“You don’t,” Heath agreed dryly.
“Are the dragons coming this year?” Lachlan asked. “Will they renew the peace?”
Heath looked at him in surprise. “As far as I’m aware. I haven’t heard anything to the contrary.”
Lachlan nodded slowly, passing a feather quill methodically through one hand.
“Heath.”
Heath could tell immediately from the change in Lachlan’s tone that whatever the prince was about to say had been on his mind for some time.
“I haven’t asked you before because…well, I wasn’t sure how to bring it up, or what I hoped to hear.” The prince met his eyes calmly. “But you said we were being direct with each other. The truth is my father told me nothing about his accusation against you the day Percival was attacked. Nothing beyond what he subsequently told you—that he’d been informed you were concealing a threat against the crown. I don’t know who informed him, or what the threat is supposed to be, or anything.”
Heath remained silent, still waiting for a question.
“Did the accusation have anything to do with the dragons?”
Heath hesitated. “With the dragon colony? No, I don’t believe so.”
Lachlan considered him. “Do you know what the accusation relates to?”
There was a moment of silence as Heath debated how to respond. “I can’t say for certain,” he said quietly. “King Matlock didn’t confide the details of the accusation in me any more than he did in you.”
He paused, and Lachlan folded his hands on the desk in front of him.
“But you at least have a guess as to what he meant.”
Lachlan’s words weren’t a question, and Heath didn’t confirm or contradict them.
“What I can tell you for certain,” he said instead, “is that I told the truth when I said he was misinformed. I haven’t concealed any threat to Valoria. I would never do that.”
Lachlan frowned at him, the expression more thoughtful than disapproving. “Does it perhaps relate to wherever you and Rekavidur go together?” he tried again.
Heath felt a familiar tension rising within him. Betraying Merletta’s confidence was unthinkable. But he and Lachlan had started to develop genuine trust. Betraying that wasn’t very palatable either.
Before he could decide what, if anything, to tell his cousin, a sudden shout outside the door made both of them turn.
“Is he in there? He is, isn’t he?”
The familiar voice filled Heath with alarm.
“Oh no,” he muttered.
“Let me in!” Percival’s volume was enough to communicate his fury, even if his tone hadn’t made it perfectly clear. “Let me in immediately!”
“We don’t answer to—”
A dull thud cut off the guard’s words, and Heath and Lachlan both shot to their feet. In two quick strides, Heath was across the room, his hand reaching for the door. It flew open so quickly he had to jump backward to avoid being hit.
“Percival, what in the kingdom are you—” He broke off abruptly, his eyes widening as he took in the two guards, both of whom were on the ground. “Perce, what have you done?” he asked, his voice hollow.
“Heath, are you all right?”
Percival’s alarm was palpable, as was his continued anger. He seized his brother’s shoulders, looking Heath over. Apparently satisfied that Heath was unharmed, he let his concern drop away, and anger immediately rose in its place.
“What were you thinking? You’ve barely set foot out of the manor since you were attacked, except to go off on the worst-timed jaunt with Rekavidur yet.”
Heath heard shocked exclamations in the corridor outside—clearly someone had discovered the plight of the guards, who were already starting to come around. Percival, however, ignored everything but his own tirade.