The Dragon's Devotion (Chronicles of Tournai Book 5) Page 5
“I’m so sorry, Master Corentin. We’ve been ignoring you, haven’t we?” Vita’s voice broke into Corentin’s musings, and he forced his attention to her, feeling a bit bereft at the lost connection. “Or perhaps we’ve been overwhelming you. This lot can be a bit much to take.”
He returned her smile with a polite one of his own, trying to shake off the odd feeling. “Not at all. I’m afraid my mind has been wandering, trying to put names to some of the faces among the guests. I know few people here.”
She laughed. “We don’t know many ourselves, not personally. We’re only university scholars. I’m happy Etan invited us.”
“I’m honored to be invited myself. But surely Lord Etan would want you all at his wedding. You’re his friends.”
Another pretty smile. “One would hope. But you never know at these court events. If you’re attempting to put names to faces, I can try to help, though I probably don’t know everyone. The only time I’m anywhere near court is when Etan invites me, and he doesn’t much because he knows I prefer the university.”
“A sensible preference.”
“Well, I think so. All right, who do you know or don’t?”
He wasn’t all that interested to be honest. Well…except for the intriguing bronze-haired man. “I recognize everyone at the table with Lord Etan, of course. And I assume that is Lord Etan’s immediate family.”
“Yes.” Vita ran through the names, pointing out mother, brother, sisters, and the husband of the oldest sister. She moved on to Tristan’s family, though she hastened to tell him she hadn’t met any of them except the brother who had been his witness at the ceremony.
“What about them?” Corentin asked finally, tilting his head toward the man he was interested in.
“Oh that’s Griffen. No—wait, sorry. That’s Lord Bastien, Earl of Ardesia. Griffen is his younger brother. They look so alike they could be twins.”
Two men who looked like that? But there was something in this man’s eyes that made him even more arresting than his appearance. He and his brother both couldn’t be so intriguing. And why was Corentin so interested in the first place?
“Who are they?”
“Cousins of Prince Philip. His Highness’s mother was their father’s sister. I believe the young lady next to him is his sister, but I’ve never met her. The man she’s talking to is their youngest brother. He’s studying at the university. Griffen is friends with Etan, and Tristan as well, so we know him.”
“But not his older brother?”
If Vita thought the questions were odd, she didn’t show any sign of it. “No, I’ve never met him. He spends most of his time on their estate. Their family breeds horses, some of the finest in Tournai, if not the finest.”
He nodded. So the object of his interest was an earl and a first cousin to the prince. Interesting. But the summary didn’t tell him what he wanted to know about Lord Bastien, not really. Of course, it was unlikely he could get that information from Vita.
“Vita!” A tall bearded man—Stefan, Corentin remembered—got their attention from Vita’s other side. “Do you remember the time Etan fell in the fountain?”
“I remember he had a lot of help getting into that situation. From you,” Vita said, but there was laughter in her voice. “Do you really want to tell that story at Etan’s wedding?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re incorrigible. If you’re going to tell it, at least tell it right.”
“I always tell it right,” Stefan protested, with almost exaggerated insult.
“Of course you do.” Vita’s eye roll was subtle but eloquent. “All right, tell it then.”
“Thank you.”
“But I’ll make sure to correct anything you get wrong.”
The others laughed at Vita’s words, and even Corentin smiled. As the next course was served, he listened to Stefan tell a crazy story about Etan, with Vita interjecting dry corrections. And if as he ate and listened, his eyes strayed across the room to Lord Bastien, what did it matter? It was just a bit of harmless interest.
AFTER THE LONG dinner, which finished with a truly decadent and beautifully decorated cake, the celebration continued with dancing. Bastien partnered Ligeia for the first dance of the evening and then stood aside as Griffen and then Mathis danced with her as well. Bastien tucked himself away beside a large flower arrangement, sipped his wine, and watched them dance. Ligeia had had lessons—Bastien had made certain they continued—and she was graceful on the floor, perhaps more graceful than Mathis who probably didn’t dance much in his quest to live in the university library. Bastien could only be happy he hadn’t pulled the book out of his pocket again.
