Heath forgot his rising anger for a moment in the absurdity of it all. His lips twitched, a hint of humor creeping into his voice. “You’d better not let Rekavidur hear you calling him my pet, My Lord.”
“Is that a threat?” Lord Niel pounced on the comment, turning swiftly to face Heath with a martial light in his eye.
“Of course not,” said Heath quickly, all desire to laugh gone.
The poorly disguised satisfaction in the nobleman’s eyes alarmed him more than all of Lord Niel’s grumbling. The older man was looking for an excuse to make trouble. Heath was smart enough to realize that he needed to be careful not to give him any reason to complain to the king that Heath’s friendship with Reka was a threat to Valoria’s non-magical citizens.
Lord Niel drew a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he looked Heath up and down. “I have been discussing with your father the importance of demonstrating to all of King Matlock’s subjects that there is unity within our royal family, among those who wield power as well as those who do not.”
“And I have already reminded you, My Lord, that my family and I are well aware of that fact.” The duke stood to his feet, looking down at Lord Niel from his superior height. His tone was uncompromising, and the lift of his eyebrow, although subtle, somehow pointed out more clearly than words that in spite of Lord Niel’s role as Chief Counselor, as a duke, and a cousin to the king, the Duke of Bexley held considerably higher rank.
“I understand your concerns,” Heath’s father went on, “but I will not tolerate any insinuations against either of my sons. My family remains—as we have always been—unswervingly loyal to the crown, as we have demonstrated in every way. Have you forgotten that through my long service as His Majesty’s chief advisor on both foreign relations and matters of justice, the gift with which I was born has benefited Valoria more times than can be counted?”
“Of course not, My Lord Duke,” blundered Lord Niel, but Heath’s father wasn’t finished.
“Or that only recently, Lord Percival was able to save the life of one of His Majesty’s subjects by intervening in a near-fatal accident?”
For a long moment, Lord Niel was silent, his eyes narrowing as they rested on Percival. Heath’s stomach dropped as he realized with an inexplicable flash that the Chief Counselor had somehow heard of Percival’s careless comment the day before the tournament began. Was he about to accuse Percival of treasonous talk? Not that Percival would have to worry about any consequences from the crown. Their father would murder him first if he found out about it.
But it seemed that Lord Niel had no intention of airing that information in front of the duke, at least not at the moment.
“You misunderstand me, Your Grace,” he said, his words polite but his expression still hard. “I was not speaking of your actions, or those of Lord Percival. I was speaking of Lord Heath’s display at the tournament.” He turned to Heath. “I have been told that although you appeared to hit the target while blindfolded, you were not in fact wearing a proper blindfold, and could see the target when you took aim. Is that true?”
Heath met the nobleman’s gaze for a measuring moment. “It is,” he said at last. His conscience only pricked him slightly. Considered in a certain light, everything Lord Niel had just said was true.
Lord Niel relaxed slightly, his gaze assessing Heath. “I see. So I was correct in my understanding that you have not been gifted with…” He trailed off, then cleared his throat. “It is unfortunate, then, that a different impression was received by a number of those who observed you.”
“Indeed,” said Heath, his voice cold and his face expressionless.
Lord Niel just watched him for a moment, his fingers drumming absently against the hilt of the dress sword he wore. “You should know,” he said abruptly, “that there are those who are not comfortable with your close association with the dragons. Some consider it unwise—even irresponsible—for humans to make themselves vulnerable to such unpredictable creatures.”
“Indeed?” Heath said again, tilting his head in a polite gesture, even while his gaze remained unyielding.
Lord Niel hesitated. “And I suppose you don’t intend to tell me where you were all day, either?”
Heath raised his eyebrows, doing his best to copy the haughty manner his father adopted when someone overstepped their boundaries. It was the kind of skill a duke needed, but Heath rarely had to use.
“You suppose correctly, My Lord.”
Lord Niel waited, looking to the duke and duchess in apparent expectation that they would chastise their son. But no one said anything more, and eventually he took his leave in a less than gracious manner.
That whole encounter had been bad enough, but the conversation with his parents that followed it was even worse. As much as Heath felt a little guilty for the tension his little exhibition at the tournament had created, he still couldn’t believe that his parents were clipping his wings.
How was he to blame for Lord Niel’s paranoia, or the fear some Valorians still felt toward dragons? Three days it had been, and they still weren’t allowing him to leave the manor. What did they think he was going to do if not directly supervised? It wasn’t like he was inciting Reka to set fire to anything. The two of them just wanted to explore together, and not even within the boundaries of the kingdom.
Not that his parents were aware of that detail. He was glad they hadn’t asked him to tell Lord Niel where he’d been—he would have been astonished if they had given way to the pompous nobleman’s presumption. But when they were alone, such restraint disappeared immediately. Heath had told them he and Reka had been exploring together, and had declined to give details even when pressed.
His refusal to elaborate was at first mainly a mulish response to the accusations made against him. But even on sober reflection, he thought it best not to reveal the full extent of his explorations to his parents. It was partly because he was fairly certain they would tell him not to undertake such a long—and potentially hazardous—journey again. But it was also partly because he first wanted to somehow prove that Reka was wrong in his guess that the coexistence of magical and non-magical people on Vazula had led to everyone wiping each other out.
He didn’t think that information would encourage anyone in their current situation.
“A bit more annoying when the prejudice is directed against you, isn’t it?”
Heath turned, lowering his hand from the quiver as he watched his brother approach across the training yard, sword in hand.
“It is,” he acknowledged. He gave his brother a dry look. “No need to look so happy about it.”
“Sorry,” said Percival, his grin contradicting his words. He clapped his brother on the back. “Just glad to have company in my disgrace, that’s all.” His expression turned serious as he studied Heath’s mutinous face. “Don’t let anyone wear you down, all right? You’ve done nothing wrong.”