“My pleasure and my duty, Your Highness.” Savarin inclined his head in what amounted to a bow. “I will come to the palace as soon as I’m able, if I may, and check on the spells from the woods. I’ll be able to see more there than I can feel from here, and see what other adjustments need to be made as I continue my work.”
“As long as you wait until you’re well and have Jadis’s clearance to do so,” Prince Amory said.
Savarin did his best not to start in surprise. For a moment he’d forgotten his weakness and his anxiety over whether his Talent would ever return to full strength. He might not be able to do as he’d said at all. But there was little to be gained from saying that to anyone, if he could even bring himself to say it. He didn’t want the princes to know until it became necessary. He could hardly believe he’d confided his fears to Loriot, but he attributed that to fatigue and fear and the intimacy of the night. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“And take someone with you if you do intend to work with the spells, just in case you’re wrong about their effect on you,” Prince Philip said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Savarin said. Arguing would get him nowhere at this point, and it was a small concession to make, especially since he’d had Loriot following him about and watching him use his Talent for weeks. He was almost used to it. In fact, he thought he might miss Loriot’s presence if Loriot weren’t there to loom over him while he worked. He’d have to become accustomed to working alone again.
“We’ll leave you to rest, then.” Prince Philip waved at him to stay seated while he and Prince Amory rose. “Sit. I’m sure you’ve been tired enough today by an active child and then our visit.”
“Thank you, Your Highnesses.”
“Captain, we’ll see you outside.”
Savarin almost didn’t want to know what Prince Philip saw in Loriot’s face to give him permission to stay. That Loriot didn’t argue was even more telling. But he didn’t speak until after the parlor door closed behind the princes.
“You lied to me.” Loriot’s words were spoken quietly, his voice controlled, but the statement still had the power to yank Savarin around to face him.
“I didn’t lie to you.”
“You didn’t tell me everything. When I asked about the spell, when I asked what you were going to do and if you could be hurt, you didn’t tell me that this could happen. You told me you would be fine. But you knew that wasn’t true. You knew this would happen.”
“I didn’t.” He stood to face Loriot, unwilling to have this discussion with Loriot looming over him, no matter how tired he was beginning to feel. “You heard me tell the princes—”
“I heard you talk your way around the princes, and I’m sure they did too. I’m not stupid, Savarin. I can hear what you weren’t saying. You knew.”
“I didn’t. I didn’t know, and I never thought it would be this bad. I’ve never had a reaction this severe,” he continued quickly when Loriot opened his mouth to interrupt. “It was a possibility, yes, that I would use up a lot of power and need to rest and rebuild at the end of the spell, that the exhaustion could be severe, but it was as much a possibility that I would come out of it with few consequences.”
All right so maybe he was stretching the truth with that last part, but it had been a possibility.
Loriot seemed neither convinced nor placated, his stare flat and hard. “I find that difficult to believe, but even if I did believe it, you still knew something bad could happen, something more than your being a little tired, and you didn’t tell me beforehand. You need to tell me these things.”
Savarin bristled, and he took a step toward Loriot. “This is my work, Loriot. What I do, who I am. I may have a duty to report what I do to the rulers of Tournai, and I may not have done so to their satisfaction, but I certainly do not have any obligation to report to you for approval of my work. No more than you ask me for permission to fulfill the duties of your position. Just because we share a bed does not mean you have any right to ask that of me.”
Loriot flinched as if Savarin had struck him, but his expression closed off again almost immediately, and something in Savarin sank at the sight of it. He’d gotten used to the openness of Loriot’s face, so much so he hadn’t realized how much more open Loriot had been with him until his blank mask fell back into place.
“I have to go. I can’t keep Their Highnesses waiting,” Loriot said, his voice flat.
He gaped at Loriot. “You can’t leave now. We’re in the middle of a discussion.”
