Their first day’s travel was smooth and quiet—both in road conditions and in their own attitudes. They barely spoke, but Savarin found the silence comfortable, and he let his mind ponder what he knew of the spells and what would come when they arrived in Jumelle. It was only when they reached the inn that night that he thought about sleeping arrangements. He and Loriot hadn’t shared a bed the two nights they stayed with Loriot’s family, and Loriot had made no mention of wanting to. Savarin assumed the affair was over, which was probably for the best.
Or he had assumed that, until Loriot only asked for one bedchamber at the inn that first night, and proceeded to push Savarin onto the bed as soon as they were in it. They spent each night of the journey back to Jumelle in a shared bed, and Savarin let himself relax on those nights and enjoy himself. Even he had to admit there was little more he could do with the materials he had with him, so studying his books at night would get him nowhere but more frustrated. Thinking about the problem during the day was making him frustrated enough.
He was turning it round and round in his head all over again on their last day of travel. “We never found out anything more about who attacked us,” he said.
Loriot jerked slightly in the saddle, and Savarin realized they hadn’t spoken in the hour or so since lunch. Savarin was pleased that Loriot didn’t mind him lapsing into silence but seemed just as willing to make conversation without pushing to fill the quiet for no reason.
“We probably never will,” Loriot said. “I spoke to the commander of the closest army post before we left, and he said they are tracking bandits in the area, so we might just have run afoul of them.”
“We might have.” Or they might have been targeted for his work.
“Who else could it have been? Whoever has been causing the weak spots in the protection spells?”
“Maybe.” They’d spoken of this already, if briefly, when they decided to return to Jumelle.
“Who do you think caused the weak spots?”
He didn’t bother contradicting Loriot and saying he didn’t know for sure that it had been done deliberately. Because he knew it had been, even if he didn’t have conclusive proof. “No way of knowing, not as things stand now, with the information we have.”
“Ardunn” was Loriot’s grim suggestion.
“Possibly. Probably, if they were made recently.” Tournai had peaceful, good relationships with its surrounding neighbors now, but it hadn’t always. Amaranta or Elleri, Tournai’s neighbor to the east, could have tested the barriers at some point in the past. But the empire of Ardunn was most likely to be behind it now. The empire and its power-mad emperor had been trying to find a way into Tournai for a while. “No way of knowing.”
“But can you fix them? We don’t need them weakened and Ardunn punching through with a magical attack. There would be no stopping them if they overpowered us with magic and managed to get even part of their army here.”
Savarin nodded. Quirks of geography—an impassable mountain range one of them—made it extremely difficult for Ardunn to invade them, but it didn’t stop the emperor from looking for ways to subvert Tournai from within. A weakness in their magical protections could be disastrous if Ardunn discovered it. “We wouldn’t be able to defeat Ardunn’s army in battle. I don’t believe anyone could right now. If the empire ever falls, it’ll be from within.”
“Yes. But our responsibility is protecting our people. We need to keep Ardunn out of Tournai.”
“Agreed. I’ll strengthen the barriers.” He frowned and let his focus turn inward. “I just need to figure out what they’re anchored to. I think that will tell me how to get into the spells and let me work with them. It has to be something more than just the borders of Tournai. Even an exceptionally powerful spell—which these spells are—would have faded somewhat after all these years, and it hasn’t. So I must be missing something.”
“What could it be anchored to?”
He shook his head, hating the frustration and bafflement that plagued him. “I wish I knew. The first thought with a protection spell is a location, a thing. Walls, a border. But it can’t only be that.”
“What kind of spells do last? Not protection spells necessarily, but others.”
He wanted to snap that none did, but obviously this one had. “I’ve never found another spell that’s lasted this long.”
“What about some of the magic at the palace? I don’t know much about it, but as I understand it, there are spells that have been in place since the palace was originally built.”
He speared Loriot with a sharp look. “What kind of spells?”
“I don’t know the details, but I know that there are certain spells that only allow members of the royal family into particular areas for instance. You’d have to ask Lord Etan, or perhaps Prince Philip.”
Impatience whipped through him, but he fought it back. Loriot was no sorcerer; there was no reason for him to know more about the spells. Savarin forced himself to think about the idea of such spells instead. “I didn’t know about them. I wonder how they remain strong.” He ran through ideas in his head, but nothing really made sense. “Something to do with the royal family perhaps? Could the spells be tied into them? But there’s no magic in the royal family, and I would have thought that would be necessary. What? What’s wrong?”
Loriot had stiffened in his saddle, but he shook his head. “Nothing.”
He studied Loriot, but nothing else was forthcoming from Loriot and nothing seemed to be happening around them, so he let it go. “I’ll have to think on it. Thank you for giving me a new idea,” he added absently.
“You’re welcome.” Surprise rippled through Loriot’s voice, but when he spoke again, it was gone. “We’re close enough to Jumelle to make it without stopping for the night, but we’d have to ride after dark to do it.”