Griffen danced with Elodie, the princess far more herself than the last couple of times Bastien had seen her. She’d been quick to tire and quieter than usual but had insisted there was nothing to worry about, that she’d only been recovering from a minor illness. Her dismissal hadn’t stopped their concern, but she seemed fine. Unsurprisingly, her deep rose gown was even more elaborate than Ligeia’s; Elodie always had liked pretty things. She smiled and laughed at whatever Griffen said to her as he led her through the dance, being careful of her despite her apparent strength, which Bastien was happy to see.
Philip and Amory were dancing together as well, Philip’s dark head bent close to Amory’s auburn curls. Whatever Philip whispered to Amory made a sweet, affectionate smile curve Amory’s lips. Bastien looked away. The moment seemed too private for him to watch, despite it occurring amidst a crowd, as if Philip and Amory created their own bubble of intimacy in the middle of the grand ballroom. They lived so much in the eye of everyone else; they’d certainly have to take what moments they could. Bastien didn’t think he could ever survive that level of scrutiny. Being earl was difficult enough.
Bastien caught sight of Etan and Tristan as they danced—it seemed they didn’t much notice anyone around them either. Tristan brushed a kiss over Etan’s lips and then laughed, a clear, bright sound that carried over the music and voices. Bastien doubted the couple would stay one moment longer than they had to tonight, and no one could blame them.
Bastien glanced around the room. He couldn’t hide away forever. But if possible, he’d rather ease himself into the social obligation and the kind of talk that went with it—the carefully chosen words, the veiled meanings. Yes, he was at a wedding, but it was still court. There were few who were truly genuine.
His gaze hesitated without conscious thought on the man with the violet eyes who had stared at him at dinner. He’d been seated with the people invited from the university, so Bastien assumed he was affiliated with the university in some way, even though he didn’t seem to know them well. He’d spoken to them, was conversing with one of them now, but he didn’t appear to be a part of their group.
Perhaps Bastien had done some staring of his own.
But there was something about him—who had violet eyes so bright, so intense? Bastien didn’t think he’d ever known anyone with violet eyes. The rest of him was just as appealing—copper skin and unfashionably long, dark hair that brushed his shoulders, an interesting contrast to his most definitely fashionable attire, which complemented a tall, powerfully built frame. Bastien wasn’t short, but this man would stand well taller than he did.
Bastien tore his eyes away before his thoughts could stray into dangerous territory. He had more important things to think about than a handsome stranger. Spotting Cathal and Flavian, Bastien made his way in their direction, threading his way through the guests, keeping well away from the stranger with the violet eyes.
Cathal and Flavian weren’t alone when Bastien reached him, but there was welcome in Cathal’s smile nevertheless. “Good evening, Bastien.”
“Good evening, Cathal, Flavian.”
Bastien clasped hands with both men in greeting. Cathal and his husband had struck Bastien initially as an odd pairing. Physically, the differences couldn’t be more obvious—Cathal had the dark hair, stature, and classic fea
tures that ran in Tournai’s royal family while Flavian was short and slender with bright red-gold hair and blue-green eyes. More, Cathal had always been a sober and proper man, though charming as well, as most thought a duke’s heir—now duke—should be, while Flavian was a sharp-tongued artist, talented and a bit volatile. Somehow they fit.
Cathal returned his hand to Flavian’s waist and turned to the two men with them. “Faelen, Alexander, do you remember Lord Bastien, Philip’s cousin through his mother? Bastien, you remember my cousins, Faelen and Alexander? They were here for Philip’s wedding of course, but they haven’t lived in Tournai for years.”
“We haven’t lived here since we were children.” Alexander—and Bastien only knew that from Cathal’s gestures—glanced at his twin when he said it.
Faelen added a softly voiced agreement. “Father became ambassador to Teilo when we were about nine. We’ve spent more of our lives there than here.”