“Are we? I thought you were telling me what I have no right to do. And as you said, you have no right to tell me how to do my duty as captain of the guard. I have that duty to fulfill now, so you can’t expect or tell me to stay. Good afternoon, Master Savarin.” Loriot turned on his heel and strode to the door. Savarin stood frozen, still feeling the lash of Loriot’s words. He didn’t snap out of his stupor until the parlor door closed with a decisive click. A moment later the front door to the house did the same, and Savarin knew Loriot was gone.
What he didn’t know was if Loriot would come back.
He sank down onto the couch behind him, slouching down against the cushions as his strength left him. They weren’t very comfortable cushions, but he spent very little time in this formal room. He pushed the random thought aside. He must be more tired than he’d realized if he couldn’t even focus on whether he’d just managed to drive off the man he probably loved. Or maybe it was just far too painful to think about for long. Because it was more than likely that he loved Loriot, and if Loriot was gone… he didn’t know what he felt. He didn’t want to know.
But neither could he let Loriot dictate what Savarin did and did not do, especially in his practice of magic. Loriot didn’t care for magic, didn’t understand it, that much was clear, but Savarin had trained and worked and studied for most of his life to become the most powerful and learned sorcerer in Tournai, and he wouldn’t let Loriot shackle his ability to use his Talent and knowledge to continue to learn and experiment. No, he couldn’t do that, not ever.
But apparently the visits he’d received today and the unexpected argument had truly sapped the strength he’d been doing his best to build, because he couldn’t even become properly upset over Loriot trying to restrict his ability to perform magic. He could barely move, let alone think.
Fine, he could be angry about it later and upset about Loriot turning and walking out of his house even though he said he’d be there for him, that he wanted to take care of him. Pain shivered through him at the thought, but it was still blunted. He pushed it aside, let himself wallow in the fatigue making his head swim.
He’d rather be on a more comfortable piece of furniture. But there was no more comfortable chair in this parlor. He glanced at the thick carpet laid over the polished marble floor. He’d bought it in Kavalas because he liked its vivid geometric print. It looked soft. But no, he wasn’t going to curl up on the floor to sleep and be found by a maid who came looking. No, he wouldn’t sleep yet. He would just stay here on this hideously uncomfortable couch until he felt he could make it up to his bedchamber unassisted, and there he would sleep.
The rest could wait.
Chapter 29
“YOU WERE right. About Captain Loriot and Savarin,” Amory elaborated when Philip turned a questioning look on him.
“With the amount of time Captain Loriot spent at Savarin’s bedside in the infirmary, it seemed likely they’d formed some sort of relationship.”
“But you jumped to them being lovers and not just close friends.”
“The day of the spell, the way Captain Loriot looked at Savarin made me wonder. With the way Captain Loriot behaved after, I thought it likely.” Philip settled back against the cushions of the carriage seat and pulled Amory against his side. He was almost positive that was the only reason Philip had agreed to take the carriage instead of ride. Not that he objected to Philip’s plan.
“I didn’t notice. I was too worried
about you.” He flinched away from examining the memories of that day and snuggled closer to Philip. The fear from that day was far too fresh in his mind. “Today though….”
“Yes. There’s something going on between them, something serious if Loriot’s son being there was any indication, but I don’t think all is going well.”
There had been far too much tension in that room when they’d begun discussing the risks in the spell to Savarin, and while Captain Loriot hadn’t overtly displayed his upset when he’d followed them out of the house after a few moments, the signs had been there. “I don’t think Captain Loriot knew about the danger Savarin was in either.”
“No, and I don’t believe for a minute that Savarin didn’t know this was possible.”
Amory nodded. “Would you have not allowed it had you known?”
“I don’t know. We would have had to consider it, but we should have had that opportunity. It wasn’t Savarin’s decision to make alone.” Philip sighed. “It’s done now. As long as Savarin doesn’t do the same again, we’ll leave it.”
“And Captain Loriot and Savarin?”
“Wish them well and hope they resolve the argument between them.”