Loriot’s suggestion surprised him. Loriot had been against traveling after dark previously. Was he trying to end this trip more quickly for some reason? As much as Savarin wanted to get back and get to work, he wouldn’t mind one more night with Loriot before their arrival in Jumelle put an end to their affair. Even if they could make it last longer, would Loriot want to? Would Savarin?
“Savarin?” Loriot’s voice broke him from his thoughts.
“Oh. Yes?”
“Do you want to ride for Jumelle today?”
“I suppose we should. If you have no objections.”
“None.”
It was well after dark when Jumelle’s walls loomed before them. All of the city gates except for the main gate were closed at this time of night, so they rode there. The gate guards peered at them in the lamplight and snapped salutes when they recognized Loriot. Even without a uniform, Loriot was instantly recognizable to those he commanded.
They were through the gate after only a moment and winding their way through the quiet streets. Savarin was suddenly struck by a longing to be home—not just for his books and his research, but for his own bed after a succession of inns with beds of varying quality. His bed was large—long enough for his tall body—and just soft enough. But it would be empty.
Savarin hadn’t realized until that moment how used to sleeping beside Loriot he’d become on their journey in so short a time. But then, in his prior affairs with men or women, he’d never spent so many nights in a row sleeping with someone. It was a different experience, and one he found himself reluctant to have end.
“It’s late,” he said, venturing the words before he could think about it any longer. Or at all. “Do you want to stay the rest of the night with me?”
The steady white light of the lamps lining the street gave him a clear view of the surprise on Loriot’s face. He wanted to take back the suggestion immediately. If he wanted his own bed, Loriot would surely want the same, and even if Loriot didn’t, there was no telling if Loriot would want to spend the rest of the night with him. Their affair seemed to be one that had an end they’d tacitly agreed upon from the beginning, and the end had arrived.
Just because he was inexplicably reluctant for it to be over didn’t mean Loriot would be.
But he couldn’t take the question back without looking even more foolish. He’d have to wait for Loriot to refuse him and then show neither disappointment nor embarrassment.
After a disturbingly long period of silence, Loriot said, “All right.”
Hardly a rousingly enthusiastic response, but he’d be content with an affirmative answer. The response got him what he wanted after all. He led them through the streets to his house.
Chapter 17
LORIOT STOOD on the balcony attached to Savarin’s bedchamber and looked out over the garden behind the house. It was a peaceful scene in the morning light. Savarin’s house was in a quiet part of Jumelle to begin with, but the high walls surrounding the house and garden ensured privacy, giving Savarin his own protected oasis in the middle of the city.
Before last night, Loriot had only been to Savarin’s house a handful of times, and even then he hadn’t gone much beyond the front door. He’d seen the size and grandeur of the house, the formality of the entry hall and the large parlor off of it, but he hadn’t understood the luxury he’d find throughout. Savarin had spared no expense in decorating the house to his taste and including every comfort. He didn’t know if Savarin had bought the house and renovated it to his specifications or built it, but either way, it was a showplace of art and architecture with every magical convenience to be had, all wrapped in a package of sumptuous fabrics and thick carpet.
He leaned against the balustrade, propping himself on his arms and feeling the borrowed dressing gown pull across his shoulders. He’d taken it when he woke. The dark red silk was soft against his skin, but it was too long and a little too tight in the shoulders. He had to be careful not to trip or to rip the fabric, but he hadn’t wanted to rummage in his bags and wake Savarin. They’d dumped all of their bags just a few feet inside the door to Savarin’s bedchamber when they’d arrived the night before as they’d pulled each other toward the bed.
He’d thought he’d been exhausted from the day’s long ride, but exhaustion didn’t stop him from stripping Savarin and falling into the large bed with him. He’d felt almost as if they were stealing time. Their affair was something he’d assigned a time limit to in his mind, and that he didn’t want it to end now that the time had arrived surprised him. He hadn’t expected Savarin of all people to get under his skin.
An arm snaked around his waist and a firm body pressed against his back. Loriot stiffened but then immediately relaxed back into Savarin, letting himself enjoy the contact.
“Why are you awake?” Savarin asked, his voice sleep-roughened. “It’s too early after such a late night.”
“I’m too used to waking early.” A pang of regret tightened his insides. If he’d gone home last night, he would have been woken up with Alain bounding into his room to welcome him home. He should have gone home. What was the point of spending one last night with Savarin, as enjoyable as it had been, when this—whatever this was—was about to end and he had a child at home waiting for him?
“I could probably break you of that habit with enough time.” Savarin settled his chin on Loriot’s shoulder. The action sent a shudder through Loriot that he did his best to suppress. He wasn’t used to Savarin being so casually tactile out of bed.
Loriot smiled and continued to watch morning light brighten the garden. “I doubt it, but it’s too bad you won’t have time to try.”
“Why not?”
“We didn’t mean for this to last after we got back, did we?”
“We didn’t, but why not?”
Now Loriot did turn his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Savarin’s face and see what he was thinking, but he didn’t know how to respond.
“Is there some reason we shouldn’t continue seeing each other even though we’re back?” Savarin slid out from behind Loriot, his body dragging against Loriot’s as he moved and setting off little fires. He leaned against the balustrade at Loriot’s side, facing him.
“We’re back in Jumelle with all the responsibilities that go along with that.”
“Yes,” Savarin said, his gaze steady on Loriot. “And I don’t expect that we’d spend every moment together. But that doesn’t mean we can’t see each other, spend a night together when we can.”
“I suppose.”
Savarin smiled with just an edge of wickedness that made his handsome face even more attractive. Loriot hadn’t thought that was possible. “You can’t tell me you’ve never carried on an affair before. I won’t believe it.”
He laughed. “I can’t imagine why. You’re the handsome one.”
“Of course I am.” The pretend lofty manner fell away. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t have gotten to this point without some idea of your appeal.”
He blinked at Savarin for a moment, his mind utterly blank. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’d like to keep seeing each other this way instead of ending it before it’s run its course.”
He’d had affairs before, certainly, though they’d been few since Alain was born and Loriot had been promoted to guard captain. Too much else in his life was far more important than fleeting pleasures. But he’d enjoyed Savarin’s company these last weeks, and he wasn’t ready for it to end. Perhaps letting it run its course and enjoying the time they had together, however long that turned out to be, would be the better choice. “Yes, I think I’d like that.”
“Good.” Savarin leaned over and kissed him lightly. “Now come back to bed, and let me show you why staying in bed past dawn is preferable.”
“I have to go home and then to the palace.”
“I have to go to the palace too, but it’s hardly past dawn. Come to bed for a while longer, and then we’ll start our day properly.”
Duty and responsibility tugged on him, urging him to leave, but he was here already; a little longer surely couldn’t hurt. He probably gave in to temptation a little too quickly, but he wasn’t going to beat himself up over it. “Let’s go back to bed, and you can try to convince me that sleeping later is better.”
“I didn’t say anything about sleeping.”
SAVARIN MADE his report to the princes and Lord Etan that afternoon. He didn’t see Loriot while he was at the palace and was irked at himself for his disappointment. His previous affairs hadn’t broken into his thoughts while he worked. Of course he hadn’t had a liaison with someone he might see in the course of his work—he generally kept the two well separate—but he couldn’t let it interfere with his work. Or Loriot’s. He’d practically promised Loriot it wouldn’t.
He kept his report succinct and outlined his plans to concentrate his research on finding a way into the spells. Finding what the spells were anchored to would give him a way into them, he was almost positive. But he made himself sound much more confident than that with the princes and Lord Etan.
He didn’t linger after his meeting, didn’t allow himself to entertain thoughts of finding Loriot and stealing a few moments. For all he knew, Loriot wasn’t even there to begin with. He could have been at the royal guard training grounds or anywhere else in the city. Savarin’s time was best spent elsewhere working.
Over the course of the next couple of weeks, he could have wished for some help with that work, which wasn’t something he did often. Or ever. He preferred to work alone, but he was spending hours in the university’s vast libraries, scouring them for references to the protection spells, however minor those references might be. He could have used someone to assist him with the research, with combing through the enormous amount of books and papers that might hold something useful.
He’d loved those libraries since the very first moment he’d walked through the doors into the places filled with glossy wood and the scent of books. The magical workrooms had been—and still were—his favorite places, but so much knowledge existed, waiting to be found, in those libraries. When he’d first seen them, he’d still been unused to the luxury and t
he access he would have. However jaded he acted, he still remembered the wonder of it vividly.
He was happy to research in them, even for the hours he spent there, but there were times the task seemed overwhelming. Lord Etan was doing the same in the royal family’s archives, which Savarin hadn’t known existed before Lord Etan told him of them. He wanted nothing more than to see what treasures of knowledge might be within their walls, but they were apparently protected by strong magic that only allowed in members of the royal family, and only certain members at that. He wondered if that spell had been set by the same sorcerers who conceived of the protection spells. He’d like to study it out of nothing but curiosity, but he didn’t think he would ever be allowed to do so. And he certainly didn’t have time to think about it, in spite of how interesting a spell it was.
As much as he wanted someone to help with the research, there was no one he—or the royal family—trusted enough to help him, not with something so important and sensitive. So he soldiered on alone, frustrating as it was. Even more frustrating because all he could do was chase mentions of the protection spells through books, most unhelpful, some insubstantial as smoke. Some were tantalizing but ultimately useless. He’d originally gone out to look at the spells themselves because he wasn’t finding anything in his initial research in the libraries. It made sense that little would be available to the general public, even to the university, when the spells were so important to the security of Tournai. Knowledge of how they were set could lead to knowledge of how to break them.
But it was frustrating for him as he tried to find a way to strengthen them.
The anchor, what the spells were anchored to, was the key. He was sure of it. If he could figure out what it was, he could use it to get into the spells. He’d rather have some knowledge of how they were set, but he wouldn’t be too greedy and ask for that too. No, he would. He wanted very much to stumble upon something that would tell him exactly that, because while he could figure it out—he would figure it out—the information would make his life far easier.
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