The Scholar's Heart (Chronicles of Tournai Book 3)

by Antonia Aquilante

  It seemed like something he should investigate at the earliest opportunity. Perhaps he and Etan could share a truly enjoyable birthday evening. Perhaps Etan would enjoy that more than the journals, or perhaps Tristan was kidding himself. Either way, he was moving through the crowd of party guests without thinking about it anymore.

  The musicians finished the piece as Tristan’s indirect path brought him to the edge of the dance floor. He caught Etan’s eyes as the man led Meriall off the floor. So much flashed through their golden brown depths, and Tristan couldn’t quite separate it all, couldn’t even identify all of it. His stride hitched as he hesitated, wondering what it meant, wondering if he should even continue, but he kept walking. And Etan kept watching Tristan, even as he retrieved a glass of punch from a passing servant and handed it to Meriall, as she smiled at him and spoke and he responded. Etan’s gaze never left Tristan’s, not for an instant. He shivered; he’d never been the focus of such an intense stare.

  Except maybe he had. Maybe Etan had looked at him this way before, and he’d dismissed it or not realized it was significant, even though he couldn’t imagine being so oblivious.

  Barely taking his own eyes off Etan, he snagged another glass of wine—a red because he knew Etan preferred it—from a passing servant’s tray. Walking straight up to Etan, he presented him with the glass. “I thought the guest of honor might be thirsty after all that dancing.” He waited until Etan’s hand closed slowly over the glass and then turned to Meriall. “Lady Merrily, how lovely you look tonight.”

  She giggled at the nickname. He’d bestowed it on her long ago, when he first saw the sweet, happy girl beneath the veneer of perfect, noble young lady. “Thank you, Tristan.”

  “And thank you for this,” Etan said, toasting him with the wine.

  “You’re welcome. Happy birthday, Etan.” He hadn’t spoken to Etan yet tonight. He should have, but he’d been so late to the party it was surely rude. Only Amory’s friendship saved him from giving serious offense. It was doubtful Amory or Philip cared personally that he’d arrived late, but certain protocols needed to be observed in public. He much preferred not having to rely on their friendship to excuse infractions to court rules, but after lunch and several problems at the port, his day had gotten away from him and he found himself scrambling to make it to the party at all. Etan had been occupied when Tristan arrived and then dancing. This was the first opportunity Tristan had to speak to him.

  Now if he could only find a way to get Etan alone.

  “Thank you, Tristan.”

  “Are you enjoying your party?” He smiled. “Lady Merrily seems to be.”

  The siblings spoke at the same time, Meriall’s bubbling “Yes I am” blending with Etan’s lower “Of course.” They looked at each other and smiled, nearly identical smiles.

  Tristan was amused to see the resemblance between them, touched to see them share that look. Etan and Meriall didn’t look much alike otherwise, Meriall with her long pale brown hair and Etan with his thick dark locks.

  “What’s so funny?” Etan asked, and Tristan realized he was grinning. Etan was perhaps the most relaxed and open he’d been around Tristan in a long time—and he only recognized it because of the change. Tristan’s elation evaporated as quickly as it appeared when he realized Etan’s demeanor was due to Meriall and not at all to Tristan. “Tristan?”

  “You two, of course.”

  “Tristan,” Meriall exclaimed, scandalized but laughing.

  He laughed along with her, forcing himself to be as exuberant as he could. It hadn’t used to be this difficult to be light and amusing with Meriall, with anyone really—it used to be as easy as breathing, was just how he was—but the last year or so had taken its toll. He’d rather just be with Etan. Maybe he wouldn’t even ask him what was wrong; maybe they didn’t need to talk. Then Tristan wouldn’t need to act a certain way, to appear to be his old self.

  He looked up to find Etan watching him again. Did he know what Tristan was thinking?

  “Tristan, you should dance with Meriall,” Etan said as the musicians struck up the first notes of another tune. Apparently Etan did not know what Tristan was thinking, or he did and he was trying to put Tristan off. Either way, he wasn’t going to refuse.