Amory nodded. “I hope they can. For Captain Loriot to be so upset, he must care for Savarin. And did you see Savarin with his son? Alain was so taken with him, and Savarin was different with him than he usually is.”
Philip smiled. “A whole new side to him.”
“Alain didn’t seem intimidated at all. I almost envy him that.” Amory laughed along with Philip, not at all insulted to share in the laughter at his own expense. Savarin’s sheer presence had always been a bit intimidating to Amory. Though he’d gotten over much of his trepidation over years of knowing Savarin, he doubted he’d ever be entirely easy around him.
“I liked seeing Savarin with a child. I’d like to see how Savarin and Captain Loriot are together when they’re not arguing.”
“You just want to see everyone happy. I don’t think anyone realizes how much of a romantic you are.”
“And it’s best it stays that way.”
“No one will hear it from me,” Amory said, hearing the fondness in his own voice. He liked Philip’s romantic side, and he liked that he was one of very few who knew of it. He stretched up and kissed Philip, lingering there a moment before sinking back down to rest his head on Philip’s shoulder for the rest of the short trip back to the palace.
LORIOT ARRIVED back at Savarin’s house later than he’d planned. Darkness had fallen, the lamps along the streets lit, the moon risen in the sky. It was a warm night, and the streets were still crowded as he made his way to Savarin’s house from his own. He’d been caught up at the palace longer than he had any day since he’d brought Savarin home, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t allowed it to happen. Not that he wanted to admit that to anyone, especially Joceline, who had progressed from odd looks to asking repeatedly why he wasn’t hurrying to Savarin’s when he stopped in at home. He couldn’t really blame her. Since Savarin passed out after the spell, Loriot had rushed to his side at every opportunity.
Tonight he’d played with Alain, who had been unhelpfully full of stories of Savarin, and dined with Joceline and Oriana. He’d considered sleeping at home, but Joceline’s questions were becoming a little too pointed, and he’d promised. As angry—and hurt—as he was, he still hated the idea of breaking a promise to Savarin. Especially with Savarin’s nighttime confessions still ringing in his mind.
He found Savarin’s house quiet, but that state wasn’t a change from any other time he’d been there. If his own home had been this quiet, he’d be terrified that something horrible had happened.
A maid appeared and offered to bring him dinner. He declined but asked where Savarin was.
“Master Savarin is in his bedchamber, Captain.”
“Thank you.”
She dipped into a quick curtsy and hurried off, and he turned his steps toward the stairs and Savarin’s bedchamber. He had been hoping to hear that Savarin was in the sitting room, perhaps, or anywhere else—his study or library. Savarin had been telling him how much he wanted to get back to his work, even if it was only his studies and not actual practice of magic. Loriot wouldn’t have been surprised to find him in one of those rooms, defying Jadis’s orders to rest.
Instead Savarin was apparently in his bedchamber, the last place Loriot wanted to go when he was still so angry and frustrated.
But that didn’t stop him from moving quickly up the stairs and down the corridor, his agitation driving his long strides. He’d pushed his reaction to what he’d heard Savarin say to the princes, to what Savarin had said to him, from his mind as best he could as he went about his work all day, but it came flooding back now that he’d returned to Savarin’s house. That Savarin hadn’t told him of the risks to himself, that he didn’t think he had any need to when he loved Savarin… but then Savarin had never said he loved Loriot in return. He shoved aside the hurt at what that probably meant. He’d rather wallow in the anger, at least for the moment, if he was to confront Savarin.
The bedchamber door was closed, and Loriot entered without knocking, something he’d gotten used to doing since he arrived. He was stepping across the threshold when he hesitated, his thoughts catching up and telling him that perhaps it wasn’t his place to walk in without announcing himself anymore. But he didn’t stop. Too late already, and he was much too frustrated to care.
He stopped so abruptly once inside the bedchamber that he nearly lost his balance.
