The Dragon's Devotion (Chronicles of Tournai Book 5)

by Antonia Aquilante

  He made himself move, lifting his head from where he’d buried it in Bastien’s neck. Raising himself up just enough so he wasn’t crushing Bastien, he took a moment to study him. Bastien’s eyes were closed and his expression far more relaxed than Corentin had ever seen it, but he didn’t think Bastien was asleep. A small smile flirted with the corners of his mouth, and his thick hair was tousled and spread around his head. Corentin gave in to the temptation to comb his fingers through the soft waves. Bastien let out a sigh, and the smile became more pronounced.

  Bastien’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared up at Corentin. They gazed at each other for a while; Corentin had no idea what was going on in Bastien’s head, but he was glad to see that Bastien didn’t look as lost as he had when he’d arrived so unexpectedly at Corentin’s door. Unable to resist, Corentin kissed him.

  “Will you stay?” he asked, keeping his voice to a whisper. Somehow it seemed appropriate.

  Bastien didn’t answer immediately, and Corentin could almost see him thinking about it—whether he could or even wanted to—as he stared up at Corentin. He began to wonder if he should have asked, but finally Bastien nodded. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

  “Good.” Corentin slid off Bastien and smiled at the little noise of disgruntled protest Bastien made. But he didn’t go far, only maneuvering both of them, with Bastien mostly limp and heavy, until they lay with their heads on a pillow, and then tugged the blankets up over them. He loved that Bastien turned on his side and snuggled back into him. He wrapped an arm around Bastien to keep him there.

  Corentin didn’t plan on leaving the bed until morning, not with the warmth of Bastien’s presence against him. With a thought and a flick of his fingers, Corentin extinguished the flames of the candles in the sitting room and the bedchamber, leaving them with only the flickering light of the fire.

  Bastien sucked in a quiet breath. “How did you do that?”

  “I thought you were asleep.” Or well on his way anyway. “I…have a Talent for fire.”

  A true statement as far as it went if not the whole truth. As much as Corentin didn’t want to lie to Bastien—not if he could help it, not about anything—he couldn’t tell Bastien the whole truth. It shocked him how much he wanted to. He’d never had a lover before that he’d been tempted to tell, not one who hadn’t already known what Corentin was and what he could do. But since he’d left home and ventured into a world where the nature of his Talent had to remain a secret? Never, not until Bastien.

  “Oh. You’ve never said before.” Bastien’s voice was still drowsy with satisfaction, but his body wasn’t as relaxed as it had been a moment before. Corentin kicked himself for using magic and ruining Bastien’s relaxed state when all he’d wanted was for neither of them to have to leave their cozy cocoon. Still Bastien wasn’t as tense as he’d been when he’d arrived, so perhaps there was hope yet.

  “It never came up, I suppose.” Certainly, he hadn’t told Bastien everything about his home because he couldn’t reveal his secrets, but he’d never had occasion to hold back information that he possessed a Talent.

  Bastien hummed, a little noise of assent, and settled back against Corentin again. Corentin let out a breath, feeling a relief completely out of proportion for the situation, and wrapped Bastien more securely in his arms.

  Chapter Eleven

  CORENTIN DIDN’T REMEMBER falling asleep. He’d been enjoying the feel of Bastien’s body pressed against his, breathing in the scent of Bastien’s hair, and the next thing he knew it was morning. The fire had burned down some, but his magic had kept it burning at the right level for them to remain comfortable, and sunlight streamed through the gap he’d inadvertently left when closing the curtains the night before. The glow of it spread over Bastien, teasing out gilt strands in his bronze hair.

  They must not have moved in sleep because they were in the same position he last remembered—Bastien secure in the circle of his arms, back pressed to Corentin’s chest. Bastien slumbered on, his face peaceful, body warm and pliant. Corentin had the sudden realization that he could happily stay there all day holding Bastien while he slept, and was faced with equal parts profound disappointment that he wouldn’t be able to and shock that he would want to so very much.

  Before he could sort out those emotions, Bastien stirred against him. Corentin hoped he hadn’t woken him, but he couldn’t have let him sleep much longer anyway. Bastien moved more, turning a bit toward Corentin before he opened his eyes. They were hazy and unfocused for a moment, somewhat similar to last night when he’d gotten Bastien drunk on pleasure. The memory was one Corentin enjoyed, and he’d like to see those usually serious eyes reduced to that once more. But Bastien soon focused on Corentin, and a slow, sleepy smile crept over his face.

  He looked delectable, with his hair tousled and his body warm from sleep. Corentin kissed him, loving the way Bastien melted into him. He lingered there for a moment before drawing back reluctantly with a series of quick light kisses. Now some of the daze in Bastien’s eyes really was from passion.

  “Good morning,” Corentin whispered.

  “Good morning.”

  “Are you…” He almost hated to bring it up, but Bastien hadn’t been right last night, and he needed to know. “Are you feeling better this morning?”

  “Steadier. Thank you. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset last night. And I shouldn’t have come here feeling that way.”

  Corentin despised the idea of Bastien closing up on him again. “You absolutely should, whenever you need.”

  Bastien hesitated. “Thank you, Corentin.”

