“I know. Me too. It’s terrifying. The very thought of our child—of Tristan’s child—being taken is terrifying. I don’t know what I would do—well, I know I would tear this city, this country, apart looking for Julien.” His arms tightened convulsively around Amory, but Amory just moved his hands up and down Philip’s back in long strokes, both taking comfort and giving it. “But Julien is safe in his bed, and Captain Loriot is the best at what he does. That’s why he’s the captain of the Royal Guard. And Savarin is the most powerful sorcerer in Tournai.”
“Do you think they can find her?”
It was the question Philip hadn’t wanted to think about. He didn’t think any of them wanted to. Everyone had carefully avoided asking Captain Loriot such a thing, or even saying that Captain Loriot would find Bria. Because what if he didn’t? Nothing was assured, not in a situation like this one.
But Amory had asked him, seeking reassurance, and Amory deserved an answer. “I think they are capable and skilled, and if anyone can find Bria and Tristan’s sister and bring them home, it’s Loriot and Savarin.”
Amory looked up at him and nodded. Philip knew he would have preferred a more definite answer, a guarantee that Captain Loriot would bring Bria home unharmed, but Philip also knew Amory wouldn’t want to be lied to. Amory wasn’t a child, nor was he weak, and Philip wouldn’t treat him as if he was.
“We’ll help as much as we can.”
“Anything we can do,” Philip agreed. Tristan was Amory’s oldest friend, and Philip wouldn’t sit by while his daughter and sister were missing. “Any way we can help.”
Amory nodded again and rested his head against Philip’s shoulder. They stood for a long time in silence, arms tight around each other, rocking slightly as if they were trying to soothe each other the way they calmed Julien.
“Will you be able to sleep?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
“I don’t know. Probably not,” Amory said. “Will you?”
“I don’t know.”
Amory raised his head to look at him but didn’t put any distance between them. “I feel like, if I’m not going to sleep, I should sit with Tristan. Because I know he won’t rest.”
“Etan will take care of him. You saw, didn’t you?”
Amory nodded. Philip thought he’d seen the care, the protectiveness of Etan’s manner toward Tristan just as Philip had. Etan had made a decision about Tristan, and his decision wasn’t to walk away. Philip couldn’t say he was surprised.
“They know where to find us if they need us.”
Amory sighed. “You’re right. I should send a note to Adeline. She should know.”
“In the morning. There’s nothing she can do tonight either.” Philip waited for Amory’s nod before continuing. “Then let’s try to sleep. Or at the very least lie awake together.”
Amory smiled a bit at that. “All right, but I want to check on Julien first.”
They didn’t need to. Julien slept through the night now, and his nursemaid was always nearby. Julien didn’t need them to look in on him, but Philip needed to see their son, safe in his bed, as much as Amory did. They couldn’t even attempt to sleep until they’d proven to themselves that Julien was where he was supposed to be. “Me too.”
ETAN LED Tristan to his suite, keeping one hand on Tristan’s back the whole time, guiding, steadying. Tristan’s fear, his near-fragility in it, terrified Etan. He let them into his suite and ushered Tristan to the couch, knowing Tristan wouldn’t be able to sleep yet, if ever, that he wouldn’t even want to try.
Once Tristan was seated, Etan went to the liquor cabinet and poured them each a glass of plaire. Etan didn’t often drink it, preferring wine to the more potent liquor, but tonight he thought they both might need something a little stronger. Returning to the couch, he pressed the glass into Tristan’s hands and sat beside him as he had in Philip and Amory’s suite. Fussing around Tristan, Etan urged him to take a sip.
After a moment, Tristan did, taking one slow sip, then another. Then he turned and stared at Etan, saying nothing. Etan couldn’t discern what Tristan was thinking in the blue of his eyes, so blank and flat. Seeing Tristan looking at him like that might have been more frightening than seeing him so frantic with worry earlier.
“Tristan? Are you all right?” Stupid question. He kicked himself for asking it when the words were barely out of his mouth. He put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “What can I do?”
