The Scholar's Heart (Chronicles of Tournai Book 3) Page 4

  Etan nodded absently as he thought, but the idea intrigued him. “You’ll report your findings regularly.”

  “Of course, and discuss what I’ve found with you and Their Highnesses before I actually do anything to the protections themselves.”

  “Good. All right. Where will you begin?”

  Savarin’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction and anticipation. “Since I’ve found nothing in the university libraries or in the palace library when I was given leave to research in it, I’m going to start with the protections themselves. I’ll see what I can glean from the magic by feel and also map out where the protections might be weaker or stronger.”

  “Do so.” And Etan might be able to help with the other part of Savarin’s task. In fact, he was rather eager to do so. “I can search some archives that only the prince and a select few of the family have access to. If there are mentions of the protections, I’ll give you the information.”

  Savarin opened his mouth to speak but Etan shook his head. “I can’t give you access to the archives. Information contained there cannot get out. And the archives are magically protected—only members of the royal family can be granted access.” And only some members at that. A bloodline spell, that a family member had to be keyed in to, protected the archives, and not everyone had been over the years.

  Savarin gave in gracefully. “I’d be grateful for any information you might find, my lord.”

  “And I look forward to hearing your findings.”

  TRISTAN DRAGGED himself up the stairs. The less thought about his day at the company offices the better. Not that he could push it from his mind entirely. All too often since his father died, he’d felt overwhelmed. He’d gone to university and gotten the best education to be had in Jumelle. Father had taught him all there was to know about the business, and Tristan had spent years in the shipping company’s offices and at the docks with his father, observing everything. After all that, he thought he’d be ready when he took over. He also thought he’d have decades longer before he had to take over, years to work beside his father.

  Unexpected illness that had gone unnoticed too long had ended that possibility.

  Still he’d believed he was ready, believed he had the knowledge and experience necessary to make a start. Until the first time he’d stepped into the offices without his father beside him. Then he’d realized how little his knowledge meant, how little experience he actually had. The business was still running, to be sure—it was still running well and profitably. He wasn’t driving his family into poverty.

  But he wasn’t doing it with any sort of ease. Overwhelmed was a minor description for his state of mind, and it never let up. He lived in constant bewilderment, certain he had no idea what he should be doing and that what he was doing was all wrong. Oh, he knew he wasn’t doing everything wrong—he couldn’t be—but he felt as if he was, and he couldn’t get a handle on everything he needed to, couldn’t make it feel less like he was trying to juggle balls and knives and other sundry items without dropping anything or causing damage.

  He wondered if he ever would.

  For the moment, he was just happy to be done with it and home. He planned to visit Bria, change, eat dinner, and then let Bria sleep against his chest while he read something utterly frivolous. He could manage that, he figured, without worrying about work or whether what he was doing was bad for Bria. She was healthy and growing, and seemed perfectly happy for him to cuddle her while he relaxed. Plan firmly in mind and giving him a more pleasant outlook for the evening, he moved with a little more bounce in his steps into his daughter’s nursery.

  And stopped.

  “Mother, I didn’t know you were here.” But he should have. The dog wasn’t in his usual spot outside the nursery door. His mother was the only one who shooed the dog away and then ordered him put outside when he wouldn’t stay away. Tristan tried telling her he didn’t mind Indigo appointing himself Bria’s guard, but she would have none of it. Her horror at the very thought seemed to be yet one more reason she found Tristan incapable of caring for Bria on his own.

  Mother looked up at him and smiled. She sat in the rocking chair with Bria cradled in her arms. Bria wore a white dress covered in froths of pristine lace. Tristan was certain he’d never seen it before, and just as certain it wasn’t likely to remain pristine for long.

  “Good evening, Tristan.” Mother tilted her cheek for his kiss. “I came to visit Bria.”

  “And brought her a gift, I see. Weren’t you here with her yesterday?”

  “I can’t visit my granddaughter more than once?” She fixed him with an arch look that threatened to make him feel very small. But he’d noticed her visits were increasing in frequency. She’d visited five times already that week—one day she’d visited twice. He was beginning to wonder if she was visiting because she wanted to see her granddaughter or because she wanted to make sure he wasn’t neglecting her in some way.

  But he couldn’t say so.

  “Of course you can, Mother.” He wanted very much to ask her if he could hold Bria, but Mother seemed unlikely to give her up at the moment. He’d have to bide his time. “How are you? How are Selene and my brothers?”

  “Good. Which you’d know if you lived at home where you and Bria belong.”

  He bit back a sigh. She never would understand why he chose to move into his own house when he married, or why he chose to stay in his own home and not move back to hers. “We’re just fine here. And I see all of you often.”

  “The boys need their older brother. You’re all they have now that your father died.”

  “I saw them two days ago. They know they’re always welcome here.” He would not allow her to guilt him into moving back into the family’s house. He couldn’t.

  Mother sniffed and looked back down at Bria. “She looks well.”

  He wondered if she truly expected to come here and find Bria in horrible conditions, but he couldn’t believe she would think that of him, no matter what she believed about babies needing to be raised by women. “She is. Growing every day.”

