“The plan was for the royal guard to go in for him and his men as soon as Corentin had you safely away,” Savarin said. “Jadis and I left the city before anything got started, so I can’t tell you what happened. But I haven’t heard anything about it not going to plan, and I would have.”
“Why did we come here instead of going straight back to Jumelle?” Where they would have known what had happened by now.
“We didn’t know what your condition was. If you were injured.” Corentin’s voice was tight. “I needed a place to bring you where I could land unseen and someone could see to you immediately. We wouldn’t have been able to care for you if I’d landed at the cliffs. This seemed the best option.”
Bastien nodded. He must have been truly distracted not to realize that Corentin had told people—many people—about his Talent. He’d have had to since the plan involved Savarin and Jadis, and apparently the royal guard. It wasn’t just a matter of Corentin risking being seen. “Corentin—”
Corentin shook his head. “It’s all right.”
“But—”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
Perhaps that was best. He nodded, letting the matter go for the moment, and Corentin relaxed slightly.
Savarin said nothing of the exchange. “As soon as you’re feeling up to it, Lord Bastien, and Jadis gives his approval, we can return to Jumelle.”
“I’d like to leave as soon as possible,” Bastien said immediately. He needed to know what had happened, and he needed to see Ligeia, Griffen, and Mathis.
“You don’t have to rush. You’re welcome here for as long as you need.”
“Thank you, Master Savarin. I appreciate your hospitality, but I must return to the city.”
“Of course. Jadis?”
“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t return if you’re feeling up to it,” Jadis answered. “There are no serious injuries to worry about, and the sleep did you good, Lord Bastien.”
“I’ll have the carriage readied after we finish eating, then,” Savarin said. If he was perturbed to leave his pretty estate so soon and return to Jumelle, he didn’t show it.
“Thank you, Master Savarin.”
They left directly after the meal as Savarin promised. It was easily done as none of them had much in the way of baggage. The few things each had brought—that had been brought for Bastien and Corentin—were gathered in moments and the carriage readied quickly.
The carriage ride was interminable, but Bastien was sure his own impatience only made it seem so. Certainly, no one else appeared to feel it. Jadis read the entire way back, and Savarin made notes in a thick leather-bound notebook, creating a little globe of light that floated over them once it got too dim inside the carriage. Corentin sat idle but calm at Bastien’s side.
Bastien watched Corentin out of the corner of his eye, cataloguing all the little details of him, drinking them in. He craved Corentin’s arms around him, making him feel safe and wanted, showing him he was home again. How had Corentin become home so quickly and against all of his efforts? None of his past lovers had ever made him feel so much. He looked out the window before he did something foolish.
“Are you all right, Bastien?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” He turned back to Corentin, trying to look as fine as he said he was; he didn’t succeed if the concern clouding Corentin’s eyes was anything to go by.
But Corentin didn’t say anything. He did, however, cover the hand Bastien rested on the seat cushion with his own, and he left it there the rest of the trip.
DARKNESS HAD FALLEN by the time they reached Jumelle. Bastien had watched the sunset paint the sky in shades of pink and orange that faded little by little to be replaced by the dark of an autumn evening, unable to do anything other than stare dumbly out the carriage window, the warmth of Corentin’s hand the only thing anchoring him to the present. He roused slightly once they were in the city, and more when the carriage passed by the turn the driver would have had to take to go to the house. It didn’t take much for Bastien to realize where they were going.
“The palace?”
Savarin looked up from his notebook and glanced around, as if just realizing where they were. “Yes, Their Highnesses will want to see you, and you’ll find the most information there, Lord Bastien.”
Knowing that didn’t stop him from wanting to go home. But what was he longing for when he thought of home—the estate, the house here in Jumelle, Corentin? If it was that last, Corentin was right beside him, though for how long, Bastien didn’t know.
When they arrived at the palace, Jadis left them, but Savarin walked with Bastien and Corentin to the princes’ study. The guards let them pass, and Philip himself called out for them to enter when Bastien knocked. They found Philip and Cathal in the study, Philip seated at the desk and Cathal across from it.
“Bastien, I’m so glad to see you’re all right,” Philip said.
“Thank you, Philip.”
“Master Savarin, thank you for your help and for the use of your home.”
The sorcerer bowed slightly. “I’m pleased to be able to help, Your Highness.”
“Nevertheless, you have our gratitude.” After Savarin left, Philip turned back to Bastien and Corentin. “Master Corentin, you have our gratitude as well.”
Bastien tensed slightly, aware that Corentin did the same beside him. “Anything I could do to bring Bastien back safely, Your Highness.”
A warmth suffused Bastien at Corentin’s words, and he hoped it hadn’t brought too much color to his cheeks. But Philip, and presumably Cathal, had to know what Corentin was to him. Bastien still couldn’t quite believe Corentin had revealed his Talent, his most closely held secret, for him.
