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“To say I think that’s what happened would be jumping considerably too far ahead,” the prince corrected. “But it has occurred to me that it’s a possible explanation for these deaths.”

“But this is serious, Lachlan,” Heath said, alarmed.

The prince raised an eyebrow, and Heath smiled in spite of the topic of discussion. “Too familiar? The title gets tedious after a while, if I’m honest.”

The other man gave a sudden, unexpected laugh. “For me too. Am I to call you Heath, then?”

“If you like,” Heath said absently, his mind already back on the matter at hand. “It was worrying enough that someone was willing to target Percival to create a rift between the crown and the power-wielders.”

He grimaced. “Not to mention that they were savvy enough to know how to do it. If that was their intention, Percival reacted in the most perfect way possible. A way that was, I have to admit, painfully predictable for anyone who knows him.”

He drew a breath. “But if whoever is behind the attack is willing to kill off their hired hands so callously in order to cover their tracks…”

Lachlan nodded. “It suggests someone particularly unscrupulous,” he finished. “Exactly the type of person or group one does not want planning underhanded attacks against the crown.”

Heath opened his mouth, then closed it. The familiar feeling of being torn by divided loyalties squirmed inside him. He felt guilty for keeping his thoughts about the attack secret from his co-conspirator. But at the same time, the idea of sharing his suspicions with the crown prince made him feel sick to his stomach.

“What is it, Heath?” Lachlan asked, leaning forward. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Heath let out a breath. “Nothing concrete,” he said. “But there is one detail I didn’t mention before…about the attack.”

Lachlan waited silently, doing nothing to push Heath, which he appreciated.

“I hesitate to say it,” Heath continued. “For fear of it being misinterpreted.”

“I’m not prone to jumping to conclusions, I believe,” Lachlan said calmly.

Heath nodded in acknowledgment, then let his breath out in a long exhale. “I sensed something from the fleeing men. It felt like…magic.”

Lachlan leaned back, not quite able to keep his expression impassive. “Could it have been Lord Percival’s strength at work?”

Heath shook his head. “It wasn’t Percival’s magic. Or Reka’s. They’re both so familiar to me, I couldn’t possibly mistake them. Every power-wielder has a signature, and I would recognize any member of my family. It wasn’t any of them.”

“So it was entirely unfamiliar?” Lachlan pressed.

Heath shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. It was different from my family’s, but…” He let out a frustrated breath. “I wish I had the time back again! It was the most fleeting of glimpses, and I just can’t be sure what I sensed. It’s possible I imagined the whole thing.”

“If it wasn’t your family,” Lachlan said slowly, his sharp mind connecting the dots much too astutely, “does that mean you suspect it was a Kyonan power-wielder?”

Heath shook his head rapidly. “I don’t suspect anything. I would truly find it hard to believe of any of them. But if there’s even the slimmest chance, and I hid it from you…”

“I appreciate your openness,” Lachlan assured him. “And I understand why you were hesitant.” He drummed his fingers on the desktop, deep in thought. “I won’t mention the magic to my father,” he said at last.

Unbidden, Heath felt a flicker of his own magic inside him. Lachlan’s face was calm, but Heath could see the depth of his discomfort over keeping such a detail from his father. He appreciated it more than he could say, but he knew the prince well enough to recognize that it would benefit no one for him to articulate the cost aloud.

“If there was any concrete evidence, it would be a different matter,” Lachlan said, seeming to speak mainly to himself. “But as it stands…”

He let the words trail off, but Heath understood. In his current frame of mind, King Matlock would leap to the worst conclusions from the suggestion that magic was involved in the attack. It would make the already elusive goal of healing the rift virtually impossible.

“But I will subtly investigate whether he suspects any threat from Kyona,” Lachlan finished.

Heath winced. “If I was the cause of unfounded conflict between the two kingdoms, I’d never forgive myself,” he said frankly.

“I feel the same way,” Lachlan assured him. “And whatever either of us thinks of my father’s current policy regarding magic, I can promise you that conflict with Kyona is the last thing he wants.”

Heath nodded. He would have to be satisfied with that for the present, and hope that nothing disastrous came of his decision to trust Lachlan.

Chapter Fifteen


Tags: Deborah Grace White The Vazula Chronicles Fantasy