Page 87 of A Kingdom Threatened (The Vazula Chronicles 3)

When they arrived at the manor, Heath lost no time in escaping to the cliffs. He wasn’t under house arrest, after all. He could come and go as he pleased. He’d only joined the family out of solidarity.

For his parents, not Percival.

He was just about ready to wash his hands of his impossible brother. Happily for her, Laura and her family had finally been cleared to return to their home in a different part of the kingdom.

Sitting on his favorite spot on the cliffs, Heath closed his eyes and tried to call to mind every lesson Reka had taught him about using his magic. He focused on Merletta, and her image saturated his mind, crystal clear. She was still swimming, speaking quietly with someone alongside her. With a great effort, Heath coaxed his vision outward, expecting to see the pale-haired mermaid again.

But it was a merman swimming alongside Merletta, a spear clutched in his hand. It was Griffin—the guard who’d taken such offense at Heath’s presence on the island, or more accurately, in Merletta’s life.

Well, that was unsettling.

Where were they going? The question remained unanswerable, and Heath let the vision fall with a sigh. Whatever her troubles, Merletta had no need of him at that moment. She was far away, and he couldn’t reach her. His family, on the other hand, were getting deeper into trouble with every passing day.

Pushing himself to his feet with a groan, he trudged back toward the manor.

The week after their arrival at Bexley Manor passed interminably. Percival was avoiding Heath, which suited him just fine. Heath spent much of his time practicing his farsight or poring over the family tree his grandmother had given him. Neither pastime provided him with any new information.

“What’s that?”

His father’s voice startled Heath from a reverie one afternoon. He was sitting in a window seat, trying to soak up as much of the weak winter sunshine as possible. He’d planned to practice his archery in the manor’s small training yard, but the cold had sent him back inside immediately. Since becoming so used to Vazula’s humid warmth, he found the snowy mid-winter of Valoria harder to endure.

Heath handed over the parchment, saying nothing.

The duke studied it with furrowed brow, his gaze passing slowly up to Heath’s. “This is a list of all the power-wielders in Kyona and Valoria.”

Heath nodded.

“And it’s in my mother’s handwriting.”

Again, Heath just gave a silent nod.

“Are the two of you planning some kind of coup I should know about?” the duke asked mildly.

Heath laughed, the sound seeming to warm the corridor slightly. “That’s right. We’re going to overthrow the crowns of both kingdoms, with Grandmother claiming her place as Empress.”

The duke chuckled as well, joining Heath on the wide window seat and leaning with his back against the far side of the sill.

“Have I ever told you how unpleasant it feels for me to be lied to?” he said conversationally. “I’ll forgive that one, though, since I started it.”

Heath inclined his head curiously. “What does it feel like for you?”

The duke looked out the window, considering. “It’s difficult to describe,” he said. “But I’d put the sensation somewhere between taste and smell. Deception is…bitter. Almost acrid.”

“Huh,” Heath mused. “That’s different from…from what I was expecting,” he finished lamely, only just catching himself.

The duke just looked at him with the direct gaze that had always made all three of his children squirm.

“What?” Heath said defensively. “I was telling the truth.”

“I know,” the duke informed him unnecessarily. “But I don’t need magic to tell when you’re hiding something, Heath. You’re my son.” The hint of a rueful smile flickered across his face. “Plus, you’re not very good at it.”

“It’s difficult to cultivate the skill when you grow up with a father who can sense the least hint of deception,” Heath reminded him.

He made no comment about his omission, and after a moment, his father released him from that piercing look, directing his eyes out the window with a sigh.

“Loyalty is a complicated thing,” the duke said, so quietly Heath got the sense he was talking to himself as much as to his son.

“Do you really think we should go to the Winter Solstice Festival?” Heath asked, changing topic with no attempt at tact. “Given everything that’s happening?”