  “I mean it.” He dropped another quick kiss on Bastien’s lips. “Do you want to talk about what happened to upset you?”

  He could almost see Bastien withdraw though he didn’t move physically. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing if it upset you so much, and don’t tell me that you shouldn’t have been upset. You’re allowed to be upset when something happens.”

  “I’m the earl. I’m really not.”

  Irrational anger snapped to life inside Corentin, and he fought to keep it out of his voice. “You’re a man, and you are allowed. Will you tell me?”

  Bastien sighed and turned away again, but he didn’t move from Corentin’s arms, a small ray of hope that Corentin clung to. “The family dinner last night was with my uncle—my father’s brother—and his family. He and my aunt pushed hard for me to wed and just as hard that I wed one of their daughters, implying that I’ve not been fulfilling my duty to the title by not finding a wife.”

  Corentin was caught utterly without words for a moment. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t that. It was understandable how being told such thing would affect Bastien so strongly, though. If there was one thing he’d figured out about him, it was that Bastien took his obligation to his title and his family seriously. Perhaps too seriously.

  “I can’t imagine you shirking anything, Bastien.” He hugged him closer, trying to reassure, but Bastien shook his head.

  “I am, though. I should have married by now. I know producing an heir isn’t as important as if I were prince or a royal duke, but it’s still something I’m supposed to do. I probably should have done as soon as my father died.” Bastien flinched when he said that last, and Corentin would have gathered him closer if he thought it possible.

  He tried for logic instead. “You have brothers. It isn’t as if you don’t have heirs should something happen to you.” Which was not a possibility Corentin wanted to entertain.

  “I do, but I’m supposed to marry and have children of my own. My uncle shouldn’t have pushed it, let alone pushed that I marry one of my cousins—who are lovely girls but are my cousins, and I can’t think of either of them as a wife—but he isn’t wrong about my duty. It’s the way it works.”

  “So you have to marry someone solely to produce an heir to inherit the title after you’re gone.”

  “Yes. As I said, it’s the way it works. It can’t be th
at different where you’re from.”

  He supposed it wasn’t at heart, but it was completely different in some ways too. “Well, yes, the noble houses must produce heirs to carry on, and the ruler more than most. But marrying isn’t the only way to do that.”

  “What other way is there?”

  “Certainly marriages are made for either love or wealth or power. But a man can also have heirs out of marriage by contracting with a woman or a man to do so if they don’t want to marry or are waiting either for love or the possibility of an alliance marriage. No one has to marry to ensure their bloodline will continue to hold a title.”

  Bastien turned his head and studied Corentin. “Here, a child born outside marriage can be legitimized, but it isn’t done as a matter of course, and I don’t think particularly frequently, especially not as an heir to a title. Though I suppose it’s possible. I’ve never heard of someone doing it on purpose either.”

  “Then it is very different.”

  “And did you say a man having a child with a man?” Bastien asked.

  “Yes. It can’t be a surprise. Your own princes did so.”

  “Yes, but no one knew it was possible before they did. Cathal told me they found out about the spell in some old book in the palace library that it was likely no one had looked at in decades if not centuries. Is it common where you’re from?”

  “I wouldn’t call it common. At least not now. In history, it seems to have happened more often, or more people were born with the Talent necessary for it to be a possibility.” He theorized that perhaps particular Talents cropped up when they were needed, as it seemed that rare one did. It certainly seemed to have been more common in times when there had been fewer female births in the bloodlines of the dragon Talent. “But it’s not unheard of where I’m from.”

  “Huh.” Bastien was quiet for a moment and then turned to face away from Corentin, settling himself comfortably on his side once more. “Very different from here. Aside from the special case of the princes, though I suppose there could be others out there with Prince Amory’s rare Talent, we have to marry women and produce heirs for our titles. It’s the way of things.”

  “And you? Are you looking for a wife?” Corentin hadn’t thought of the possibility despite Bastien’s title and noble position. He’d gathered from conversation between them that Bastien was attracted to women as well as men, but he hadn’t heard any indication that Bastien was planning to marry a woman soon.

  “I hadn’t been. Since my father died, there’s been so much to handle. It was sudden, and now to hear—we weren’t ready, so there was a lot to put in order and get under my control, even after working with my father on estate business for years. And even now, my time is filled with keeping things running and watching over the family. So I wasn’t thinking about my own marriage.” Bastien sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to. Not one of my cousins, though. And I really should get Ligeia settled first, or on the path to it. She’s at that age when it’s becoming vital, or her chances of a good marriage will be lowered considerably, and I don’t want that option taken from her. I need to think about her future more than I have been. Her well-being is more important right now.”

  Corentin didn’t like the well of emptiness that opened up within him when Bastien said he would have to look for a wife, nor did he understand it. He hadn’t been anticipating anything permanent with Bastien, had he? He couldn’t have been, not when he would leave Tournai someday. He’d made no decisions about the length of his stay, but he hadn’t decided to settle permanently, or even explore whether that would be possible. But perhaps his heart had come to other conclusions when he wasn’t paying attention.

  All of which was incredible because he and Bastien had barely begun an affair.

