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

  Elodie arrived with only one of her ladies accompanying her and, as soon as she greeted Bastien and Ligeia, dragged Ligeia off to pore over designs for gowns and fabrics and trims and who knew what else. He’d told himself he would stay, but after a while, he slipped from the room. Ligeia didn’t need him; a few years separated her and Elodie, and they hadn’t seen each other in a while, but Ligeia didn’t seem intimidated by her royal cousin. He left them talking and giggling in the parlor and went back to his study.

  Though the house was empty except for the women and the servants, he closed the door behind him. He sat behind his desk, but he was soon up and pacing, hardly noticing he did it. He always did his best thinking while moving. And he had to think about how to proceed. He needed to figure out what to do to investigate the claim from the letter.

  The events it pertained to had occurred years ago, and no one had seen them as anything other than an accident. Since they involved the then prince and his wife as well as Bastien’s parents, he assumed someone would have looked into the matter back then. There was probably nothing to it, just someone trying to cause him grief for reasons known only to them. Perhaps to stir up turmoil for the royal family as well, since anyone would assume he’d go to Philip with the letter.

  Philip had to be told, but Bastien hesitated to. He didn’t want to make trouble when likely nothing could be done, and he didn’t want to cause his cousin more pain.

  But he couldn’t seem to let it go either, to rip the note up and burn the pieces and forget he ever received it. What if the claim in the letter was true? What then? Something had to be done. Such an accusation couldn’t go unanswered.

  He went to the desk and unlocked the center drawer. He pulled it open and moved a stack of papers until he reached the scrap underneath. The words were burned into his mind, but he read the blocky printing again anyway.

  It wasn’t an accident that killed your parents and Their Highnesses.

  He resisted the urge to crumble the note and toss it aside. If the allegation was true, his parents and Philip’s hadn’t been killed in a boating accident as they all had thought. If the note was true, they had been murdered.

  No, he couldn’t leave it alone.

  HOWEVER, WHEN THE day of Etan’s wedding arrived, Bastien hadn’t made any progress in his investigation. It didn’t help that he wasn’t entirely sure how to begin. Years had passed since his uncle and aunt, Prince Jeton and Princess Franca, had taken his parents sailing out of Jumelle on a beautiful, clear day, their boat crewed by experienced sailors from the royal navy. Bastien had been with Philip when someone came to bring them the news that the boat had gone down in a sudden storm, leaving both sets of parents dead and the crew either dead or lost. And leaving Philip crown prince far too soon, at an unexpectedly young age. Bastien had inherited the earldom that day, also far too soon for his liking.

  They’d had little time to mourn, either of them, as they picked up the burden of their duties. Like Philip, Bastien hadn’t wanted to rely too heavily on others, though his uncle, his father’s younger brother Ormand, had offered support. Bastien was an adult, and he would care for his lands and family himself, despite the tragic circumstances of his inheritance. Philip, he knew, had felt much the same, taking advice from his own uncle Umber and his advisors, but ruling himself.

  But they’d believed the event that led to their inheritance of title and throne had been a tragic accident. Now, he couldn’t look at that time the same way, knowing it might not have been so.

  Over the weeks leading up to the wedding, Bastien visited several of his father’s old friends and his uncle, trying to learn more about the day his parents died. He didn’t want to tell anyone of his suspicions and the note, not even his uncle. What if it wasn’t true? Or what if it was, but they could never prove it? He couldn’t distress others when he just didn’t know.

  Despite his doubts, for some reason he believed it was true, and the darkness in that belief pulled at him.

  In his search for proof, Bastien began his conversations with seemingly inconsequential things and then tried to subtly steer them to reminiscences of his father and the time he died. He hoped someone might have noticed something—anything—but he didn’t ask directly, and no one volunteered any valuable information. Nothing more than fond memories and expressions of sorrow.