“And still I would thank you. You didn’t have to do what you did. Know that you won’t face any consequences from us, nor will any of us reveal the secret of your Talent.” Philip’s voice held both sincerity and all the authority of his position as prince. “We understand your reasons for keeping it a secret.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” The tension eased somewhat from Corentin’s body but didn’t disappear entirely. Bastien doubted Corentin would trust so easily.
“Etan may pester you with questions, though,” Cathal said idly. “He’s eaten alive with curiosity.”
A short laugh escaped Corentin. “I’m sure Lord Etan is.”
Philip shook his head, but the gesture appeared indulgent more than anything. “Please sit, both of you. You must have questions about what’s happened since last night.”
Bastien took a chair and was pleased that Corentin sat beside him. “You have Ormand?”
“We have him and the men he had working for him. We also have Evadne, Coro, Patia, and Idalia,” Philip said. “Marcus is questioning them all.”
He hadn’t expected his aunt and his cousins to be questioned as well as his uncle, and it grated, calling the man uncle after all he’d done. “Our aunt and cousins, as well? Do you think they had something to do with it?”
“We don’t know. Marcus doesn’t think Coro, Patia, or Idalia knew anything about it, and they would have been young for it when Ormand ordered the assassination. He’s not sure about Evadne yet. She hasn’t admitted to anything, but he believes she might have known at the least.”
“And what has Ormand said?”
“Nothing.”
Bastien stared at Philip for a moment, uncomprehending. “What?”
“He’s said nothing. No admissions, no denials. Nothing at all.” Philip had been calm and composed the entire time Bastien had been in the study, but Bastien now saw a flash of something in his eyes—anger, frustration, betrayal. “He isn’t talking to Marcus.”
“He talked to me.”
Philip’s gaze fastened on him, and Bastien could feel Corentin and Cathal staring as well. “What did he tell you?”
“He admitted everything.” Bastien recounted what Ormand had said. “He said he’d kill me, and probably Griffen as well. He didn’t think G
riffen would be easily controlled. Unless I did as he wanted—marry one of his daughters, turn over the running of everything to him, help him gain more influence at court, with you. If I did, he’d let me live.”
Cathal muttered a curse. And then something that sounded like, “For how long?”
Philip flicked a glance Cathal’s way but didn’t dispute his words. Bastien couldn’t either—he’d had the same thought while in that tower room. Corentin’s hands curled into fists, but he said nothing.
“What you’ve told us may be enough for Marcus to get more out of Ormand and Evadne,” Philip said after a moment. “And even if not, we have enough. We know what happened to you, and to our parents.”
There was some satisfaction in that. The desire to learn what had really happened was what had kept him in Jumelle and searching these last weeks. But the satisfaction of knowing, and the certainty that those responsible would be punished, came with no sense of triumph. Family had committed the horrible crimes against their own, and the betrayal wouldn’t be easy for any of them to deal with.
THE LIGHT TAP on Bastien’s study door made him jump. He didn’t want to admit how uncomfortable he’d been in the room since the kidnapping, even sometimes to himself. He forced himself to spend time there, to work at his desk. The door always stayed closed, though; no one would catch him unaware again.
He put his pen down and took a deep breath before calling out, “Come in.”
The door opened to reveal Ligeia, wearing one of the fashionable new gowns Bastien was only just beginning to become accustomed to seeing her in. She looked like a different person in them, the silk and lace and perfectly curled hair replacing the more serviceable dresses and braids she wore at home.
“You’re working too hard,” she said without preamble.
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“What can I do for you?”
She smiled and shook her head. “I’m going to have dinner at the palace with Elodie tonight. Patia and Idalia are coming with me. I think she’s invited Meriall as well.”
Bastien nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he assumed the dinner was meant to make Patia and Idalia feel better. They were understandably distraught about their parents’ crimes, and Bastien was at a loss for how to make it better. The girls were his responsibility now, as well as their brother until he came of age in four years. “That’s good. Do you want me to escort you up to the palace?”
“No need. Griffen said he would. He’s dining with friends tonight.”
He fought back the immediate thought that they likely wouldn’t see Griffen before morning, then. He shouldn’t be so quick to judge his brother. “All right.”
She tilted her head to the side and contemplated him, the weight of her stare heavy. “Are you all right?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I can think of any number of reasons.” She walked into the room, shutting the door behind her, and took a seat across the desk from Bastien. “I also think you really want to escape back home for a while.”
He let out a quiet laugh. She was perceptive. He’d been wishing for some calm, quiet time, and he only ever found it at Ardesia. Then again, he was also feeling as if everything was slipping out of his grasp; he wouldn’t mind time spent with his eyes on one thing, at least, that he could assure himself was under control. “I wouldn’t mind, but I can’t manage it now.”
She watched him for a moment. “I haven’t seen Corentin in a while.”
He fought not to flinch. Corentin had seen him home from the palace the night they returned from Savarin’s house, but he hadn’t heard from him in the week since. He didn’t want to admit some of his restlessness might be caused by Corentin’s absence. “I’m sure he’s busy at the university.”