The twins were nearly identical, but as Bastien studied them, he could pick up subtle differences. Though they were members of the royal family, they hadn’t inherited the height that usually marked royal men. They were short, about Flavian’s height, with Alexander a hair taller. Both had nearly shoulder-length hair so dark it could’ve been black but glowed red in the light of the chandeliers; Faelen ’s fell in loose curls while Alexander’s was more a tumble of waves. Their eyes were bright peridot, and their faces walked a line between beautiful and sensual that was extremely compelling.
“Have you returned to stay or are you visiting for Etan’s wedding?” Bastien asked.
“Our mother is returning to Teilo, but we and our older brother aren’t,” Alexander said. “Our brother will be living with our grandfather to help manage the family’s affairs.”
“But we’ll be staying in Jumelle and finishing our studies at the university. Philip was gracious enough to invite us to stay here at the palace,” Faelen continued.
“Philip and Amory were happy to,” Flavian said. “We’ll all enjoy having you here.”
“Thank you, Flavian,” Alexander said.
Bastien tried to ignore the sudden prickling on the back of his neck, the feeling of being watched. Somehow he knew who would be watching if he turned. He refused to turn. He focused so hard on refusing to turn he barely followed the conversation going on around him, unforgivable in this setting. Yes, he was with family after a fashion, but he was also at court, and he couldn’t be distracted at court. Yet he couldn’t help being distracted. Why was he being watched? How had he caught this man’s interest?
Alexander leaned toward Bastien, a gleam in his eye, and spoke in a voice low enough to reach only Bastien’s ears. “Who is he?”
“Who is who?”
“The rather attractive man with the unusual eyes who keeps watching you.” A knowing smile curved Alexander’s lips.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
One slender eyebrow went up. “You don’t know that he’s been watching you? I find that very hard to believe.”
Bastien stared into the twinkling green eyes, trying to decide if Alexander was annoying or if he was actually charming but mischievous and Bastien was too rattled to find him so. He had no idea.
“I don’t know who he is.”
“Well that’s exciting.” Alexander turned to Cathal and Flavian and insinuated himself into a break in the conversation. “Cathal, can you tell me who that man is? The tall one with the violet eyes.”
Cathal, Flavian, and Faelen all followed the direction of Alexander’s nod, and Bastien thought longingly of escape, which had been his purpose for coming over here to begin with.
It was Flavian who answered. “That’s Master Corentin. He’s a visiting scholar at the university. Etan and he share some scholarly interests. And he helped when Tristan’s daughter was kidnapped.”
“Tristan’s daughter was kidnapped? That’s awful,” Faelen said.
Cathal nodded. “Last spring. Master Corentin was able to use his Talent to help. Between his and Master Savarin’s spells, they were able to determine where to look for her.”
“And the baby was all right?” The twinkle of mischief and flirtatiousness was gone from Alexander’s eyes, replaced with seriousness and concern in a shift so abrupt it was shocking.
“She wasn’t harmed,” Flavian said. “Thankfully. I’m not sure what Tristan and Etan would have done otherwise.”
“Let’s not think about it. It’s over and done, and she’s safe.” Cathal pulled Flavian a fraction closer to his side.
“And this Master Corentin used his Talent to help find her? He must have some power,” Alexander said.
“I don’t know much about it, but I suppose so.” Cathal tightened his arm around Flavian, provoking a smile from his husband. “Flavian was there when he did whatever he did.”
Bastien wasn’t surprised by Cathal’s vagueness—the royal family members had no Talents of their own. Magic had never run in the family, as far as he knew. Philip and Elodie hadn’t even inherited the Talent for animal healing that ran in Bastien’s family through his aunt, their mother. Not that it would have been a particularly useful Talent for them to possess.
Flavian nodded. “I was, but I couldn’t tell you anything more about it. I heard Master Savarin was interested in what he did, though. It was something he hadn’t seen before.”
How often did that happen? Everyone knew Savarin was the most powerful sorcerer in the country. If he hadn’t heard of a spell, it truly was saying something. Who was Corentin? Where did he come from?
