Page 7 of A Kingdom Restored

“Lachlan’s not the one who locked Percival away,” Heath said, exasperated. “He believes Father that Percival’s telling the truth.”

“But what?” Brody challenged. “He’s just a bit too busy to tell the king that?”

Heath sighed. Glancing around, he said quietly, “He doesn’t have as much influence as you think. King Matlock makes his own decisions.”

“And he seems to have decided that he trusts you,” Brody said cuttingly. “It was quite a moving public announcement last week, about your service to the crown when you saved the king from your brother’s dastardly scheme. What was that order you were awarded again?”

“You know I didn’t ask for that,” Heath snapped. “And I didn’t want it. I think he only did it to try to make up for the flogging he ordered when I refused my loyalty ceremony.”

“And apparently it has made up for it,” Brody shot back. “Since you’re back working with the crown prince, and the king treats you like an actual human being now, instead of power-wielding scum.”

“What do you want from me, Brody?” Heath demanded. “It’s not like I’ve forgotten being publicly flogged. But what is there to gain from staying angry about it? Did you really expect me to hang on to my own wounds when my brother is on the brink of execution?”

“Of course not,” said Bianca softly. “We know you better than that. Don’t listen to Brody, he’s just upset. We all are.” She searched Heath’s face. “The king understands, doesn’t he? That we’re not going to just let this go? If he executes Percival, he’ll have a full uprising on his hands.”

“I don’t know what he understands,” Heath said wearily. “Whatever you seem to think about my loyalties, his decisions make no sense to me. If he doesn’t believe his own son’s view of it all, do you think he confides in me, or listens to my advice?”

“He should listen to his own cousin,” Brody growled, in reference to Heath’s father. “Especially when that cousin has the magic ability to detect deception, and can guarantee that Percival is telling the truth.”

Heath said nothing. He wished the king would believe his father as well, but he wasn’t really surprised King Matlock doubted the duke. Not with Percival’s life on the line. He started to step around his cousins, making for the stairwell again. Bianca’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Take care of yourself, Heath,” she said, her eyes searching his in concern.

“I don’t care what happens to me,” said Heath simply. “And I don’t especially care what you all think of my loyalties or motivation. What I care about is making sure Percival and Merletta aren’t killed. I’m not going to let it happen.”

“Merletta?” Bianca repeated, her grip tightening on his arm. “What does she have to do with it? I thought she went home.”

“Nothing,” Heath said quickly, shrugging off her hold. “She did go home, and her danger has nothing to do with Percival’s.” His thoughts flickered uneasily to his absurd suspicions about the nature of the power he’d sensed at more than one suspicious attack. “At least I hope not,” he muttered.

“What are you talking about?” Brody demanded.

“Never mind,” said Heath. “I’m going to see Percival.”

Without another word he plunged down the steps, not stopping until he’d descended three floors and crossed a corridor. His steps slowed as he approached the door where a guard stood sentinel, barring the entrance to the dungeons. The guard sighed at sight of Heath.

“It’s not a guest suite,” he muttered, “where he can receive visitors at will.”

“Really?” Heath challenged him dryly.

The guard was familiar to him. He wasn’t one of Percival’s close friends, but Heath knew they often sparred together. Or they had, before Percival was locked up in a filthy cell.

The guard just sighed again as he waved Heath through. Heath might have pretended to be irritated, but he was actually relieved that a sympathetic guard was on duty. King Matlock likely didn’t realize how popular Percival was with the city guards. Most of them were willing to turn a blind eye to visits that would boost Percival’s morale. And Heath wasn’t worried they’d report on such trivialities to the king. Just like the guards who’d stopped Leonora and Jasmine were unlikely to inform the king of the suspected use of magic. If they did, they’d have to admit to letting themselves be talked out of cracking down on it. Much safer and more comfortable for everyone to pretend it hadn’t happened.

And that, Heath reflected in irritation as he moved through the doorway into the dungeon, was the kind of disorder that arose in a kingdom when the king began making decisions that were unduly harsh and not based on any publicly recognized logic.

Percival was sitting just where Heath’s earlier vision had shown, in the corner of the cell. He rose to his feet when he saw his brother, an unconvincing smile on his face.

“Heath, you surely have better things to do than visit me in my lovely home so often,” he said.

Heath wrinkled his nose, fighting the nausea brought on by the smell of human waste and mold.

“Don’t put on a show for me, Percival, I don’t have the patience for it,” he said. “I’ve just had the pleasure of being lectured about family loyalty by Brody, not to mention talking Leonora out of getting herself thrown in the dungeon as some kind of misguided statement.”

“Leonora?” Percival repeated, startled. He looked around and gave a shudder. “Let’s not let that happen.” He frowned at Heath. “Why is Brody hassling you?”

“No real reason,” said Heath placatingly. “Everyone’s just a bit worked up, and fair enough.”

Percival’s frown grew. “But surely no one thinks this is your fault. I don’t like the idea of you bearing the brunt of any of this.”

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