Page 73 of A Kingdom Threatened (The Vazula Chronicles 3)

Her eyes found Merletta, narrowing with purpose.

Judging that she’d well and truly achieved her purpose, Merletta dove back down into the throng. Merpeople surrounded her at once, plying her with a dozen questions she had no opportunity to answer. Freja appeared suddenly, seizing Merletta’s arm and dragging her through the crowd.

“Our patrol is done. We’re going back to the Center.”

“I’ll swim alone,” Merletta said quickly. “No need for you to travel with me.”

“You came to Tilssted with us,” Freja said in a voice that brooked no argument. “Which means you’re my responsibility until we see you safely back to the Center.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Merletta said in an urgent undertone. “I never meant for you and the others to get caught up in this.”

Freja studied her out of hard eyes for a moment, then continued to tug her away from the crowd, apparently disregarding her words completely.

“It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Merletta.”

“With respect, Freja,” Merletta said quietly, “I disagree. I’m well aware of the danger—perhaps more than you are—but this isn’t a game. It’s these merpeople’s lives. It’s all of our lives.”

Freja gave her a look that was impossible to read, then turned toward the Center. With one curt command, the squad fell into formation behind her, Merletta somehow ending up at their center.

The gesture almost brought tears to Merletta’s eyes, in spite of the fact that she could tell Freja was angry with her. At least she would be sure to make it back to the Center in one piece on this occasion.

She was under no illusions as to the future, though. Freja and her squad couldn’t protect her any more than Sage and the others could. Merletta had crossed a line she couldn’t go back from.

And she had no doubt whatsoever that there would be repercussions.

Chapter Twenty

Heath hardly saw the corridor around him as he strode through the castle. His thoughts were far away and far below, as they had been almost constantly since his visit to Vazula the day before. He ran a hand distractedly through his hair, trying to focus his farsight.

He’d never wanted it to work more desperately, but he still couldn’t see anything but Merletta’s features. She was underwater, that much was clear. She seemed to be in a crowd as well, given the way she kept brushing against people. But what was the event? Was she taking her stand, as she’d declared herself ready to do?

Heath found that both hands were tangled in his hair now, and he lowered them with an effort. A passing servant threw him a startled glance, and he realized he must look like his mind was disordered. He couldn’t help it. He was terrified for Merletta, even as he admired her courage in the face of overwhelming opposition.

If he was that courageous, maybe the situation for the power-wielders would be very different.

He saw Merletta moving, seeming to rise up in the water. He was so focused on her determined face that he actually walked into a suit of armor.

“Sorry,” he said hastily, his concentration broken as he stooped to help a servant straighten it.

Merletta’s image receded, not disappearing altogether, but no longer occupying central place in his mind. Shaking his head to clear it, Heath looked around and realized he was only a corridor away from his destination.

He covered the short distance to Lachlan’s study quickly, hoping to get the meeting over with so he could go back to watching whatever trouble Merletta was getting herself into.

The guards outside the door gestured for him to enter the study—clearly Lachlan had told them of his summons.

“Heath!” The prince stood quickly, actually coming around the desk. “I hope it wasn’t too soon after your ordeal for me to call you to the castle.”

“Of course not,” Heath protested. “I’m fine. I was barely injured.” He raised his bandaged arm in illustration.

Lachlan considered him for a moment. “From what I hear, you were extremely lucky to be barely injured.”

Heath nodded, waiting for his cousin to lower himself back into his chair before taking a seat himself.

“I can’t deny it,” he said. “I came very close to being killed.”

“I’m extremely grateful you weren’t,” said Lachlan mildly. He leaned slightly forward. “I understand you don’t wish to take any action against the blacksmith?”

“What? No, of course I don’t,” said Heath. “I don’t think for a moment it was his fault.”