“Ileana,” she acknowledged, her eyes narrowed venomously, but her tone cautious.
“I have something for you.”
The words made Merletta’s head snap up, her eyes fixing on the small kelp satchel dangling from Ileana’s hands.
“Where did you get that?” she snapped, reaching out to snatch it, then thinking better of it and dropping her hand.
“Jacobi found it,” said Ileana, an unnatural smile still on her face. “Apparently you left it behind in the records hall. He gave it to me to pass on, since he obviously can’t come into our part of the barracks.”
“Oh good,” said Sage cheerfully. “See, Merletta? I said it would turn up.”
Ileana’s smile turned into a smirk, and Merletta’s feeling of unease tripled.
“Aren’t you going to thank me for returning your belongings?” the older mermaid asked, her tone as smooth as a polished pearl. She raised a challenging eyebrow. “It is yours, isn’t it?”
Merletta hesitated, the desire to have it back warring with an instinct that told her Ileana was trying to trap her. But she could hardly deny ownership after Sage’s comment. She snatched it off Ileana, saying nothing either in thanks or acknowledgment. But Ileana’s look was even more smug than before as she relinquished the satchel, before drifting toward her hammock.
Sage chatted happily on, oblivious to Merletta’s tension. At the first opportunity, Merletta surreptitiously surveyed the contents of the satchel. She was both relieved and alarmed to see that everything was still there, not a piece missing.
She glanced at Ileana, who was swinging gently in her hammock, her eyes closed and an expression of satisfaction on her face. Merletta was genuinely surprised that the older girl hadn’t taken anything. But what did it mean?
She wasn’t sure what Ileana was up to this time, and possibly Jacobi with her. But one thing was for certain—it was nothing good.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Three weeks!”
Heath closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath as he attempted to calm his frustration. He released the breath and the arrow, but the thud of the arrowhead hitting the center of the target did nothing to improve his mood.
“Three weeks since the king made his decision, and they still haven’t finalized this ceremony business. Who cares about the stupid details?”
He turned to his brother, who was supposedly practicing archery as well, but in reality was moodily throwing arrows point down into the ground at his feet, picking them up, and repeating the process. Percival had never had the patience for archery. He preferred a fight where he could be up close and personal with his target.
“I don’t think anyone cares this much about the details,” he said darkly. “They just want to keep us all here to see how we’re taking it, so that we’re under the crown’s eye and unable to do anything drastic for long enough for our reactions to settle.”
Heath lowered his bow, surprised by the unusually insightful comment from his brother. “You’re probably right, actually.”
“No need to sound so astonished,” Percival muttered. He threw his bow down, abandoning all pretense at archery. “I don’t blame you for being annoyed. It’s a couple years before your ‘ceremony’”—he spoke the word with a sneer—“and no one’s worried about you, anyway. There’s no reason you should be forced to sit around in Bryford all these weeks.” He sighed. “I’ve never fancied being carried through the air, my legs dangling precariously, but it’s starting to sound appealing even to me. Maybe Reka can come rescue us both, and I’ll join you on your adventures instead of enduring this stuffy court.”
Heath snorted. “You’re not invited on our ‘adventures’ thank you. You’d be very much in the way.”
Percival just rolled his eyes. Heath tried to imagine his brother on the abandoned island, but it was hard to picture. He would get bored there very quickly.
It was obviously a moot point. He had told Merletta he wouldn’t expose her, and telling his brother would certainly be doing that. Not to mention Heath quite liked being the only human she knew. He’d been compared to his brother—and not favorably—all his life. It had never bothered him much, since he didn’t care about the achievements Percival most valued. But in this instance, he had a feeling it might.
“Come on,” he said, returning his bow to the stand. “We both need to get out of our own heads.”
“Yes,” Percival agreed, straightening. “I could do with a good gallop. A race to the falls, perhaps?”
Heath shook his head. “No, I was thinking I’d see if I could find Grandmother. Taking tea with her usually clears my head.”
“Tea with Grandmother?” Percival repeated incredulously. “That’s your idea of a good distraction?”
Heath just laughed. “It’ll help, trust me.”
Percival continued to grumble all the way through the castle, but Heath ignored him. The servant they approached was able to locate the elderly princess quickly, and to Heath’s relief, she was delighted to make time for them. The last thing he wanted was to get roped in to racing Percival. Once his brother’s competitive instincts were set off, the afternoon would descend into an endless series of challenges, from which Heath would find it difficult to extricate himself.
“It’s nice to see you here, Percival,” the former Kyonan said, once they were all settled in her private receiving room. There was a humorous sparkle in her eyes as they rested on her oldest grandson, who was turning the delicate teacup over in his hand with as much fascination as one might view a two-headed dog. “I don’t often get the pleasure of a visit from you.”