“And then I arrive home today to discover that you’ve not only trotted off to the castle, but you went willingly, and alone, and actually in response to a summons from the royal family! Do you want to be murdered?”
Muttering filled the silence that followed this ringing question, and glancing behind Percival, Heath saw that a number of servants had gathered to discover the source of the commotion.
“You forget yourself, Lord Percival.”
Prince Lachlan’s voice was ice, and Heath felt a thrill of fear. Had Percival finally done the inevitable, and crossed a line he couldn’t go back from?
Clearly Percival didn’t feel the same alarm. “No, I don’t,” he said, turning on the prince. “I know my place, and it’s protecting my family. I wasn’t given strength so I could hide it in shame. I was given strength to fight for those I care about. You may not be willing to admit that your father tried to have me killed, but if you think I’m going to stand by while you lure Heath into another trap, then—”
“You go too far,” snapped Lachlan. “Guards, detain him.”
Heath saw Percival’s defiance in his eyes, and he stepped forward pleadingly. “Percival, don’t lose your head.”
One of the guards seized Percival’s arm, but he threw off the older man’s grip easily.
“Percival!” Heath’s sharp tone seemed to catch his brother’s attention at last, and Percival turned to glare at him, barely seeming to notice as both guards grabbed his arms.
“I appreciate the concern,” Heath told him desperately. “I know you’re just worried for me. But I already told you, Lachlan would never try to harm me. He’s family, isn’t he?”
“Family?” Percival repeated bitingly. “You’ve forgotten what that means. Family is supposed to have each other’s backs, no matter what the cost.”
Heath felt the words twist in his heart, but he stood his ground.
“Perce, you’ve lost sight of the real dangers. Please, don’t make this worse. We can still sort this out if you just go quietly now. But if you make things worse—”
“I guess you’ve chosen your side,” Percival said bitterly.
And with as little fuss as if they’d been children, he threw off the guards with enough force to send them slamming into the wall, and loped off down the corridor.
The gawking onlookers—who had grown by now to a sizable crowd—parted to let him through, eyes wide as they watched the spectacle.
“Well.” Lachlan’s voice was surprisingly calm given what had just happened.
Heath turned pleadingly to him. “He truly believed my life was in danger,” he said. “I know he’s unreasonable about it, but he genuinely thinks the crown was behind what happened to him. Pigheaded as he can be, he honestly thought he was protecting his family.”
Lachlan made no response to the appeal, his eyes somber as they met Heath’s. “You do understand that he’ll have to be arrested, don’t you?”
Heath’s heart was heavier than it had been in months. “I understand,” he said hollowly. “But I dread the outcome.”
There was still anger in Lachlan’s eyes, but Heath saw sympathy as well. And the same weariness that was creeping over him.
“As do I,” the prince admitted quietly.
Chapter Twenty-One
Merletta stared at the wall behind Wivell’s head, her unseeing eyes fixed on a sea snail making its slow progress across the stone. She wasn’t even attempting to listen to Wivell’s lecture on etymology. She knew that focusing on the topic was beyond the current capacity of her overwrought mind.
She’d thought she was ready to speak out against the Center, and take whatever consequences came. But there was one outcome she hadn’t expected, and wasn’t prepared for.
Nothing.
The outcome was nothing. Beyond an increase in Ibsen’s hatred—if such a thing were even possible—and Agner’s uncharacteristically somber demeanor when he spoke with her in training, there had so far been absolutely no consequences for her actions in Tilssted. She couldn’t tell from Wivell’s usual impassive manner whether he even knew about what had happened. But surely he must.
It had been a week, and Merletta had to admit to herself that the strain was starting to tell. She knew Emil had warned her that the Center’s response would surprise her, but she hadn’t expected to be this surprised. If someone was trying to unsettle her by delaying whatever punishment was coming, it was working.
Sage shifted beside her. Merletta’s friends were almost as nervous as she was. Opportunities for private discussion were rare in their shared living arrangements, but they’d managed enough whispered moments for Merletta to know that Sage shared Emil’s assessment. If there was to be no official sanction within the program for Merletta stepping out of line, it probably meant a less official—and more drastic—response was being planned.
Between them, Sage and Andre didn’t let Merletta go anywhere alone. When Sage was Merletta’s escort, Emil often joined them, usually appearing from nowhere. Merletta wondered how she could ever have missed the way Emil quietly but unfailingly arrived anytime Sage was exposed to so much as a trickle of danger. Now she was looking for it, the habit was unmistakable.