“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” said Percival dismissively.
“Nothing?” Heath protested. “You think it’s nothing when a crowd starts saying it wouldn’t take much for you to find yourself on the throne?”
“It was one person,” said Percival impatiently.
“One person in front of an eager crowd,” corrected Heath, his voice sharp.
“I mean, he wasn’t exactly wrong,” Percival muttered.
“Percival!” Heath gasped. “It would take the deaths of Prince Lachlan and Prince Knox to put you in the succession. You think that’s nothing? That’s treason.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” said Percival placatingly. “No one’s talking about killing anyone, not even the hecklers in the crowd. You were saying that Prince Steffan is vastly different from me, so he can afford to do what he likes. My point is just that he has one brother before him in the succession, and I have two cousins. It’s really not so different.”
Heath stared at his brother. The ominous feeling from Prince Lachlan’s study was back, and it was more powerful than ever. Percival’s words alarmed him, but it was the dismissiveness with which he spoke that was really frightening. It seemed to Heath that Percival was on a knife’s edge, and far from walking with care, he wasn’t even taking his situation seriously.
“Oh relax, Heath,” said Percival impatiently, taking in his expression. “I’m not after the throne. I just want to be able to celebrate my magic, instead of being made to feel ashamed of it. You’d understand if you had any. It’s easy for you to think nothing of the crown’s restrictions on the rest of us.”
Heath clamped his lips shut over the retort he was longing to utter. Without a word, he turned and began to stride toward the house. The last thing he wanted to do right now was tell Percival of his burgeoning power. His brother didn’t deserve that kind of trust.
Not to mention, Heath felt no desire to align himself with the power-wielders if this was their attitude.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The first thing Merletta was aware of was the pained groan that reached her ears. The second was the realization that it had come from her own mouth.
She blinked groggily, but made no effort to push herself upright. Everything was too sore.
“Merletta? Can you hear me?”
The sound of Sage’s familiar voice sent a current of calm over Merletta. If Sage was with her, she was probably safe. She hadn’t even realized until that moment that her body had been tensed with fear, but once she identified it, her mind raced back, trying to find the source of her alarm.
With a gasp, her eyes flew properly open, her gaze latching wildly on to her friend’s face as recollection returned. The memorial! Her hallucinations! She thought she’d been dying of land sickness, so how was she not only alive, but fully lucid again?
She frowned to herself, remembering her panicked thoughts. But of course she didn’t have land sickness. The illness was a lie, formed to cover up even deeper deceptions. She’d lived on land for a month without anything addling her mind. How had she allowed herself to be fooled into believing it?
Unpleasant details began to emerge from her confusion, and she groaned again, covering her face with her hand and blotting out Sage’s image.
“Merletta?” Her friend sounded anxious.
“I heaved up my guts in front of the entire triple kingdoms, didn’t I?”
There was a moment of silence, and when Sage spoke again, she sounded like she was trying not to laugh. “Well, sort of, yes.”
Merletta lowered her hand, grimacing. “What in the ocean happened?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that,” said Sage frankly. “You went all rigid, and it seemed like you couldn’t hear us talking to you. Then you sort of flopped out of your seat and…well, you remember that bit.”
Merletta shuddered. She was remembering not only her humiliating moment of illness, but what had come before.
“I was delirious,” she said. “I was hallucinating all kinds of strange things. I thought I had land sickness.”
“What?” Sage’s voice sounded panicked, and she glanced around.
Following her gaze, Merletta realized that she was in a hammock in an unfamiliar room, and she and Sage were mercifully alone. She really should have checked that before half-confessing that she’d spent time near land.
“Do you really think you might have it?” Sage pressed anxiously. “Does that mean it’s not a lie after all?”
“Of course I don’t have it,” said Merletta, running a hand down her face and trying to banish the memories still dancing through her mind. “If it was real, I would have died from it a long time ago.” She frowned thoughtfully. “But something affected my mind. No question about it. I saw…the strangest things.”