  He couldn’t dismiss the possibility that his parents might not have been the targets at all. Perhaps his parents’ deaths were nothing more than a byproduct, as difficult as it was for him to think it, of an assassination of the crown prince. Bastien’s father had been powerful, but not in the way Prince Jeton was. It was far more likely that someone had chosen to assassinate the prince than to murder Bastien’s father, but nothing had happened afterward. There had been no grab for power, no attack, no attempt to control Philip. And he could not believe that Philip would have his own parents—and Bastien’s—murdered, to take the throne. Such a thought went contrary to everything he knew of his cousin.

  So what could the motive have been for an assassination?

  Unless there was something he didn’t know about his father; it was a notion he couldn’t forget once he’d thought it. His father hadn’t mentioned enemies, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t had any. It just meant he hadn’t shared the information with Bastien. Bastien had been working beside his father to learn all he could about their lands and business, but neither of them expected he’d have to shoulder those responsibilities for years—decades—to come.

  Only he had.

  Now he had this latest burden, which he’d have to share, despite his reluctance. He simply didn’t know enough about how to find more information, if there was any to be found. Philip would have to be told. Though Bastien hated the idea of reviving his cousin’s grief, Philip had to know. He would have more resources as well, people who could help Bastien in his search. Because he wouldn’t give up the investigation. He couldn’t put it in someone else’s hands and wait.

  With the decision made to tell Philip, Bastien wanted to go directly to the palace and do so, but he couldn’t bring himself to put a cloud over Etan’s wedding day. He could hold his own counsel for a little longer, could find patience, so Philip could enjoy his cousin’s wedding without the knowledge that his parents might have been murdered.

  He could give Philip—give all of them—that much, the one day. He’d do his best to not think of it himself for a night. He wasn’t certain what it would take for him to put it aside, or if it was even possible, but he was going to try.

  If only he could allow himself to drown his worries for one evening.

  As Bastien waited in the parlor for Griffen and Ligeia to be ready to leave for the wedding, he contemplated pouring himself just one drink. But there would be wine at the dinner and party to follow the afternoon wedding, and it wouldn’t do to arrive already drinking. He could hide his concerns from everyone without the help of alcohol. His siblings hadn’t noticed.

  Mathis sat at a small table in the corner, an open book and a sheaf of papers in front of him. Every so often, he would scribble something. It was rare to see Mathis without a book, though Bastien was certain even he wouldn’t sneak one into the wedding. Mostly certain. Bastien would have to watch him. At least Mathis was dressed for the event, his light brown hair neat, the pale blue sleeves of his wedding finery free of the ink smudges that so often stained his clothing.

  Ligeia swept into the parlor, looking utterly unlike herself. An elegant young woman appeared in place of the girl who spent most of her time with the horses. Her hair was curled, braided, and pinned up in a complicated arrangement. The gown, one of several she’d had made up with Elodie’s guidance, was apparently the height of fashion. The snug bodice scooped low at the neck and was trimmed with delicate lace and gold embroidery with just the slightest sparkle from a few beads worked into the design. Blue skirts flared out from the nipped-in waist, sweeping around her as she walked…with a bit of a wobble. It seemed Elodie had talked her into
heeled shoes after all.

  But even his gentle amusement couldn’t keep Bastien from staring. When had his baby sister grown up?

  “What is it?” Ligeia asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Mathis looked up at the sound of her voice, and he stared too.

  Bastien chuckled. “Doesn’t matter. You look lovely.”

  She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks pinked up a bit. Though Ligeia wasn’t a raving beauty, she’d always had a prettiness to her that was increased by her lively personality. Bastien was pleased to see the sparkle in her eyes hadn’t changed even with the new clothing. In fact, despite the slight wobble and the tense set to her shoulders in the unfamiliar gown, she looked happy, excited even.

  “Thank you. Even though you have to say that because you’re my brother.” She gave him a half smile.

  “We’re your brothers, but he’s not lying,” Mathis said, closing his book and going to Ligeia. He kissed her cheek. “You do look lovely.”

