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“He’s not welcome to it,” the duke corrected mildly. “It’s been offered to you, not to him. And you’re missing my point. Just because Percival wants it, doesn’t mean he’s a good choice for the role. And just because you don’t want it, doesn’t mean you’re not a good choice.” His eyes scanned Heath’s face. “Do you understand what I mean?”
“I think so,” said Heath reluctantly.
He looked back at the closed door, Merletta’s words about family suddenly jumping to his mind. He had been ashamed of his cowardice in dodging the conflict, and had told himself he would get involved where he could. He would certainly never get a better opportunity than this. But still, as he walked slowly back into the room, he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for the idea.
“What is your answer, Lord Heath?” Prince Lachlan asked without preamble.
Heath locked eyes with the young prince for a moment, surprised by what he saw there. For once, Prince Lachlan’s expression wasn’t entirely impenetrable. The look lurking in his eyes would, on any lesser person, be called a hint of pleading. The realization that the crown prince actually wanted to find a peaceful resolution to the rising tension, and that he was seeking Heath’s help to do it, was what decided him. How could he say no to that, and still live with himself?
“It will be my honor to serve my king.”
* * *
The walls of Bryford rose up before the carriage, their pennants bright in the noon sun, and Heath held back the sigh wanting to escape. He was here by choice this time, and it would serve no purpose to complain. But there was no denying that an afternoon spent in a carriage with Lord Niel had definitely tested his resolve. He had only vaguely listened to the nobleman explaining importantly that the announcement of Heath’s appointment would be made at the Summer Solstice Festival. Heath cared nothing about such details.
But it wasn’t like he had anything else of interest to pursue with his time, he thought dully. With Vazula out of his reach, he could do with something to focus on. He had been more or less content with his life in Valoria before he found the island and met Merletta. But somehow since being prohibited from returning there, everything else had seemed pointless.
The carriage rattled over the cobblestones, pulling up before long in the courtyard in front of the castle. Lord Niel climbed out, bustling importantly to the castle entrance to give instructions to the king’s steward, who was awaiting them.
Heath hung back respectfully, expecting Prince Lachlan to alight next. But the other young man turned to him instead. The prince had been mostly silent during the hours of their journey, leaving the floor open to Lord Niel, who had been only too happy to drone pompously on about the privilege bestowed upon Heath.
“Thank you,” Prince Lachlan said now, surprising Heath with the almost-warmth in his tone. “I’m glad you accepted the role.”
Before Heath could reply, a shout sounded from outside the carriage, causing both of them to turn. The prince leaped nimbly from the vehicle. He was immediately surrounded by the contingent of guards who had accompanied him to Bexley Manor, and whose horses had flanked the carriage on the drive back to Bryford.
Heath followed close behind, his alarm growing at the increasing shouts, and even screams, sounding across the courtyard. But the concern turned to surprise as he caught sight of the enormous form descending from the sky immediately above them.
“Reka?” he exclaimed, half to himself. The appearance of a dragon in the city at any time other than the Winter Solstice Festival was extremely rare. It had never happened in Heath’s lifetime.
But Reka was undeniably there. The dragon landed in front of him, his talons clicking on the cobblestones a mere few inches from Heath’s boots.
“I’ve come to collect you,” the dragon said imperiously.
For a moment, Heath just blinked, the flame Reka himself had lit only months before—on the last occasion he’d seen the dragon—tugging at his vision. Before he could say a word, Lord Niel’s outraged voice cut across his bewilderment.
“I should have known the power-wielders wouldn’t let you out of their grasp so easily,” he hissed. “They clearly won’t risk losing your absolute loyalty.” He gestured to the prince who, with his guards, was the only one within hearing distance. Everyone else in the courtyard was hanging back nervously. “You see how right I was to warn of the danger, Your Highness. They’ve sent a dragon to retrieve him rather than let him take a role in your father’s court.”
Heath turned to the nobleman, his brow darkening. “That’s nonsense, My Lord,” he snapped. “First of all, I’m not in anyone’s grasp. And second, you’re beyond foolish if you think the dragons answer to any humans, power-wielding or otherwise.”
Lord Niel’s eyes narrowed in anger. “You should watch how you speak to me, boy. And you expect me to believe that this beast,” he waved a hand at Reka, “has followed you to Bryford by coincidence? I know for a fact he no longer comes at your call.”
Those words were a mistake. Rekavidur had so far maintained a disdainful silence, but Heath could sense his anger at the nobleman’s characterization of their friendship. He turned his vast head in Lord Niel’s direction, a rumble building within his chest. He opened his mouth, and with startling abruptness, the rumble turned into a roar. Lord Niel cowered under the force of the sound, darting back to the edge of the courtyard to join the rest of the onlookers. Prince Lachlan flinched, but would clearly have stood his ground if his guards hadn’t physically hustled him away.
“Reka, stop!” Heath called, when a wisp of smoke began to curl from the dragon’s mouth.
Rekavidur turned to Heath, the heat of his fire seeming to glow in his eyes even as it died down from his jaws.
“Do you think I am tame?” he demanded dangerously. “Do you think you can train me to respond to you, like you would a dog?”
“What?” Heath demanded, dumbstruck. “Of course not!”
Reka still looked so terrifying that even Heath had to fight the instinct to back away. He stared at Reka, and although nothing he could see with his eyes suggested it, he became suddenly aware of some kind of conflict raging within the dragon. Reka was in distress, although he wasn’t showing it, and Heath’s heart suddenly went out to his friend.
“Reka, what’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed.
For a moment the sternness on the dragon’s brow seemed to falter, but it returned almost immediately.
“Nothing,” he said curtly. “I’ve come in response to your call.”
