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“You are absolutely giant,” Percival said bluntly. Apparently a trace of his ill humor remained.

“Too true, I’m afraid,” Laura sighed, letting her head drop back against the high back of her chair, as her husband brought her a glass of water. “It has the physician mystified.”

“It must be twins,” the duchess said. “There’s such a strong history of it in your father’s family.”

Laura shook her head. “They assure me there’s only one in there.”

“Hm.” The duke frowned thoughtfully at Laura’s bulging stomach. “I suppose we’ll know for certain soon enough.”

The conversation moved on, but Heath continued to watch his father’s face, fascinated. He could feel the duke’s power swirling subtly out from him as it probed Laura’s stomach. Heath felt a flicker of his own magic, and tried to look at his father with the sight that came from his power, not his eyes. The duke was seeing something the rest of them weren’t.

His interest piqued, Heath moved his attention to Laura as well, trying to see what was really happening. He leaned into his farsight, but all he could see was Laura, sitting in front of him, as his normal eyes showed. Perhaps it was the baby he needed to focus on.

Blocking out everything around him, he thought about the child—who he or she was, the family into which this baby would be born, the identity the child would have as a power-wielder, and as Laura’s son or daughter. He saw nothing but darkness, but something danced across his awareness—some sense of life and wholeness and…rescue? The sensation was akin to how he’d felt when he’d learned Merletta was alive after all, or when he’d reconciled with Reka. Which made no sense. What did either of those things have to do with Laura’s child?

He tried to dig deeper, but just as he thought he was getting a sense of something further, his extra sight suddenly gave out. It didn’t flicker into nothing like usual, either. It felt more like it had slammed into a solid wall.

Heath blinked, sound rushing around him as he returned to his surroundings. He looked up to see his father watching him with a shrewd expression. Heath swallowed. What had the duke seen with those perceptive eyes?

As the duchess helped Laura and her husband into a guest suite, the Duke of Bexley pulled his younger son aside.

“Is all well with you, Heath?” he asked in his calm way.

“Yes, Father,” Heath said a little too quickly.

The duke searched his eyes. “There’s no sense beating around the bush, Heath. I felt power come out from you just now. I’ve sensed it growing in you for some time.”

“You have?” Heath was astonished. “You never said anything. And neither has anyone else.”

“If you’re speaking of your brother and your cousins, then I doubt they will have noticed,” the duke told him. “It takes training and finesse to recognize the subtlety of power in others. I’ve been living with magic for much longer than anyone in your generation.”

Heath was silent, unsure how to respond.

“You needn’t confide in me if you don’t choose to,” the duke said, no rancor in his tone. “But I just wanted you to know I’ve sensed it. And…” He hesitated. “It hasn’t escaped my notice that you’ve been working more amicably with Prince Lachlan recently. And I’m glad for it. I also haven’t made any secret of my disapproval of your brother’s behavior, and the way it has increased friction between our family and the crown. But I hope you aren’t at risk of forming the false impression that magic is harmful in itself, or in any way to be avoided.”

“Of course I’m not,” Heath said, suddenly understanding what his father was getting at. The duke was afraid he was hiding—or perhaps even trying to suppress—his growing magic either out of loyalty to the crown or fear of the power itself. “Our kingdom and our family will be best served by magic being used, and used well.”

The duke searched his eyes for another long second before he nodded, apparently satisfied with what he saw.

The conversation played in Heath’s mind over the following weeks, as he wondered whether he should tell his father the full extent of his growing magic. It would be useful to ask more about how the older man exercised his own gift, given the ways in which Heath’s magic bore similarities.

But he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Recent tensions notwithstanding, the duke was deeply loyal to the king, whom he served in a senior advisory position. He may well feel compelled to share the information with the crown, which Heath wasn’t ready to do.

For the moment his training would have to remain between him and Reka. If he could ever get away to meet the dragon, that was.

His opportunity arose a few weeks after Laura and Edmund joined them in Bryford. They were just beginning to speak about returning to their home for the birth of the baby, and the topic dominated the conversation at breakfast.

“I think maybe you’d better stay put now,” said the duchess, concerned. “What if the baby started to come while you were on the road?”

“I doubt that will happen,” said Laura, as cheerful as ever. “I know I’m massive, and I won’t deny I’m exhausted. But I actually feel great.”

“Well, that’s a mercy,” said the duchess skeptically. She appealed to her son-in-law. “What do you think, Edmund?”

He looked torn. “I’d like to be home,” he acknowledged. “But I’m reluctant to travel if you think there’s any risk.”

“Nonsense,” said Laura dismissively. “There’s no—ooh.” Her voice changed abruptly, and Heath looked up from his porridge.

“Are you all right?” he asked.


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy