, embracing Loriot and standing out on the steps of the house waving to him as they rode away. A glance back showed them still there as he and Loriot rounded the bend that would take them into the trees and out of sight.
They didn’t take the same route back to Jumelle as they had on the journey out. The road that ran closest to the border had been handy for their purpose, but Savarin had already done all he could along that stretch of border. On the way back to Jumelle, they traveled by a far more direct route. Since Savarin didn’t prolong their stops with the magical investigations he’d done previously, the trip also went faster.
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