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His grandmother looked thoughtful. “And the rest of this mermaid kingdom is still out there, undetected.”

“Precisely,” said Heath. “And even if Merletta is gone, my promise to her still stands, not to reveal the existence of her kind. They think humans are a myth, but they consider dragons to be their natural enemies.”

His grandmother gave him a sharp look. “Merletta told you that?”

He nodded.

“Did she say why?”

Heath hesitated, taken aback by her tone. “Apparently they’re taught that dragons are aggressive, and will kill mermaids on sight. The first time Merletta saw Reka, she almost dried herself out in her panic. She assumed he was about to eat her or something.”

The elderly princess drew an audible breath. “And you say Reka began acting strangely, but he never told you why?”

Heath nodded again, his eyes narrowing. “You know why, don’t you?”

“I have a pretty good guess,” she said dryly. She made a clucking noise in her throat. “Poor Rekavidur. What a dilemma he must have found himself in.”

“Poor Rekavidur?” Heath echoed, outraged. “He’s not the one who deserves your sympathy!”

There was sadness in the older woman’s eyes as she turned to him. “Don’t be quick to judge others’ troubles, Heath. You don’t know what it is to have to hide things from those you care about.”

“So what’s he hiding?” Heath demanded.

She shook her head slowly. “I can’t answer that question,” she said. “I’m only guessing. You need to speak to him.”

“I don’t think so,” said Heath flatly.

His grandmother didn’t answer, just fixed him with a calm but penetrating look that made him squirm on the inside. He turned away from her, looking out over the city again.

“I wonder if he regrets it,” he said softly. “Leaving her to die. I wonder if he ever dreams about it like I do.”

“You dream about it?” pressed his companion.

Heath gave a curt nod, still not looking at her. “Almost every night. Sometimes even during the day…it’s as if I lose focus on what’s happening, and I can see her, as clearly as if I was back on Vazula.”

“Describe these visions to me,” said his grandmother.

Heath glanced over at her, surprised by her intent expression. “I don’t know if I’d call them visions. It’s just my imagination, I suppose. Just flashes, but vivid in detail.” He described the dream he’d had the night before, comparing it to the clearer images he’d often seen in his mind before that.

“And you’re sure they’re not memories?” clarified his grandmother. “Not things you actually witnessed during your time with her?”

“I’m sure,” said Heath. There was no need to say it aloud, but he remembered every moment he’d spent with Merletta. He knew his dreams weren’t memories.

“Hm.” Princess Jocelyn was thoughtful. “And you didn’t actually see her die. For all you know, she may have made it back to the water.”

Heath’s eyes widened. “I don’t think so, Grandmother. You didn’t see her. She wasn’t going anywhere.”

His grandmother met his eye, looking almost amused. “What do you think your visions are, then? They don’t sound like normal dreams to me.”

“You mean…” Heath’s mind spun as he grasped her meaning. “You mean you think it’s part of my power somehow?”

“You said it yourself,” his grandmother pointed out. “You often see things other people don’t.”

“You think she’s alive?” Heath’s voice came out as a whisper. “And I’m somehow seeing her, as she actually is, right now?”

His grandmother shrugged. “I think it’s possible. I don’t want to give you false hope, but I don’t think you should rule it out. And I think the question will haunt you for the rest of your life unless you go and find out one way or another.”

Heath didn’t know what to say. That explanation for his recurring dreams had honestly never occurred to him. He didn’t know if he dared to really consider it.


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy