“Why not?” Heath demanded, distracted from his frustration in spite of himself.
“Didn’t you hear?” The other man was clearly pleased to be the bearer of gossip. “Two men from this market died recently, and the physicians think they ate something that poisoned their systems. They both worked in the market, but in different stalls.”
Heath stared at him. “They ate something poisoned? I’ve never heard of that happening before. Surely that’s being investigated.”
“Not with actual poison in it,” the man said dismissively. “Food that had gone bad, something like that.”
Heath frowned. “Strange coincidence for it to happen at the same time if they worked at different stalls, though.”
Percival rolled his eyes. “Of course Heath wouldn’t accept the obvious explanation. He’ll be searching for a complex conspiracy now.”
Heath sent him an impatient look. “If you never even question what you see, Percival, you’re just begging to be lied to.” If there was one lesson he’d learned vicariously through Merletta, it was that.
“You’re the one who isn’t willing to question what the authorities say,” snapped Percival. “You’re the one too blind to see what’s really happening.” He gestured to the market at large. “But maybe you’re right, maybe we’re not digging deep enough into these suspicious deaths. Were these men dissenters? Perhaps the crown picked them off, too.”
He spoke flippantly, but his voice carried as it always did, and Heath saw a number of passersby looking around, their expressions shocked.
Percival’s friend chuckled as if it was all a joke, but Heath felt nothing but disgust.
“You have no idea what’s at stake, do you?” he said coldly.
“Don’t scold, Heath,” Percival said, his voice impatient.
“No more scolding,” Heath said simply. “No more trying to fix every problem you cause. When your unguarded tongue lands you in real trouble, don’t expect me to come to your rescue.”
“Real trouble?” Percival raged. “In case you’ve forgotten, I was beaten half to death only weeks ago!”
Heath ignored him, turning on his heel and striding away. Percival was headed for danger, but it was clear that nothing Heath said or did would check him in that path.
But that didn’t mean that Heath would stop searching for answers about the attack. If someone was trying to embroil the crown and the power-wielders in a web of conflict and deception, much more than Percival’s safety was on the line.
Chapter Ten
Heath slept poorly that night, his dreams filled with visions of Merletta. Once he saw her fighting the maelstrom’s thrashing waters, and another time he watched her collapse in the center of a large crowd, her body convulsing unnaturally. Other visions were more pleasant, showing her laughing with a pink-tailed mermaid, and dancing through a pod of dolphins.
These images were reminiscent of the dreams he’d had during the months he thought Merletta was dead. He’d belatedly grasped that the random visions he had of Merletta in that time had been early instances of his farsight. But that couldn’t be the case for the dreams. Surely at night Merletta was sleeping, as he was, not engaging in any of the activities he’d witnessed in his dreams. And he recognized the more dramatic events from her descriptions. He could only conclude that his imagination was more vivid than he’d ever given it credit for.
Rising early, specifically to avoid running into Percival at breakfast, Heath made straight for the castle. He wanted to speak to Prince Lachlan, but it had occurred to him that there was really no need to hide in storage cupboards to do so. Little as he’d cared for it in recent weeks, he had an official role at the castle which fully legitimized private conversation between him and the prince. He knew there was a risk his cousins would think he was being disloyal if they saw him closeting himself away with the crown prince. But after the latest display of Percival’s pigheadedness, he found he didn’t much care what the others thought.
When he received permission to enter the prince’s study, he was pleased to find the young royal alone.
“Lord Heath.” Prince Lachlan considered him carefully, the consciousness of their last meeting unspoken but tangible. “Please sit.”
Heath did so, getting straight to the point.
“Did you tell your father about our discovery yesterday?”
The prince cleared his throat. “I did.”
Heath nodded. “I told Percival, as well,” he volunteered, “hoping to convince him that he wasn’t attacked on King Matlock’s order.”
“Is that so?” Prince Lachlan looked surprised at the unprompted disclosure. “And what did he say?”
“More or less what your father said, I’m guessing,” Heath answered. “That a few missing uniforms don’t prove anything, and that nothing has changed.” He met the prince’s heavy frown with an even expression. “Well? Am I wrong about the king’s reaction?”
Prince Lachlan’s jaw worked for a moment. Then he let out his breath in a long sigh. “No,” he admitted. “You’re not.”
“Well.” Heath leaned back in his chair. “It seems the only ones interested in finding out what really happened on the road that day are you and me. And I think we’ll get considerably further if we work together.”