  At a month old, Bria was larger and stronger than the delicate-looking infant she’d been at her birth. She had turned into a chubby-cheeked, bright-eyed baby with a full head of hair. He was far less scared of breaking her now.

  “So I see. Before we know it, she won’t be a baby anymore. She’ll be a little girl and then a young lady.”

  Tristan laughed. “Don’t rush the years away too quickly, Mother.”

  “But the time does move quickly, Tristan. Trust me, I know.” She looked back up at him, catching him with the intensity of her stare. “And what will you do when she’s a young girl who needs guidance?”

  His stomach sank. “Mother.”

  “Tristan, she’s going to need a mother, a woman to raise her and guide her. You wouldn’t know anything about turning her into the young lady she needs to be to make a proper marriage.”

  “As her grandmother, I’m sure you’ll give her guidance when she needs it.” But he wondered how many of his mother’s rigid beliefs about what was proper for a young lady he really wanted his daughter to absorb.

  “But I won’t be with her every day because you won’t let me take her home with me.”

  “Because her home is with me.” He was not going to have this argument again. He’d thought over the last few weeks they’d laid it to rest. “She’ll stay here, and I will raise her.”

  “But you can’t do it on your own.”

  “I can.” He said it with all the confidence he could muster, putting up a facade he hoped his mother wouldn’t be able to see through. Because he was still terrified if he thought too hard about being a father.

  “Oh, Tristan. You think so, but little girls need mothers. All babies do, but especially girls. She needs more than just you.” Mother looked so kind, so concerned, and Tristan felt vaguely ill. He refused to let himself believe her, but doubts still plagued him. “You need to marry again.”

  “What?”
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  “Don’t look at me like that. You can’t possibly be surprised.” Her expression turned incredulous with just an edge of pity to it. “Bria needs a mother, and you need a wife. You need sons.”

  Tristan managed to find his voice again with some difficulty. “Even if I wanted to marry again, which I don’t at this point, don’t you think it’s a little soon? The mourning period for Dariela isn’t near over yet.”

  “No, you can’t marry until your mourning period is over. But that doesn’t mean you can’t consider your options and begin looking for a wife. If you choose quickly, you can marry as soon as you’re out of mourning.” Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. “I’ve let you alone about this for a month, which we both know is plenty of time considering your feelings for Dariela.”

  “My feelings for her?” Tristan echoed, unable to quite figure out what to say. “I don’t understand.”

  “You aren’t going to tell me your marriage was a love match, are you? We both know that’s a lie. I could see you liked her well enough, but you didn’t love Dariela, and you don’t need to pretend to tender feelings with me. It’s all to the good, because you can start looking for a wife sooner.”

  He knew his mother couldn’t intend to sound quite as callous as she did. She couldn’t.

  “I may not have been in love with her, but I did respect her, and I do respect her memory. I’m not going to begin planning a new marriage when she’s only been gone a month.” He shook his head, forestalling another argument from his mother. “I am fine as I am. Bria is fine. I do not need a wife.”

  He wished he could believe that would be the end of the issue.

  “HAVE YOU heard from Savarin?” Philip asked Etan as he, Amory, and Philip lingered over lunch. The morning had been a trying one, and none of them were ready to wade back into it for the afternoon. They wouldn’t be able to delay long, but a few extra moments were welcome.

  “This morning. He’s working his way along part of the eastern border, examining the magical protections there. It sounds slow-going. He seems to be investigating every inch of the border to see where the protections are and how strong they are.”

  “Sounds like it could take him years at that pace,” Amory said.

  “Probably not quite so long. But he is being thorough, so it won’t be quick. He’s talking about hiring a boat and following the coastline to see if the protections extend beyond the shore.”

  “Interesting,” Philip said. “Does he really think they might?”

  Etan shrugged. “He believes it’s worth hiring a boat to find out.”

  “I’m intrigued to hear what he finds.”

  “Me too,” Amory said. “I’ve always heard about magical protections around Tournai, but they’re talked about as legends.”

  “I think a lot has been forgotten about them,” Etan mused. “Legends can be helpful. Their mysteriousness adds to the strength of Tournai. But it would be good for us to know more.”

  “Have you found anything in your research?”

  Etan shook his head and sat back in his chair. “Not yet. I need to go further back in the archive. These protections have been around as long as we have, it seems. I have to look at older documents to see if any information about them exists.”

  “Let us know what you find,” Philip said.

  “Of course. You’ll be the first.” He’d inform Savarin too, but Philip and Amory would know before him. Etan hoped the information would be easy to give to Savarin and not too entwined with information about and accounts of the royal family’s Talent. If it was, they’d have to decide what to tell Savarin together.

  A knock on the dining room door interrupted their conversation. Donatien, Philip’s secretary, stepped into the room at Philip’s call. He bowed to them. “Your Highness, Lord Bastien and Lord Griffen have arrived.”

  “Thank you, Donatien. Please escort them to the study. We’ll meet them there.”

  “Bastien came with him,” Etan said after the door closed behind Donatien. “He must be upset.”