  “Thank you, Mathis.”

  “And now we just have to wait for Griffen,” Bastien said.

  “I might as well go back to my book. He’ll take twice as long as Ligeia did.” Mathis suited actions to words and walked back to his seat.

  “Should I be insulted?” Griffen stepped into the parlor behind Ligeia, an easy smile on his lips despite his words. He was dressed in well-tailored silk the deep blue-green of the sea, his hair arranged just so in its fashionable cut. He and Bastien looked so alike in build and features they’d been mistaken for twins more than once despite the years separating them. They shared the same thick bronze hair, the same height, the same eyes. But Griffen’s demeanor was far more carefree than Bastien’s.

  Bastien looked at him more closely. Today Griffen didn’t seem so carefree, and the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He looked almost…sad? Bastien frowned and opened his mouth, but Ligeia spoke first.

  “I’m wondering if I need to be insulted too.” She sent a glare Mathis’s way.

  “We can be insulted together all the way to the palace.” Griffen offered her his arm. She snorted out a laugh but took the arm, allowing Griffen to escort her from the parlor. Mathis looked at Bastien and shrugged. Leaving his book on the table, he followed them. Bastien narrowed his eyes; Mathis had to have a book on him somewhere or he wouldn’t have left so easily. Sighing, he decided he’d deal with that when the time came.

  He followed his siblings out into the small entry hall where they were putting on cloaks and hats. He accepted his own formal outerwear from a maid and donned it quickly, before ushering everyone outside. As soon as they were all seated in the waiting carriage, it rattled away over the cobbles of the lane, carrying them toward the palace and the wedding.

  Ligeia chattered to Griffen in the forward-facing seat, asking him questions about court and the wedding and the people who would be there. Of all of them, Griffen was the one who spent the most time at Philip’s court. Though he lived in the city, Mathis seemed to avoid anything unrelated to the university and his studies, and Bastien only came to Jumelle when he had to. Griffen’s replies were oddly hesitant, but he carried on speaking with Ligeia so Bastien let it go, instead focusing on the city outside the carriage window.

  Jumelle was lovely, Bastien could admit, even though he much preferred the countryside. Autumn had arrived, the summer heat mellowing away but the chill rains of late autumn and winter not yet beginning. Etan and Tristan had picked a perfect time for a wedding.

  As they approached the palace, the carriage slowed; they’d have to wait their turn to get through the gates and the guards stationed there. People milled about in the square, some pointing, children jumping up and down—all there to get a glimpse of the spectacle. Etan and Tristan’s wedding wouldn’t have the same pomp and formality as Philip and Amory’s, but the arriving nobility and wealthy citizens of Jumelle—those fortunate enough to have received an invitation—provided the spectators with something to see.

  Mathis pulled a small book from his pocket, confirming Bastien’s earlier suspicions, and read while the carriage inched forward. Bastien shook his head but said nothing for the moment. If Mathis produced the book during the ceremony or celebration, they’d have words.

  They finally made it to the palace gates where the guards checked them off the list and allowed the carriage to pass. The driver followed the long line of carriages through the grounds to the palace’s main entrance. On any other day, for any other visit, Bastien would have been on horseback and gone directly to the stables, but that wouldn’t do today.

  When they finally arrived, a servant opened the carriage door. Bastien climbed down and moved a few steps away to allow Mathis, who had secreted the book away again, to follow. Next came Griffen who turned to reach a hand back offering assistance to Ligeia. She then took his arm, and they all walked into the palace together. More servants whisked their cloaks and hats away, and they joined the wedding guests milling about the palace’s grand entry hall.