“You don’t have to treat me as if I’m fragile. I’m going to be strong for Bria. I’m not going to break.” Tristan’s voice was strained, but his tone was strong as he straightened his spine, pulling away from Etan an infinitesimal amount that Etan nevertheless felt.
“You can, you know,” he said quietly, trying to convey all his feelings, all that he would do for Tristan in just his voice as he spoke the words. “You can break if you need to, here, with me. I’ll be here, and I’ll hold on to you, and I’ll help you put the pieces back together.”
Tristan stared at him for a moment before shooting to his feet and stalking a few steps away. Etan reared back at the sudden movement, unsure what to do, but Tristan turned back. Tristan gestured with his glass as he spoke, sloshing the liquor around inside. “Why? Why would you help me? Why do you want to help me? I know I hurt you—I know that now, but I told you I wanted something real, something more with you, and you walked away.”
Etan set his glass down on a table and rose slowly, never taking his eyes off Tristan. Tristan’s breath was heaving. Etan would let Tristan yell at him if that was what he needed—he would let Tristan do anything he needed if it helped him get through the night—but he didn’t want Tristan angry with him. He wanted to be there for Tristan, to take care of him. He wanted to hold and kiss and coddle, and make everything all right again. Even though he knew he couldn’t make anything all right because he couldn’t bring back Bria and Selene.
He had to tell Tristan why he’d shown up at his door; he had to be as honest as Tristan had been. “And I came back. I thought about everything you said, about everything we’ve been through together, and I came back to tell you that I want that too. That I still love you. And if I love you, I have to trust that you won’t hurt me again.”
“No one can promise they’ll never hurt the person they love. All they can do is try,” Tristan said, his voice remote almost. “I don’t have much experience with this, but even I know there aren’t any guarantees.”
“I know that. Being with you is worth the risk.”
Tristan stared at him as moments stretched between them. Perhaps it was the wrong time to tell Tristan how he felt. Tristan had so much to handle now; he didn’t need more from Etan, but he’d hoped telling him might show Tristan he could lean on Etan. That Etan wanted to help him get through this.
“This isn’t just because of what happened today, is it? I don’t want your pity, so if you’re saying all this because Bria was taken,” Tristan said, his voice breaking on his daughter’s name, “you shouldn’t. I don’t want to be with you if you’re only here out of pity. I don’t want someone who only feels sorry for me.”
He waited for the rush of words to wind down and then walked toward Tristan slowly. “I wouldn’t do that, and I came to you today before I knew what happened, before I knew anything happened at all. I came to you because I love you, Tristan.”
“You love me? You fell back in love with me,” Tristan said, sounding as if he didn’t quite believe it. But then, he’d had a very difficult day. And Etan admitted some of the reason might be him—he’d been vehement that Tristan had hurt him far too much for him to risk trusting his heart to Tristan again.
Etan shook his head. “No. I never fell out of love with you in the first place. I still love you.”
“You do?”
“I do.” He took the glass from Tristan’s unresisting hand. “I love you, and I’m here with you, whatever you need. Lean on me, Tristan. Let me help.”
Tristan stared at him for so long Et
an began to worry. Maybe his feelings really were too much for Tristan to handle tonight. He kicked himself for saying anything. Tristan’s daughter was missing—Etan’s feelings meant nothing in the face of that fact. Yes, Tristan had asked, and Etan had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that knowing how Etan felt might give Tristan some measure of comfort, but Etan should have left his answer at renewed friendship. They could have talked about what they were to each other later, after Bria was home safe—because she had to be brought home safe again.
“You still love me,” Tristan repeated.
“Yes, very much.” He watched Tristan carefully and saw when he began to shake. He reached out and took Tristan’s hand, squeezing. “Tristan.”
“Etan.” Tristan looked at him, the blank look of shock, of skepticism, melting away, the strength he’d held on to through Captain Loriot’s questioning crumbling to pieces before Etan’s eyes. “I don’t know what to do. What am I supposed to do?”
Etan used his hold on Tristan’s hand to pull him gently into his arms. He wrapped Tristan up, wishing he could shield him, make everything better again, feeling ill that he couldn’t. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure out what to do next, and we’ll trust that Captain Loriot knows what to do to find her.”
Tristan didn’t move at first, except to shake. Just stood in Etan’s arms as Etan held him. Finally, Tristan’s arms came up to wind up Etan’s back, his fingers gripping the fabric of Etan’s tunic. Tristan tipped his head down to rest against Etan’s shoulder and let out a shuddering sigh.
“I didn’t even know if I wanted to be a father,” Tristan whispered after a while. “I married to make my father happy and had a child for the same reason. I didn’t imagine myself raising her. I didn’t know how. I still don’t know how, not really, but now I can’t imagine my life without her.”
Tristan’s voice caught on a sob as he said it, and Etan’s heart broke for him right then. He held Tristan even closer and spoke fiercely. “You don’t have to. You won’t have to, so don’t imagine it.”
Tristan raised his head to look at him out of red-rimmed eyes. “Don’t say that. You can’t say that—you can’t promise that, and I don’t want you to, because if you do and something happens, I can’t promise I won’t be angry at you for breaking that promise.”
“All right, I won’t promise.” Etan stroked a hand over Tristan’s hair, letting it come to rest on the back of Tristan’s neck. “But I’m going to say that we’re not going to imagine the worst. We’re going to remain hopeful until we have real reason not to be. Can you do that with me?”
“I… I don’t know.” Tristan looked away as tears welled in his eyes. “What kind of father am I?”
“A good one from all I’ve seen.”
Tristan shook his head, a sharp, almost violent motion. “How can I be? I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t keep her safe. First my mother is trying to take her away because she doesn’t think I’m fit to raise Bria, and she had my sister do it. And I’m so angry at them, but I’m terrified too, because now someone has taken them, kidnapped them off the street. I don’t know who or why—it might have happened because of me and my family’s business, or who knows what. But no matter the reason, I don’t know where Bria is or how to get her back. I didn’t protect her.”
Tristan broke down into harsh, wracking sobs that seemed to be pulled up from deep inside him. Etan’s heart clenched. He pulled Tristan close again, cradling him against his shoulder, holding him, rocking him. But he didn’t try to quiet Tristan despite the pain it caused him to hear Tristan’s sobs. Tristan needed to get all the pain and fear and helplessness out, and Etan could be there while he did, being strong for him and holding him up until he was ready to hold himself up again.
A long while later, Tristan’s sobs began to slow, and he sagged against Etan, letting Etan take his weight. Etan began to whisper. “You are a good father. You love her so much, so very much, and you weren’t going to let your mother take her from you. No, you don’t know everything still, but I don’t think any parent ever does. You love her, and you care for her. And this is not your fault.”
Tristan shook his head against Etan’s shoulder.
“It isn’t.” Etan gently pulled Tristan’s head up so he could see his face, and tried not to cry himself at the pain he found there. “It isn’t, Tristan. You did not cause this. Don’t ever think you did.”
“Etan….”
“Don’t argue. I’m only going to keep saying it anyway. Repeating it until you believe it.” He stared into Tristan’s eyes, trying to will strength and belief into him through that connection alone.
Tristan nodded, a slow, reluctant movement, and sighed before resting his head against Etan’s shoulder again. Etan cradled him close, urging Tristan to lean on him even more, and tilted his head, rubbing his cheek against Tristan’s hair. He rocked a little, hoping the movement would soothe, and was rewarded when Tristan’s choppy, quick breaths smoothed out and slowed. Etan stayed there, not daring to move for a long time because he didn’t want to disturb Tristan’s tenuous calm.
Finally, though, he spoke. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“I won’t sleep,” Tristan mumbled.
Etan thought maybe Tristan might after his emotional outpouring, but he didn’t say so. “We’ll try. At least lie down. You’ll be no use to anyone tomorrow if you don’t rest.”
Tristan nodded again, but his agreement was far from enthusiastic. “All right.”