  “I would love to dance with Meriall. May I have the honor?” He held a hand out to her.

  “Oh, yes, thank you.” Her eyes were glowing as she looked at him, he hoped just because she was enjoying the party, probably one of her first at court, and not because she was developing an infatuation with him.

  He led her out to take their place among the gathering dancers, sweeping her easily into the dance. She was graceful and skilled, but she would have had dancing lessons. Tristan’s sister—all of his siblings and him—had had dancing lessons, and they weren’t nobility or likely to attend parties at the palace. But there were parties among the wealthy merchant class as well, even as many aspired to more and higher positions. His own dancing lessons allowed him to partner Meriall as skillfully as she danced.

  But he had to look like a dark cloud among the dancers. The traditional gray he wore for Dariela’s death stood out among the bright gowns the ladies wore and the myriad colors of the men’s clothing. Meriall’s gown was a confection of rose-pink silk and ivory lace that stood out next to his stormy gray. Etan would too—he looked edible in rich ruby red with the stark white of his shirt peeking out from beneath. The bold color suited Etan, highlighting the lines of his body and heightening his dramatic coloring. Tristan liked the way he looked in it, but he thought he’d like to strip it off him even more and see what was beneath.

  He glanced back, toward where they left Etan, and found him still standing there. Watching. Watching Meriall. There was a fondness in Etan’s eyes he reserved only for her. But then Etan shifted his attention and met Tristan’s eyes again. Etan’s were still too full of emotions for Tristan to understand what was happening, but the intensity of Etan’s gaze… that he could see, could feel. He shivered from the feeling of that intense gaze on him.

  He held tight to it until the steps of the dance forced him to turn. He almost stumbled at the lost connection, like a puppet with his strings cut, but he kept himself on his feet and in step, and smiled down at Meriall, who was beaming. She obviously enjoyed dancing, and he should give her his attention while they did. He concentrated on the dance, on exchanging a few words with her here and there, but he couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at Etan whenever he could.

  Etan remained at the edge of the dance floor, though he was joined by a man Tristan didn’t know. He hadn’t even seen him before. Tristan studied him when he could without being obvious. He was tall and blond with a neatly trimmed beard. His clothes, though well-made and fitted, proclaimed him not a wealthy noble. Perhaps minor nobility or merchant class.

  But who was the man to Etan? They conversed animatedly, easily, not in a way that put to mind the kind of obligatory conversations that so often occurred at court events—and really, Tristan wouldn’t expect that kind of conversation at this party, to which only Etan’s friends and family had been invited. So this man had to be Etan’s friend, or maybe even more than a friend. Maybe, but Tristan didn’t think so just from the way they moved in relation to each other. And every so often a glance from Etan would collide with Tristan’s.

  If Etan was looking at Tristan, he wasn’t going to drag this other man off for what Tristan hoped to do with Etan later. But that didn’t mean he was going to drag Tristan off either. Or allow Tristan to drag him off.

  He didn’t get a chance to test his theory right away. He danced with Meriall and then returned her to Etan, who was engaged in conversation with more people now, some of whom looked vaguely familiar. Meriall drifted away to join another group that included her sisters and Princess Elodie, but Tristan stayed right where he was. He wasn’t letting Etan out of his sight while he looked for his opportunity. He sipped another glass of wine and let the conversation drift around him while
he tried to figure out where he’d seen Etan’s companions. They were talking about happenings at the university, something Tristan knew little about since he’d left university to take up the reins of the family business.

  From the conversation, he assumed these were people Etan knew from the university—perhaps they had been students together or were people Etan knew from delivering guest lectures, something Tristan still didn’t understand how he hadn’t heard about before Amory told him. But at some point, while the one woman in the group—she had been introduced to him as Vita—was telling a story, he realized where he’d seen them. He was almost positive they were the people Etan had been with at the Hidden Cat a few weeks ago. He caught Etan’s eye again, finding the look there unreadable. Well, if they were, he couldn’t exactly ask. He wasn’t eager to bring up whatever had happened that night—though the result of Etan’s odd bout of jealousy had been quite pleasurable. He’d like to repeat it, without the argument.