“He’s looking at you again,” Alexander said.
And why was he watching Bastien?
Well, Bastien probably knew why. But really, out of everyone here, Corentin was interested in him?
“What’s going on?” Faelen asked.
“You should dance with him,” Alexander said, the twinkle back.
“Who should Bastien dance with? Master Corentin?” Cathal’s brows drew together, his forehead wrinkling.
“No,” Bastien said in answer to Alexander’s question.
“Why not? It’s a party. He seems interested. Enjoy yourself,” Alexander said. “Unless there’s someone else? I didn’t think to ask.”
“Sometimes you need to think more, dear,” Faelen said gently, a smile flirting with the edges of his mouth.
“Hey.”
“No, there isn’t someone else, and there isn’t anything with Master Corentin either.” Bastien didn’t much care for someone he didn’t know—whether or not he was Philip’s cousin and whether or not Bastien remembered him—interrogating him about this situation.
“Is everything all right, Bastien?” Cathal asked.
“Fine. Everything is fine.” Nothing was fine. Even if he’d told himself he could ignore the note and the possibility of his parents and aunt and uncle being murdered for one day, he couldn’t. It was there, lurking in the back of his mind all the time, and he couldn’t even handle a man’s interest in him. Normally, he wouldn’t be so unhinged by someone, man or woman, looking at him—and this was a rather gorgeous man, a man Bastien had something of a fascination with as well for some reason. But he didn’t really want to think of that either. It was ridiculous. “I’m fine.”
Cathal didn’t look convinced, and Bastien couldn’t blame him. “If you say so.”
“I do,” he said, making his voice firm and trying not to see whether anyone flinched. Cathal was a friend, and he doubted the twins meant any harm, but still.
“All right,” Cathal said slowly, concern in his eyes. “If you need anything…”
Bastien shook his head. “Not now, Cathal, but thank you.”
“But you’ll tell me when you do?”
“If there is something, of course I’ll tell you.” He wasn’t sure there would be, or if he would tell Cathal. But then, Philip seemed to share most things with Cathal and Etan, in addition to Amory, so Cathal would probably find out what was really troubling Bastien soon enough.
“No, thank you. But if you could somehow keep Mathis from sneaking off to read, I would appreciate it,” he said, trying some diversion of his own.
“He’s trying to read at a party?” Alexander sounded horrified.
“There’s nothing wrong with reading,” Faelen said.
Alexander turned his horror on his brother. “But not at a party. Especially not a wedding celebration at the royal palace.”
“True,” Faelen answered.
An involuntary smile tried to curve Bastien’s lips at the back and forth between Faelen and Alexander, but he fought it. “You can see my predicament.”
CORENTIN MINGLED AMONG the guests at the celebration that followed dinner. He’d danced with Vita and chatted with others from the university, but then he’d taken his wine and began to wander. He had yet to speak to Etan to offer his congratulations—Etan and his husband had spent the party either dancing or surrounded by other well-wishers—but he’d have to. It was expected and only polite, and he didn’t want to be anything except polite while at the royal palace.
A servant refilled his goblet with more ruby-red wine, and he sipped as he gazed around the room once more. The man who’d caught his eye—Lord Bastien, cousin to Prince Philip—was conversing with Duke Cathal and his husband and two men Corentin had never seen before. Why did Bastien fascinate him so? Certainly he was handsome, but there were many handsome men and beautiful woman here tonight.
And still, Corentin only had eyes for Bastien.
If he knew what was good for him, he’d congratulate the happy couple and slip out quietly, not drawing attention to himself any more than he had. He could find company elsewhere if he really needed it.
It seemed he didn’t know what was good for him.
He propped a shoulder against the wall and sipped his wine, trying to be unobtrusive as he watched Bastien. He glanced at the dancers, the other guests, but always kept Bastien in the edge of his vision. He had to figure out what it was about this man. Something in the way he looked? Not his physical appearance, appealing as it was, but the look in his eye, perhaps. Something that told him there was more to this man than a vapid courtier.