Skepticism settled over her face. “That man stayed here with you when you were in danger. He stayed with us, doing everything he could for us and to help find you. And then he allowed us to find out about his Talent so he could rescue you. Even without all that, anyone can see the way he looks at you, Bastien. He loves you. I highly doubt that being busy would keep him away.”
Bastien looked away from Ligeia, toward the window and the dying afternoon sunlight.
“Bastien. What happened?”
“We argued. Before I was kidnapped.” And it was still easier to refer to the kidnapping that way, eliminating mention of Ormand. The argument was painful no matter how he thought of it, so he tried not to.
“What about?”
“About our future—our lack of future—together.” He shook his head before she could say anything. “You know what his Talent is. His people are out there somewhere. He’ll go home one day. And even if he wanted to stay, I have to marry, to produce an heir for the earldom.”
She sighed, the sound one of profound disappointment. “And you would do that at the expense of your own happiness?”
“Ligeia, you don’t understand—”
“I understand quite well. You’ve done everything for us, for the business and the estate too, since Mother and Father died. You’ve held on to every bit of it so hard, and you’ve fulfilled every obligation you have, but it’s making you someone else. You were different—happier, more open—before.”
“We were younger then. Now I have a duty to fulfill.”
“And you’re doing it. You can’t hang on to tradition at the expense of your happiness. Whether you produce a bloodline heir for the earldom doesn’t diminish everything you do. It isn’t all up to you. You aren’t alone. You have two brothers who could easily marry and produce heirs.”
“I wonder if Mathis will ever step out of the library long enough to find someone to marry. And Griffen…I doubt he’ll ever marry.”
“Stop it.” Her voice was sharp. “Mathis is young. He has time. And you shouldn’t be so hard on Griffen. He likes to enjoy himself, but he’s as diligent in the duties of his work as you are in yours.”
He looked down, chastened. Hadn’t he been telling himself he shouldn’t be so hard on Griffen?
“And if neither of them marries or has children, there’s still me. I would very much like to marry, and I’d like children too.”
“I don’t want you to have to do that just for the family,” he protested.
Her eyebrows went up. “And you should?”
“It’s what I’m trying to tell you. This is my responsibility. I won’t push it off on anyone else.”
“You’re being ridiculous. I love our home, and I would happily spend my life on those lands. I’d like to find someone to share that life with. It would be nice not to be alone. It would be nice to have children of my own to raise to love Ardesia as much as I do.”
He stuttered for a moment, trying to find something to say in the face of the words she’d hurled at him, not in anger but certainly with the force of utter truth. He settled for the easiest question. “Is there someone you’re thinking you might want to spend your life with?”
“I haven’t had much of a chance to meet anyone, have I? What with everything that’s happened since we came to Jumelle.” She seemed truthful, but he wasn’t entirely sure he believed her. “If you do go back to Ardesia, I think I’ll stay in Jumelle for a while, just to see.”
He wanted to protest leaving her here with Griffen and Mathis—and he had no idea what he would do with his cousins yet, or what they wanted to do—but he bit back the words. She was right. He was too hard on his brothers, and he did take on too much, hold on too tight. If she wanted to stay on in Jumelle, they would figure out how. “I don’t know that I can leave, but if you want to stay, I won’t say you can’t.”
“Thank you. But that still leaves you and Corentin.”
“There’s nothing to say about me and Corentin.”
“Not even that you love him? That he might be the person you want to spend your life with?”
“Ligeia.”
“Don’t throw love and happiness and a good man away because o
f some silly idea that you would be failing the family or Father or whatever. Father’s gone, and you’re earl, but you aren’t failing anything by falling in love and finding someone to share the burdens with. You shouldn’t think you have to shoulder it all alone.” She reached across the desk and put a hand on his arm. It wasn’t the pampered hand of a lady who spent all her time at court, but one who worked with horses and forgot her gloves half the time when she went riding. “Don’t throw Corentin and your own happiness away.”
“Ligeia…even if I wanted to, he never meant to stay in Tournai permanently. He has a home and family far from here.” And responsibilities of his own to his country and people.
She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t people ever talk to each other? Plans can change, Bastien. If you love Corentin and want to be with him, you’ll change yours. What’s to say he wouldn’t change his? You need to talk to him and see.”
He stared at her for a moment. “You think you’re smart, don’t you?”
“I do. I am.” She smiled and stood. “Talk to him.”
She rounded the desk and kissed him on the cheek and then left the room without another word.
Bastien sat and stared at the door that closed softly behind her. He tried to ignore what she said, to tell himself she didn’t understand because the burdens didn’t rest on her shoulders.
But she did know. She loved Ardesia and their family as much as he did. And Ligeia loved him, had only his interests at heart, as he had hers. He didn’t want her to sacrifice herself for their family, but should he sacrifice himself? Because now he had something to sacrifice. Before he met Corentin, before he fell in love with him and began to see him as integral to his world, Bastien hadn’t seen anything wrong with marrying and producing an heir. He might even have found someone to do that with whom he could’ve loved. But he did meet Corentin, and he did fall in love with him.
The Dragon's Devotion (Chronicles of Tournai Book 5) Page 33