  He’d like to repeat it tonight, if he could ever tempt Etan away.

  But he wasn’t rude, nor was he insensitive enough to embarrass Etan by pulling him away from the conversation. Just as Tristan spotted an opportunity, Etan went to dance with Vita. Then Etan danced with Meriall again and each of his sisters and the princess. Etan kept looking at Tristan, but as the night wore on, Tristan wondered if Etan wasn’t checking to see if he’d given up and gone away. He almost laughed at the thought—he wasn’t going to give up on getting Etan alone.

  He drifted around the party, but still stayed close to the dance floor. He chatted with people he knew, danced with Adeline and Adora, and even Princess Elodie once. He made it as far as the thrones because he felt he should spend some time with Amory, but he always knew where Etan was. From Amory’s suspicious look, he’d seen what Tristan was up to.

  “What are you doing?” Amory asked him finally.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” He tried for innocence but knew his eyes were twinkling.

  “Yes, you do.” Amory pointedly looked at Etan, who was once again conversing with some friends. “What are you up to?”

  “Me? I’m not up to anything. You make me sound so nefarious.” He turned as guileless a look as he could on Amory, but Amory had known him almost his whole life. Pretend innocence would do nothing for him.

  And sure enough, Amory’s large brown eyes narrowed. “You are. I don’t know what it is, not really, but you’re up to something. Don’t do anything tonight; it’s Etan’s birthday.”

  Annoyance zipped through him. “What exactly do you think I’m planning on doing? I’m a bit old for pranks, you know.”

  “I’m aware of that. I didn’t think you were planning a prank in the middle of a party, though I wouldn’t put it past you another time.” It was said ruefully, but Amory knew him well—among friends Tristan might still try a small prank, despite not having done so since they were children. “Whatever you’re thinking has something to do with Etan.”

  “Maybe.”

  The stare Amory fixed him with was stern but worried too. “Don’t, Tris, please.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m thinking.”

  “Maybe not, but… just don’t h—”

  Whatever Amory was about to say was interrupted by an announcement by Cathal calling for everyone to move out onto the terrace for a surprise. Amory frowned, but seemed to be about to continue speaking until Philip took his hand to pull him to his feet.

  “We’ll talk later,” Amory managed to say as the prince whisked him past to lead the guests outside. Tristan had no intention of talking to Amory when he could be with Etan, but he didn’t say so to Amory. He followed behind the couple as they walked to the doors that had been thrown open onto the terrace.

  There was a slight chill to the night air, but it was refreshing after the warmth of the small ballroom. Darkness had fallen, and the lights out on the terrace and in the garden had been extinguished at some point during the party. The moon cast silvery light over the shadowy garden and the party guests crowding the terrace. Tristan glanced around. The light was enough for him to see that the other guests shared his confusion about why they were outside.

  Etan had been ushered by his brothers and sisters and the princess up next to Amory and the prince, close to the terrace railing, which put him close to Tristan as well. Tristan heard him ask Amory what was going on and Amory answering that it had been Elodie’s idea with Meriall’s enthusiastic concurrence.

  “But what is it?” Etan asked, his words nearly cut off by the first burst of color in the sky.

  The guests gasped as the bursts of colorful sparks lit the sky in starbursts and spirals, exploding and dancing and spinning in ever more complicated patterns above the darkened gardens. The sorcerers creating them had to be both skilled and powerful. Tristan’s Talent for fire and light wasn’t nearly strong enough to create such controlled and large effects. The most he’d ever managed was a small burst of colored sparks far closer to the ground and even then he’d scorched a few paving stones.

  Despite his interest in the magic, he found himself watching Etan more, as the different colored lights washed over Etan’s strong profile. The delight and wonder in his eyes, the slight smile playing at Etan’s lips. He’d always found Etan attractive, but there was something more about him at that moment, when he was so openly enjoying a wonderful gift given to him by his cousin and sister, something beautiful to see.

