A particularly muscular guard stepped out from the crowd, but Heath had seen enough.
“Percival,” he said grimly, emerging into the open space.
A whisper of amusement went through the crowd, a couple of voices audible above the rest.
“Uh oh, now you’re in trouble, My Lord.”
“His Majesty’s messenger is here.”
Heath ignored the jabs, his focus on his brother. Percival looked over at him, eyebrows raised in exaggerated surprise.
“Heath! You’re back early.” He shook his head, a grin on his face. “You know I hate to be a spoilsport, but I’m afraid the answer’s no. It just wouldn’t feel right to fight my little brother.”
Heath wasn’t impressed. He knew he shouldn’t rise to the bait, but frustration welled up within him. He wished his father was right, that he wasn’t responsible for Percival’s conduct. But he left his brother alone for less than a fortnight, and he returned to this?
Heath clenched his teeth. It was beyond infuriating that he couldn’t even afford the time it took to reassure himself that Merletta was alive without Percival threatening to uproot everything he’d been working toward.
“This isn’t a joke, Percival,” he said, his voice low and tense. “Do you realize how foolish this is?”
Percival shrugged an impatient shoulder, turning away and making a show of wiping his sweaty brow with a towel.
“Don’t start lecturing. You’re as bad as Father. If you want to talk about foolish, let’s discuss a certain idiotic challenge on the bridge above the falls.”
“I don’t deny that was foolish,” said Heath curtly. “But at least I was only endangering myself. This is bigger than you, Percival, you surely must realize that.”
“You’re making a fuss over nothing,” Percival said, his voice not nearly as quiet as Heath’s. “Steffan did this all the time in Kynton, you saw him yourself. I watched him fight six guards at once, and no one seemed bothered by that.”
“Prince Steffan is a prince,” said Heath, through his still-gritted teeth. “His father is the heir to the throne. And it’s different in Kyona, you know it is.”
“I know that, all right,” said Percival, a hint of bitterness in his tone. He turned back around, meeting Heath’s eyes boldly. “But I don’t see how Steffan’s position is so very different from mine. It’s not like he’s the future king—that’s his brother.”
“He’s royal,” said Heath. “He’s the grandson of the king, and it wouldn’t take much at all for him to find himself on the throne. He can afford to take licenses.” He stopped, exasperated with himself for letting Percival draw him into an argument about an unimportant detail.
“And I’m the great-grandson of a king,” said Percival, shrugging again. “We’re royal too, or on the cusp of it.”
“It wouldn’t take so much for you to find yourself on a throne either, My Lord,” called a clear voice.
Heath’s eyes grew wide, and even Percival stilled at the unexpected words. Heath whipped his head around, searching the crowd for the speaker. Everyone had gone quiet, and there was no way to tell who had called out.
“Who said that?” he demanded. “Who’s talking such nonsense?”
The onlookers were still hushed, many of them looking a little nervous. But some of them, Heath noticed, were looking at Percival appraisingly. A horrible crawling sensation rose up Heath’s body. He was sure the men were imagining what Percival would be like in the role of crown prince. Were they really so short-sighted as to be impressed by Percival’s physical strength? Prince Lachlan’s cool head and genuine dedication to his people was far more desirable in a ruler. Certainly, Percival was more charming, more personable than the reserved young prince. But surely these men must realize it was because he wasn’t the crown prince that Percival could be so free with his manners.
“We’re going home,” said Heath curtly, turning back to his brother.
Their eyes locked, and he could see Percival’s belligerence.
“I don’t answer to you, little brother,” said Percival, quite calmly.
Heath stood rooted to the spot, completely at a loss for how best to answer. He could see now how poorly he’d handled the situation. He should never have allowed things to come to a confrontation in front of all these witnesses. Could he really expect Percival to give in tamely when it would mean losing face with the whole royal guard?
Percival turned to his newest challenger, and Heath took a step back, finding that he was shaking slightly. How had things deteriorated so quickly? A few months ago, it had been Percival hovering protectively over Heath, and now this was where they found themselves? Clearly the effort of being responsible for his brother’s sake had been taking a greater toll on Percival than Heath had realized. Or maybe Kyona had just turned his head. Either way, Heath felt a surge of guilt for his role in Percival’s current state of mind. He should never have left the city to sail to Vazula.
But then, how could he regret doing it? Merletta’s image swam before his mind, and a surge of delighted amusement cut through the tension of the moment. She was so endearing, holding out her feet proudly, for Heath to admire. Utterly oblivious to the fact that in Heath’s world, no respectable girl would walk around with bare feet, let alone invite a young man to observe them. Let alone have legs bare from the knees down, not to mention her shoulders…
Heath shook his head slightly, horrified to realize he’d been distracted thinking about Merletta’s shoulders while Percival casually hacked away at the monarchy. This was why he couldn’t afford to disappear off to Vazula again.
And yet, he couldn’t bring himself even to pretend he wasn’t going to try to get back there the first chance he got.