  The point appeared to be moot anyway since Bastien planned on looking for a noble lady to marry and make his countess. Corentin couldn’t give him what he was looking for if all Bastien wanted was heirs for the earldom.

  The realization should not have been as distressing as it was.

  “I’m sure you’ll do what needs to be done for your sister.” He made himself say it even as he buried his own irrational disappointment as deep as he could. He was good at putting his feelings away, but a little distance would be welcome to make sure they stayed that way. “I hate to do this, but I have to get up. I have students to see this morning.”

  “Oh, of course. I need to go home anyway. I have work of my own.”

  Bastien’s words were matter-of-fact, and most likely true, but Corentin thought he heard just a bit of disappointment in them, and it caused a pang somewhere deep within him.

  “Perhaps we can see each other later? We’d planned to anyway.”

  Bastien turned to him with a sweet smile and a kiss. “I’d like that.”

  Corentin nearly groaned but managed to bite it back. It was the sweet, unguarded smile that would do him in, that would make it nearly impossible for him to give this man up; he was certain of it. And he kicked himself for not anticipating it from the first moment he spoke to Bastien and began to see the man beneath the veneer of earl and cousin to the prince. What was he going to do?

  BASTIEN PARTED FROM Corentin at the front door of the rooming house with a quick kiss. They might have wished to linger over it, but the street was beginning to bustle with people getting on their way, and they had to be on their way as well. Bastien walked home in the chill of a late autumn morning, wondering what he was doing.

  He’d run to Corentin last night as if he couldn’t imagine anywhere else to go. Truthfully, he couldn’t then and couldn’t now—at least, anywhere else he would want to go. But then to pour out all that had brought him there, absurd as it must have sounded. He shouldn’t have whined. There was nothing Bastien could do to change his obligations, and there was no sense complaining about it to Corentin. Bastien could only do his best to juggle everything—and make his best better than it had been.

  He was grateful to have had his night with Corentin, grateful that there would be more. Last night had been…he wasn’t sure he could find words to describe how wonderful it had been. He’d been a little disappointed that he couldn’t repeat the experience this morning. Still, just waking up in Corentin’s arms, cradled and protected and maybe cherished, was enough to provoke a level of joy Bastien could not fathom. But, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t wallow in memories of last night.

  Jogging up the steps to his front door, he let himself in and made directly for the stairs, only to stop when Griffen called his name. He turned as his brother came down the hall. Griffen glanced at Bastien’s clothes, and Bastien fought not to bristle or blush. Yes, he was still wearing last night’s formal clothing, now slightly rumpled after a night on the floor.

  “I was watching for you,” Griffen said. “When you weren’t in your rooms, I thought you might have spent the night out.”

  Bastien couldn’t detect any censure in his brother’s tone, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any. “I did. Is there a problem?”

  “Not with that. I hope you had a good night.”

  He let a breath out and tried to let any worry about Griffen’s reaction go with it. Griffen probably spent any number of nights in a bed not his own. He’d have no room to criticize Bastien’s choices. “But there is a problem. Are Mathis and Ligeia all right?”

  “They’re fine. Mathis already left for the university, and Ligeia is still asleep. A note came from the palace.” Griffen removed a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to Bastien. The seal had been broken. “The messenger said it was urgent, so I took a look. I thought it might be about Mother and Father.”

  Bastien narrowed his eyes at Griffen’s unapologetic tone. The note had been sent to him, not Griffen. No matter what Griffen thought, he should have waited. “And was it?”

  “Yes. They found the person who wrote the letter you received.” Griffen shook his head before Bastien could bombard him with questions. “He’s dead, Bastien.”

 
“What?” Now he had even more questions. Who was this man and how had they found him? How had he died? When had he died?

  “Read the note. Captain Loriot and Lord Marcus are at the man’s lodgings, or they were. They’ll report to Philip after, I assume. We should go up to the palace.”

  Bastien opened the note and skimmed it quickly. There was precious little information to be had from it, nothing more than Griffen had already told him. Still, he read it through twice, looking for any detail he might have missed. “I don’t want to go up to the palace. I want to go to this man’s lodgings.”

  Griffen followed as Bastien turned and jogged up the stairs. “And what would you hope to find there that two men trained in investigation wouldn’t?”

  “What is Lord Marcus’s position in Philip’s government anyway? What is he actually trained in?” He didn’t stop walking as he tossed the questions over his shoulder, but he kept his voice down. There was no reason to wake Ligeia.

  “I don’t know exactly,” Griffen said. Bastien thought that was the end of it, but Griffen kept speaking. “It’s something fairly secretive. But if there’s talk of spies or something needing to be looked into very quietly and privately, Lord Marcus seems to be involved. I doubt many outside Philip’s closest advisors realize he does anything.”

  Bastien stopped at the door to his rooms. “You’re saying he’s what? Some sort of spymaster?”

  Griffen didn’t laugh, even though Bastien had meant it mostly as a joke. “Suffice it to say, he’s trusted with matters like these. He knows what he’d doing.”

  Marcus must know what he was about for Philip to trust him with this, and Bastien knew Loriot was quite good at his job too. That knowledge didn’t lessen his desire to see for himself, though.