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Percival looked sulky, but Heath knew in his bones that his grandmother was right.
“Is it really so bad, Grandmother?” he said. “I don’t mean the ceremony, I mean the registration idea. I feel foolish to ask, but is there any great harm in keeping a record of who is and isn’t born with power?”
“Heath!” protested Percival. “I know you’re obsessed with knowledge and records, but come on! Whose side are you on? You want us to be restricted, so we can only use our powers if specifically requested to by the king?” He raised his muscled arms helplessly, and his voice turned sarcastic. “How would that even work? Would I be prevented from lifting things anytime I’m not in His Royal Majesty’s presence?”
“That talk of restrictions was just a rumor,” Heath said quickly.
“Actually,” cut in their grandmother, “it was exactly what was intended.”
Heath stilled, aware that Percival was looking at him smugly, although his eyes remained locked on the princess.
“It wouldn’t be workable at all,” she said, glancing at Percival. “I tried to explain how impossible it would be to simply not use some types of power. But it’s hard for those outside of the situation to understand that.” A frown creased her forehead. “But it’s not about taking sides, and Heath’s question isn’t foolish.” She met Heath’s eye seriously. “I believe that the king meant well with the idea of registration, but I won’t deny that it made me very uneasy. Have you ever heard of humans being registered and cataloged like that?”
Heath shook his head slowly. “Percival did say it made us like cattle,” he acknowledged. “It is a little unusual to force people to be registered in such a way.”
She nodded. “It is unusual, but not unheard of. I have seen it, or something not unlike it. When I was young, there was talk in Kyona of registering those whose parents and grandparents had once been slaves in Balenol, classifying them differently from the rest of the population.” She shook her head. “It was a very dangerous suggestion, planted by an enemy of Kyona whose intention was to see the kingdom rip itself apart. And it would certainly have worked if the plan had gone ahead.” Her expression was more serious than Heath had ever seen it. “They were even talking of branding the freedmen, as they were called.” She nodded to Percival. “Like cattle.”
“But that’s surely a different matter,” Heath protested. “No one’s talking about branding the power-wielders!”
“Not yet,” said the princess gravely. “But these things are delicate, and taking one step in a bad direction can be more dangerous than you might think.”
“You see?” Percival said, gesturing to their grandmother. “Like I said.”
Heath didn’t respond, mulling over his grandmother’s words. “So you think whoever came up with this idea is an enemy of Valoria?” he asked. “That the intention is to make us all turn on each other?”
“What?” His grandmother looked startled. “No, I didn’t mean that. I was just reflecting on what happened in Kyona.”
Heath nodded absently. She seemed genuinely surprised by his question, but he wasn’t entirely satisfied. He’d certainly been given a lot to think about.
Another week crawled by, and the formal events Heath was required to attend all seemed pointless, like their sole purpose was to justify the continued presence of the power-wielders. Heath was convinced now that Percival had been right, and that they were being kept close so they could all be monitored for any sign of defiance.
From the way some of the nobles watched Percival in particular, Heath had come to two conclusions. The first was that a great many people were aware not only of Percival’s careless words about the throne, but of the sympathetic reaction of some of the population. The second was that in keeping them all in Bryford, the king was trying to prove to his court that the situation could be managed without registering or restricting anyone. And certain members of the court—Lord Niel included—were almost certainly hoping to see behavior that would convince the king of the opposite. Lord Niel even watched Heath with an eagle eye whenever they were in his vicinity. Perhaps he was still simmering over the incident with the archery competition, or perhaps it was just the inevitable result of the unexpected visibility Heath had achieved when Reka had greeted him at the Solstice.
Heath therefore tried to behave with circumspection, hiding his impatience as best he could. He also stuck close to Percival wherever possible, hoping his presence would help his brother to keep his own frustration under the surface.
Whether it worked, and the court’s fears were allayed for now, or whether King Matlock just realized he couldn’t keep them in Bryford forever, at long last they were released.
Heath couldn’t help but feel a bit disgruntled at the timing. If only the king had given them leave to return home one day earlier. The day they spent riding home was Merletta’s rest day, so he would have to wait a whole extra week to go to the island. Somehow it didn’t even cross his mind to visit Vazula in her absence, as he had once done.
The next six days felt even longer than the six weeks that had come before, but he tried not to show his irritation. He could tell that Percival was growing increasingly suspicious about the nature of his outings with Reka, and watching Heath prowl the manor like a caged bear couldn’t be doing much to reduce his curiosity. Heath couldn’t think of any convincing reason for why the dragon would be the one who cared what day of the week they went on their expeditions. Days of the week were completely immaterial to an immortal creature.
When the relevant day finally arrived, Heath was on the cliffs outside the manor, with his rucksack packed, by the time the sun rose.
“Reka!” he called. “I’m ready anytime you are.” He settled in to wait, watching the sky turn slowly from pink-streaked yellow to the soft blue of a cool spring morning.
“Reka?” he tried again, after an hour. “I’m finally free from Bryford.”
He felt foolish. He’d never had to try twice. Reka had always heard him on the first call. And he’d never failed to respond. However superior the dragon might act, Heath knew that as such a young member of the colony, he had no responsibilities to prevent him from leaving Wyvern Islands. And he’d been as eager for their trips to Vazula as Heath had. He was still trying to figure out the story behind the former presence and current absence of Vazula’s dragon colony.
Was it possible he’d been going to Vazula without Heath, while Heath was stuck in Bryford, and had solved the mystery? The thought irritated Heath for no sensible reason.
After another half an hour, he was cold, and stiff from sitting so long. He meandered along the cliff face, climbing down once the rocks began to thin into sandy beach. He knew Reka would have no trouble finding him, wherever he ended up. It was too cold to want to dip his feet in the water, but he skimmed rocks across the surface, wondering if Merletta had ever tried that particular skill. It would be hard from halfway in the water, he supposed.
He waited another two hours, his frustration growing until it was even stronger than it had been in Bryford. He was finally home, and yet he was as trapped and powerless as ever.
Eventually, he was forced to admit to himself that there was no point in waiting any longer. The reason, he was unable to guess, but the reality was undeniable.
The dragon wasn’t coming.