  The large room, with its marble floor and soaring ceiling, was crowded but not a crush, for which Bastien was thankful as they threaded through the guests. The hall had always been somewhat intimidating to him—probably the intention of the grand design. Its sweeping staircase, the open gallery on the floor above with its ornate columns, the art placed strategically around the room… It all inspired a sense of awe in the visitor, and Bastien was no exception. Their country house, though large and comfortable, and the house in Jumelle, were obviously much less extravagant than the palace, but it was more that his life at Ardesia was far removed from anything close to court life.

  He was used to his more simple life, but he had to represent his family here, and he wanted to celebrate with Etan as well.

  Bastien nodded to acquaintances, stopping to chat when he had to, and made a point of introducing his sister to those who didn’t know or wouldn’t remember her. She’d been very young when they attended Philip and Amory’s wedding, too young to officially take part in court events, and her absence from Jumelle meant that few were acquainted with her. She hadn’t even been formally presented at court, something that had completely slipped Bastien’s mind until that moment. If his parents had been alive, she’d have been presented at the proper time. The whole thing was ridiculous, since she was the prince’s cousin and Philip wasn’t strict when he didn’t have to be, but the rules and proprieties still had to be observed. Her attendance at Etan’s wedding wasn’t a problem, due to the—somewhat tenuous—familial connection. Anything else would be.

  He’d have to make the arrangements—he had no idea how to go about it, but he’d figure it out. Maybe they could get the whole thing over with before they left for home. Of course, he might be in Jumelle longer than he’d like what with the problem of the note, so they’d probably have plenty of time for it.

  He pushed the thought of the note, what it meant, and what he had to do about it out of his mind. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t dwell on it until after the wedding.

  Thankfully, at that point, the guests were ushered into the large room where the ceremony would be performed. They settled into their chairs, and Bastien glanced around as the other guests did the same. It wasn’t the same room where Philip and Amory had wed; that one had been larger—necessary to accommodate the enormous guest list. Etan and Tristan had managed a smaller event, which he’d heard from Cathal had been their goal. But Etan was still a member of the royal family, son of a royal duke, and the number of people attending was by no means small.

  The room was decorated elegantly with swags of white and silver fabric and fragrant flowers that must have been grown in hot houses as few were in season. The late afternoon light streamed through the windows, warm and golden, setting the glass in the chandeliers to glowing.

  On one side of Bastien, Griffen murmured to Ligeia and made subtle gestures pointing out people in the crowd. On his other side, Mathis sat, not talking to anyone but not trying to read either, for which Bastien
was profoundly grateful. Mathis could take a little while away from his books and studies.

  The princes were announced, and everyone stood, only to drop into curtsies or bows as Philip and Amory walked into the room arm in arm. They were dressed formally for the wedding, both in deep royal purple silk and velvet. While they weren’t dressed alike, the styles of their clothing complemented each other, and the intricate embroidery at cuff and hem matched. They wore the circlets of their rank on their heads, the delicately worked gold seeming to rest easily on both Philip’s dark hair and Amory’s auburn curls.

  Not so long ago, Amory hadn’t looked near so comfortable with his role and the trappings of it, but he’d done all that was asked of him—he’d likely get through anything for Philip. The role of prince seemed to have settled well onto Amory. He moved along the aisle on Philip’s arm at ease among the crowd. And more than that, he appeared happy.

  They both looked happy. Certainly, they had to be delighted about the event they attended today, the union of people they cared about—Amory’s friend Tristan marrying Philip’s cousin Etan. But Bastien also knew that much of the joy they were almost incandescent with stemmed only from the fact that they were together. Bastien wondered if they were remembering their own wedding day, one that had involved far more people and pomp than today’s but had also seemed intimate every time Philip and Amory looked at each other.

  Bastien hadn’t realized how unhappy Philip had been until he’d seen him with Amory for the first time, seen how joy lightened his entire being. He’d understood then why Philip had flaunted tradition to marry Amory. Happiness might not have been a concern for many when thinking of a ruler, but Bastien could see how Amory helped Philip, how he made Philip better. How Amory alleviated a loneliness in Philip that Bastien hadn’t been aware of until it was gone.