A smile broke through Heath’s moodiness in spite of himself. It was certainly not an image he would normally associate with the great Lord Percival, heir of the influential Duke of Bexley, skilled fighter, gifted with power in the form of the strength of five men.
But the flash of mirth was immediately drowned by guilt. What right did he have to be laughing with Percival, when Merletta was lying dead on Vazula, killed because of him?
The two brothers rode in silence, and within minutes, the walls of Bryford rose up before them. Heath was in considerable pain now, the time in the saddle doing nothing to help his re-agitated wounds. And he was weary, with a weariness that went beyond the physical, an exhaustion of the mind that no amount of sleep seemed to lessen. The half-buried, more sensible part of him regretted his idiotic prank. But at the same time, he knew that the next time he found his own thoughts unbearable, he would be tempted to do something just as stupid in an attempt to drive them away.
They rode through the gates, Percival nodding to the guards on duty. Heath shot them a dark look, sure that they had been the ones to tell his brother where to find him. Although he supposed he should be grateful to them, given Percival’s timely intervention.
The horses’ hooves clattered over the cobblestones, and the hot afternoon sun beat down on Heath’s back. The mood of the city was increasingly festive as they moved toward the castle, and the wealthy district surrounding it. The Summer Solstice Festival had happened a couple of weeks before—Heath had been bedridden with his injuries, and not at all sorry to miss it. But there were always lots of noble families in the capital over summer, and there were plenty of galas and parties still happening.
One of the worst parts of his new position was that he seemed to be expected to attend every social event put on by any member of King Matlock’s court. Being forced to take part in endless celebrations while struggling inwardly with guilt and despair was a kind of torture Heath had never endured before.
He glanced up out of habit as the castle loomed into view, his eyes drawn to the stone basin jutting out above the main entrance. The Flame of Friendship was a symbol of the peace between the human kingdom of Valoria, and the dragon colony located on Wyvern Islands, off the eastern coast. As always, flickering orange flame was visible inside the basin. But the tinge of purple to the fire made him narrow his eyes. Those were Reka’s flames.
He sighed, lowering his eyes to the castle itself. When he was recovered enough to remember the position he had accepted right before Reka whisked him away to Vazula on that terrible day, he had been surprised—and not altogether pleased—to discover that the king’s offer was still open. He’d thought that his hasty disappearance with the dragon would probably disqualify him from holding any official position. He had almost hoped the king would adopt Heath’s own view, that at nineteen he was too young for a formal court role.
But whether because the magical beasts were so revered, or because his friendship with Rekavidur was so well known, he had not even been chastised for leaving with the young dragon. And it seemed that King Matlock fully expected him to assume the position he had accepted, as soon as he was completely recovered.
“Lord Heath! There you are.”
Heath had just dismounted in the castle’s courtyard when the greeting drew his attention.
“Your Highness,” he said quickly, when he saw the crown prince descending the castle’s steps. “Am I needed? My apologies.”
“Oh, sure, you apologize to him for almost killing yourself, but not to your own brother,” muttered Percival.
Heath elbowed him in the side as surreptitiously as possible. He recognized the humor in his brother’s voice, but someone else might not. And it wasn’t a good time for anyone to think Percival was complaining about deference being shown to the royal family. Heath might be feeling reckless lately, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see his brother get himself into trouble.
“No need to apologize,” said Prince Lachlan lightly. “You couldn’t have known you’d be missed. But as it happens, we’ve just received a messenger from Kyona.”
“Oh?” Heath asked vaguely, surprised by the mention of the neighboring kingdom. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want his opinion on such a matter.
“The messenger came with an invitation from King Eamon.”
“An invitation for King Matlock?” Heath asked, still confused as to why he would be needed to help prepare a royal delegation for a visit to Kyona.
“No,” said Prince Lachlan, watching him closely. “For you.”
CHAPTER TWO
Merletta balled her fists in determination, her eyes on her target. She took a step toward the crumbling structure, pleased that her legs weren’t shaking nearly as strongly this time.
Her legs!
She still couldn’t get used to the idea of it, let alone the reality. It had been weeks, and she was still expecting to wake at any moment from this bizarre and exhilarating dream.
She took another step and another, a smile growing as she didn’t even wobble. She passed the structure, wincing slightly as she stepped from the soft sand to the sharp rocks. Heath’s boots dangled over one arm, ready in case her feet became too sore. She was determined to make it all the way to the lagoon this time. But she would prefer not to use the boots if she could help it. They didn’t fit right, and as long as her feet could handle the surface, she walked more steadily without the coverings.
At first she had been concerned, after finding the boots on the beach, that they didn’t sit well on her new feet. She was worried that her feet were stunted, too small for the legs which now sprouted impossibly from her body. But on reflection, she figured it was probably like how fins varied in size from mermaid to mermaid. She would just have to trust that her feet were proportionate to the rest of her.
She had feet!
She kept being pulled up by the thought, hardly able to process it even after all this time. She made it over the rocks, letting out a breath of relief as her feet found the relatively soft surface that marked the start of the jungle. She glanced down at her legs, admiring the smooth brown of her skin for the hundredth time. She wobbled slightly as a result of her loss of focus, and as always, had to fight the urge to use her fins to restore her balance. It was the strangest feeling, and she couldn’t decide what was more unnerving…the fact that half of her body was missing, or the fact that she had an entire new portion of body to use.
Or the fact that on one level, it all felt impossibly natural. Like she was supposed to be this way.
She shook off the thought. Wrestling with the implications of her new legs was too overwhelming. She wanted to master the mechanics of it first.
And there was no doubt she was making progress. She moved much more slowly than she’d seen Heath walk, but she made it to the lagoon without falling once. She smiled as she dipped one foot into the water, almost overbalancing as she tried to stay upright on the other. She was hot now, and tired, and she had achieved her goal. Allowing herself to relax, she pushed off the rocks with shaky feet, landing in the water of the lagoon with a not-very-graceful splash.