“You are gracious, Your Highness,” said Heath blandly.
When he didn’t elaborate, Lord Niel jumped back in, continuing to expound on whatever he was talking about. Heath had no idea of the details. He hadn’t been listening since the insufferable nobleman began speaking. So, for the last half hour.
Heath tried again to view Reka with his farsight, but no image came into his mind. Lord Niel had broken the flow of his power, and he couldn’t recapture it. He would have to ask Reka next time if that was ever a problem for dragons.
Heath gave up his efforts in disgruntlement, but his interest in Lord Niel’s discussion of the practicalities of the current restrictions on power-wielders did not increase. If he was truly defiant by nature, like Percival, he would have taken a grim delight in the irony of him practicing his magic in the very room where Lord Niel was congratulating the group on the success of their regulation of power.
But all Heath felt was irritation that he was being forced to use his time so pointlessly.
When the meeting finally ended, and the small group dispersed, Heath was prevented from leaving in their wake by a quiet command from Prince Lachlan.
“A word, Lord Heath?”
Heath turned reluctantly. “Your Highness?”
Prince Lachlan waited, not speaking until the room was clear of everyone but them.
“I can’t help but suspect that we did not have your full attention today, Lord Heath. It’s hard to believe that you can truly have no opinion on Lord Niel’s suggestions.”
Heath met the prince’s eyes. “To tell the truth, Your Highness, I don’t see any purpose to be served by me expressing my opinions on these matters. It’s been made clear to me—on each of the several occasions I’ve done so—that my opinion is not going to be given any weight. In light of which, it seems unnecessary for me to continue attending these meetings.”
“You are the crown’s liaison to the power-wielders, My Lord,” said the prince curtly. “Your presence is naturally required at meetings pertaining to the regulation of power. Otherwise the power-wielders might feel they have no voice in the discussion.”
Heath gave him an incredulous look, and the prince had the decency to sigh, his stiffness softening slightly.
“I had hoped this would be more of a partnership, Lord Heath,” he said. “We’re family, aren’t we? I thought we could work together.”
“So did I,” Heath retorted. “But I stood in your study, Your Highness, and told you to your face that placing restrictions on power-wielders was a terrible solution to the rising tensions, and you told me that it was out of my hands, and proceeded to do it anyway.”
He half expected the prince to get angry, but instead Prince Lachlan sighed again, his gaze drifting to the window, through which the afternoon sun was filtering. “I remember what I said perfectly. Do you?”
Heath frowned, trying to recall the full conversation. “You said it was out of your hands as well,” he said slowly. “Are you saying you don’t agree with King Matlock’s policy regarding the power-wielders?”
“Of course I’m not,” Prince Lachlan said shortly.
Heath considered the prince thoughtfully. No, the unfailingly loyal crown prince would certainly never say anything to question his father. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking it.
“I take it the sentiment among the power-wielders remains negative toward these restrictions?” the prince said at last.
Heath’s voice was dry. “Without exception. Not only are the restrictions insulting, but they’re impractical. Power-wielders are the only ones who can even sense magic. How would the crown even know if someone was using their power in contravention of the rules?”
The prince gave him a look that was a little too shrewd, but thankfully he didn’t ask the obvious question.
“Our king has a reason for every decision he makes,” he said instead. “He wouldn’t have taken this action lightly.”
“Wouldn’t have?” Heath echoed.
He studied Prince Lachlan with more interest. He’d always had the impression that the king included his oldest son in his decision-making wherever possible, presumably to prepare him for the day when he would wear the crown. But Prince Lachlan had made it sound like he didn’t know his father’s reasoning for imposing the ill-advised restrictions. Heath had certainly been surprised at the time by the dramatic reaction from a king who usually projected calm moderation. Was it possible Prince Lachlan had been just as taken aback?
“If your father has a reason for every decision,” Heath said, when the silence stretched out uncomfortably, “I wish you would explain his reason for keeping me on in this role. The last time he spoke to me, he all but accused me of treason, if you recall. If that’s what he thinks of me, and if my input is not actually desired on the situation with the power-wielders, I can’t imagine why he would still wish me to act as liaison.”
“I thought you said my father had been misinformed regarding the accusations against you,” said Prince Lachlan, his eyes slightly narrowed as he watched Heath.
“That’s right,” said Heath, refusing to let himself feel any guilt for his omissions.
The king’s actual words were that Heath had been keeping a potential threat secret from his king. That statement wasn’t true. Merletta’s people were no threat to Valoria.
Besides, even if they had been, there was nothing King Matlock could do about it. All things considered, Heath felt under no obligation to break his promise to Merletta and share the existence of her people with his king.