  Bastien and Griffen were Philip’s cousins on his mother’s side. Though, if Etan remembered correctly, there was a tenuous connection to the royal family as well—a princess marrying one of Bastien and Griffen’s ancestors many generations back. Bastien was the oldest son in the family and had inherited his title at the same time Philip inherited the throne, his parents killed in the same accident that took Philip’s.

  “How upset is he likely to be?” Amory asked. “I’ve only met him twice, I think.”

  That was probably true. Bastien was much happier outside the city and, more often than not, stayed on his family’s land where they bred horses. He’d probably only been to Jumelle a couple of times since Amory and Philip met, and one of those was for Amory and Philip’s wedding.

  “He’s not going to be happy. But I need to know what happened from Griffen.” Philip stood. “Let’s go see what we can do. Etan, join us?”

  “Really?” He’d already been thinking about stealing an hour in the archives. “Why do you need me?”

  “Why should we have all the joy of breaking up a fight between siblings when we can share it with you?” Philip laughed at what Etan was certain was the horror on his face. “Also this does have to do with a diplomatic mission.”

  “Which makes it more than you trying to keep one of your cousins from murdering the other.” Etan sighed and stood. “All right. But are you sure you don’t want Cathal instead?”

  Philip shook his head and led the way to the study without another word. The incident that brought Griffen to them was certainly why Philip had called this meeting in his study. Bastien and Griffen were cousins to Philip, and while he might not be as close to them as he was to Etan and his siblings, he had a good and friendly relationship with them. They could have met in Philip and Amory’s suite, but that would have made the entire meeting about family, and Etan was well aware Philip needed it to be more than that.

  Philip sat behind his desk with Amory beside him. Etan hadn’t even found a chair yet when Donatien opened the door and ushered Bastien and Griffen into the room. The brothers resembled each other so closely they were often mistaken for twins, even though Bastien was the elder by a few years. They shared the same height and build, the same coloring and chiseled features, the same thick bronze hair. They had two other siblings, a younger brother studying at the university and a younger sister who left their estate even less frequently than Bastien did. Neither of the younger two looked as much like their older siblings.

  At the moment, the biggest difference between Bastien and Griffen was the simmering anger on Bastien’s face and the carefully blank expression on Griffen’s.

  Bastien and Griffen bowed as Donatien left the room.

  “Come in, both of you,” Philip said. “I didn’t even realize you were in the city, Bastien.”

  “I came in for the spring horse fair.” Bastien looked at Griffen through narrowed eyes. “I arrived at the house late last night to find that Griffen had just arrived as well, even though he was supposed to be in Kavalas assisting the ambassador there. And then I found out why.”

  Griffen had always wanted to travel. Etan remembered him talking about far off places he wanted to visit when they were children. Griffen had found an outlet for it at university when he began studying diplomacy with an eye to becoming an ambassador someday and had been so proud to receive his first overseas assignment, assisting the ambassador to Kavalas. Bastien always doubted his brother had the temperament for it, and he was probably seeing this incident as proof. It wouldn’t be pleasant for Griffen at home for a while.

  Griffen winced slightly, and Etan didn’t blame him. Bastien’s voice had risen with every word he’d spoken, and he finished on something like a muted roar. “Bastien—”

  Bastien cut off his brother. “I don’t want to hear excuses from you, Griffen. You were sent home from a diplomatic mission you were assigned by the crown prince because you dallied with a foreign dignitary.�
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  “I didn’t—”

  “I told you I didn’t want excuses. You can’t do this. You proposition whomever you please and don’t expect consequences. When are you ever going to learn and grow up?”

  “Bastien.” Philip’s quiet voice cut across Bastien’s voice and silenced him instantly. “With the horse fair beginning, I’m certain you have other things to do this afternoon. There’s no need for you to stay here and interfere with your day’s schedule any more than you already have.”

  Etan was almost positive Philip wanted to tell Bastien not to interfere with something else entirely, but there wasn’t a hint of that in his tone.

  “Philip, I need to stay and hear what my brother thought he was doing.”

  “You don’t. This isn’t a matter for family—it’s a matter for me to deal with as prince. Go. You’ve made the trip into the city for the fair. Don’t waste it.” Philip fixed Bastien with a stare to back up his words until Bastien finally nodded.

  “I’ll see you at the house later,” Bastien said to Griffen, and Etan recognized the tone as one he’d heard from his own older brothers in his youth. He’d never liked hearing it. “You can tell me what happened.”

  Griffen seemed to sag a bit where he stood once the door closed behind Bastien. “Thank you, Philip. I appreciate it.”

  Philip turned his stare on Griffen. “Don’t think you’re out of the woods yet. You have to contend with me.”

  Griffen snapped his spine straight again. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Philip smiled slightly. “Tell me what happened. I have a letter from the ambassador, but I want to hear it from you too.”

  “Yes, Your Highness. I know it sounds terrible to say, but it really wasn’t my fault.” Griffen winced again, and Etan right along with him, when Philip’s gaze sharpened. “I could have handled what happened better, but I didn’t start it. One of the Kavalan princes, a younger son, propositioned me. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to take him up on it, and frankly, I didn’t find him all that attractive. Certainly not enough to risk international incident if the affair didn’t end amicably.”