He allowed Etan to lead him into the bedchamber and over to the bed. He stood unmoving when they reached the bed, as if he wasn’t certain what to do next. After a moment, Etan stepped forward and undressed Tristan himself, unfastening and removing each article of clothing and laying it aside, kneeling to pull Tristan’s shoes off his feet. He made every movement with deliberate gentleness, trying to infuse his love and concern into every motion. He smoothed his hands over Tristan’s skin, pressed a kiss to his shoulder, not trying to arouse but to soothe and comfort.
Once Tristan was undressed, Etan pulled back the blankets on the bed and urged Tristan down onto the mattress, pulling the blankets up over him once he was lying down. Tristan watched him in silence as he disrobed, his movements far quicker than when he undressed Tristan. He saw no need to go slowly, to make some sort of show of it despite Tristan’s watchful gaze. Tonight wasn’t about that—neither of them was even thinking about that. Tonight was about comfort and holding on to as much hope as they could to get through the night.
Holding on to each other.
Etan slid between the covers, the sheets cool against his skin, and gathered Tristan to him. Tristan came into his arms without protest and settled without a word against Etan’s chest, resting his head on Etan’s shoulder. He held on to Tristan, moving his hands in slow, sweeping motions up and down Tristan’s back.
He didn’t know how much comfort he would or could give, as much as he wanted to. Tristan’s daughter was missing; Etan could do nothing to alleviate Tristan’s fear for her. He couldn’t even calm his own fears. Somehow he had come to care for Bria as much as he did Tristan. Being with Tristan, loving Tristan, the possibility of a life with him, wasn’t only about Tristan and him. Any life they made together would include Bria. He hadn’t realized quite how much he wanted that, quite how much he loved her, until she was snatched away from them.
Ever since Tristan opened his front door to Etan, he’d been battling his own fear as he tried to be strong for Tristan, to give him everything he needed. Now, in the dark and quiet, his fears rose up inside him threatening to sweep him away with them in horrible images of what could be happening to a young woman and a baby kidnapped off the street. Bleak thoughts of how they might be hurt, of what their fate could be. Of whether Bria was being fed and cared for properly, and what would happen if Captain Loriot and Savarin couldn’t find them.
He’d told Tristan they needed to stay hopeful, that they couldn’t imagine the worst. But in the dark, in the middle of the night,
with Tristan quiet, perhaps dozing against him, Etan found it very difficult to follow his own instructions.
He lay awake, battling his own thoughts, his own imagination, as the night wore on, and stroked his hands over Tristan’s back and arm every time he jerked out of his doze. Toward dawn, Tristan seemed to finally fall into a deeper sleep, the exhaustion of his body overwhelming his mind, but Etan did no more than doze fitfully through the whole night.
TRISTAN FLAILED awake, pulling out of Etan’s arms and sitting up with a gasp. Etan raised himself up on an elbow and rested his other hand gently on Tristan’s back. “Tristan? Are you all right?”
“Etan?” Tristan blinked at him over his shoulder, his eyes clouded with confusion. “What? I had a dream….”
As Etan watched, awareness and memory flooded back into Tristan’s eyes and he shuddered, sagging. He rubbed his hands over his face and left them there, but Etan could still hear his hitching breaths.
Etan sat up and pulled Tristan into his arms, as close as he could get him, and held him tightly. He didn’t try to reassure with more than that, knowing that any words he could give Tristan would be empty. He ached with every shuddering breath Tristan took, and hated himself for being grateful Tristan didn’t cry again. He wasn’t sure his heart could take more tears. After this was over, after they had Bria back and Selene was returned to her mother safe and sound, he promised himself he would do everything in his power to make Tristan happy. He never wanted to see Tristan cry, never wanted to see Tristan in so much pain, ever again. He would do anything to take his pain away now, to bring home Bria.
Tristan’s arms came around Etan in turn after a few moments, and they held each other for a long while as the sky lightened outside and the day began. Etan only wished it were a normal day. This wasn’t how waking up next to Tristan should be. He didn’t want it to be like this. Finally Tristan took a long, slow breath and straightened up. Etan loosened his hold enough for Tristan to pull away, but Tristan didn’t go far, keeping his hands on Etan’s chest.
The Scholar's Heart (Chronicles of Tournai Book 3) Page 24