The room was dim, lit only by the faint light filtering in through the windows. Savarin was sleeping on the bed, his long limbs curled up, drawing his body into as tight a ball as a man of Savarin’s stature could manage. He hadn’t stirred at the door opening or at Loriot’s headlong rush into the room. The open curtains told him Savarin had fallen asleep before dark, and either hadn’t thought he would sleep so long or had been too tired to bother closing the drapes.
Was Savarin all right? Had he relapsed? Was that even possible? Savarin had seemed to be getting stronger each day. Seeing him so still had cold fear running through Loriot’s veins.
He crept closer to the bed, stepping softly though his footfalls were already muffled by the thick carpets. Savarin was breathing—Loriot hadn’t realized just how worried he was that Savarin might not have been until he confirmed he was. Savarin was still fully dressed in the same clothes he’d worn earlier to meet with the princes and amuse Alain and argue with Loriot, but Loriot wouldn’t think about that last part at the moment. Savarin had only removed his shoes before lying down on top of the blankets, and the shoes themselves were half under the bed, as if they’d been kicked off as Savarin sat. Loriot had never seen Savarin treat his clothing so haphazardly, and that too worried him.
Was Savarin cold? Was that why he was curled up so tightly? The room felt comfortable to Loriot, but perhaps not to Savarin. He grabbed the blanket folded on the chest at the foot of the bed and spread it over Savarin. He hesitated; he wanted to put a hand on Savarin’s forehead to check for fever as he would for Alain. He didn’t know why Savarin would have a fever—he hadn’t been sick in that way—but perhaps he’d become ill in his weakness. He stood over Savarin, looking down at his face, deliberating.
Before he could come to a decision, Savarin’s eyelids fluttered, and his eyes opened. They were hazy at first, but he blinked several times and focused on Loriot. “You’re here.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t think you were coming back.” Savarin spoke in little more than a mumble, but Loriot understood him, heard the emotion in those words, and felt a pang of pain despite his lingering anger.
“I said I would.” He gave in and brushed his hand over Savarin’s forehead, feeling the temperature—slightly warm but not terribly so—and pushing silky hair back in one movement. “I promised.”
“I wasn’t sure that mattered after today.”
He sighed. Savarin was going to kill
him talking like this. He was going to have to work to hold on to his anger. “It matters. How are you feeling? Have you eaten?”
Savarin shook his head against the pillow. “Tired.”
Worry rippled through Loriot again when the single word came out slurred. “Then sleep. Unless you’re hungry? No? All right, sleep, then. You can eat when you wake up.”
“Don’t we need…?”
“We’ll talk in the morning, when you’re feeling better. I’ll still be here.” Savarin looked inclined to argue, but Loriot stroked a hand over his hair. “Sleep.”
He kept stroking Savarin’s hair, just the way he would Alain’s if he were trying to soothe him to sleep. Silly perhaps, but Savarin’s breathing soon evened out, his features relaxing back into sleep. Loriot kept up the rhythmic motion for a few moments more. Just to make sure Savarin was back to sleep, though he knew he was. As much as Loriot didn’t want to admit it, he was doing this for himself, for his own need to be close to Savarin despite their argument.
Enough. He stopped and stepped back from the bed. Savarin was asleep, seemingly deeply again, and probably wouldn’t wake until morning. Still he made sure the water pitcher on the bedside table was full in case Savarin woke thirsty in the night, and then he left the bedchamber. The sitting room next door was dark as well, so he lit enough candles to see by and settled himself in a chair that he was rapidly beginning to think of as his with the book he’d left unfinished.
He should go home. They wouldn’t be able to talk before morning at the earliest, but Savarin had looked so surprised, so hopeful, when he realized Loriot had come back, it made Loriot ache. It was probably fatigue and maybe even a slight fever making Savarin so open, but that didn’t mean Loriot had the heart to break a promise and leave. He sighed and slouched deeper into the cushions of the chair.
The Sorcerer’s Guardian Page 27