  Etan didn’t turn, but something told Tristan that his attention had turned to Tristan. He froze under that corner-of-the-eye appraisal and was surprised to find himself flushing, but he smiled at Etan, continuing to watch him until Etan focused again on the show. Tristan let out a long breath.

  When the last spark died away, the assembled guests applauded with enthusiasm. The sorcerers who had done their work from the garden came forward to bow to Philip and Amory and their guests, and Etan thanked the princess and Meriall, embracing each of them. Through the open doors, Tristan could hear the musicians begin playing again, and Philip invited everyone back inside for more dancing and food. The merrymaking would probably last hours yet—some of these people wouldn’t get home much before dawn—but Tristan, after that last glance especially, wanted to be alone with Etan.

  As the guests began filtering back through the doors, Tristan faded through them, taking up a position to the right of the doors and waiting, letting the crowd pass by him and trying to go unnoticed. Etan was one of the last to go back inside, which Tristan had hoped would happen. He’d also been hoping the slight chill in the air would drive people who might have lingered on the terrace back inside, and that seemed to have happened as well. Etan took one last look out to the garden and then followed the last few stragglers toward the doors.

  Before Etan reached them, Tristan stretched out a hand and snagged Etan’s arm, using it to pull Etan into the shadows and push him against the wall, the way Etan had Tristan that day in the secret corridor, a memory that still delighted Tristan. He swallowed Etan’s surprised gasp in a kiss.

  Tristan poured everything he had into the kiss, everything he’d felt over these last few weeks. His frustration and confusion, his attraction and longing for more after the taste he’d had of being with Etan. He willed Etan to feel all of it in the kiss.

  Making a noise in the back of his throat, Etan brought his hands up to Tristan’s shoulders. Etan broke away from the kiss, but he didn’t move, didn’t push Tristan away. “Wait, Tristan, wait.”

  “Why?” He leaned forward and nipped at Etan’s lower lip. “It’s your birthday party. Enjoy yourself.”

  “Because we’re right outside the party. I’d rather not make a spectacle of myself.”

  He wondered if Etan needed a bit of a spectacle but he didn’t say that. He did place nibbling little kisses along Etan’s chin, jaw, ear. Etan didn’t object, but his fingers dug into Tristan’s shoulders. “Then let’s go somewhere else where no one can interrupt us. I like that idea better anyway. Don’t you?�
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  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Tristan, just—just stop for a moment.” Now Etan did give Tristan a little push, but he still didn’t let go of Tristan’s shoulders. Etan dragged in a long, shuddery breath. “I can’t do this.”

  “But why not? There isn’t anyone, is there? You aren’t married. We can go somewhere where no one will find us, and I can wish you a more personal happy birthday.” Tristan smiled, trying to infuse every wicked thought he had into it and was rewarded by Etan’s slight shiver.

  “There’s someone else for you, though.”

  “No there isn’t.” He didn’t have a lover, and Dariela was gone. Yes, the traditional mourning period hadn’t ended yet, but he didn’t think Etan meant that.

  “Your friend from that night I saw you at the Hidden Cat?” Etan watched him steadily as he said it.

  Tristan shook his head. “I told you he’s just a friend. There isn’t anything between us, not in the way you mean.”

  “And there isn’t anyone else?” Etan continued before Tristan could deny it again. “No other friends?”

  He’d somehow lost track of this conversation, and he didn’t know what Etan was getting at. “Well, yes, I have other friends that I might pass a night with. Other men I’ve been with. But it doesn’t mean anything, not the way you’re implying, not so anyone would object. Sometimes I spend some time with someone, a bit of pleasure and relaxation.”

  “And us, if we were to go to bed tonight?” Etan asked. “Would that be all it is?”

  Tristan floundered for words, finally reaching for something light. “I would hope it would be pleasurable.” He bit his lip when Etan just stared at him, his face closing off as Tristan watched. “Is that so bad? There’s nothing wrong with enjoying ourselves together, is there?”

  Etan sighed. “No, of course there isn’t, but I’m not made for it. I need more than that, and I have to care for the person I’m with in some way. I can’t do what you do—the nearly anonymous encounters.”