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“Did you say humans?” she said hollowly.
Instructor Wivell’s eyebrow was once again raised. “I realize that you have been on your break, Merletta,” he said, with a touch of impatience. “But you can hardly have remained ignorant of the dramatic discovery that has so altered our society in recent weeks. Not even the most backward corner of Tilssted could have failed to hear of it.”
Merletta went still, aware that she was in dangerous waters. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t reveal that she hadn’t been in the triple kingdoms at all during her break?
“I just…” she swallowed, “I just didn’t realize that discussion of humans would be included in our curriculum now.”
“Naturally such a momentous event in our history could hardly fail to be discussed as part of the program,” said Instructor Wivell reprovingly. “Our third years,” his eyes lingered on Sage and Oliver, “would have been covering the matter regardless. But given recent events, all trainees will be part of those classes.” His gaze traveled across the whole group. “The interaction of our own kind with humans—who, you must remember, most merpeople have until recently believed to be a myth—is history happening before our eyes. You should expect the matter to be a substantial feature of your history classes for some time to come.”
Merletta looked at Sage, stunned. Her friend was watching her with the same concern she’d shown at lunch. Sage would have the answers. Merletta would avoid drawing any more attention to herself in front of the rest of the group and wait until she and Sage could be alone.
Instructor Wivell was still talking, but Merletta was too distracted now to take in a word. What was it he’d said? Something about the aggression of humans? A memory flashed before Merletta’s eyes—Heath, floating just off Vazula, arms raised in a gesture of clear surrender, moments before the guards had thrown their spears and spilled his blood into the water. A stab of mingled pain and anger passed over her.
Aggression of humans?
Merletta’s thoughts were grim as she pushed the image away with an effort and returned to the present. It was history in the making, all right. But it wasn’t happening before their eyes. It was being written, and far away from the public eye. Written—or rather re-written—by the Center itself.
CHAPTER FIVE
Heath was pleased to find, after an hour of rest, that he was no longer limping as he made his way back into the corridor. Percival was already waiting for him, fidgeting impatiently. But after a glance at his brother’s face, he didn’t comment on Heath’s slowness. They made their way together back to the landing at the top of the entranceway’s broad staircase, as they’d been instructed. Heath looked around him with a flicker of interest.
The castle at Kynton was pleasant. His suite had been tastefully furnished and decorated, with windows looking out on an appealing garden. Windows also appeared quite frequently in the corridor, making the space lighter than the castle at Bryford, and a long rug softened the stones under their feet.
“I wonder what King Eamon is like,” Percival mused, as they walked. “Do you think we’ll be able to sense his power?”
“Yes,” said Heath simply. “We can sense everyone else’s magic, can’t we?”
“I suppose it will feel like Grandmother’s, since he’s her twin,” said Percival, a slight bounce in his step. “Sort of overwhelming and all-encompassing.”
Heath chuckled. “Hers does feel that way, doesn’t it? It’s interesting how their power is less specific than ours. I suppose since they were the first two to have magic, it’s not surprising that it’s sort of been refined by the third generation.”
“And King Eamon’s magic is a general power of stability,” said Percival thoughtfully. “They say that when he speaks, everyone is instilled with confidence.” He threw a glance at Heath. “Even you have to agree that’s an eminently desirable power for a monarch to have.”
“I never said it would be bad for a monarch to have power,” Heath pointed out. “Just that it’s dangerous to talk about it as desirable when we’re in Valoria, where the ruling branch of the royal family doesn’t have magic.” He gave Percival a meaningful look. “And where the ones with power happen to be our branch of the family.”
Percival rolled his eyes. “Stop looking at me like I’m trying to overthrow the monarchy, Heath. All I said was that King Eamon’s power must be handy.”
Heath didn’t answer. They had turned a corner as Percival spoke, and a young man of about Percival’s age came into sight. He was dressed in the rich garments of a courtier, and he smiled warmly at the sight of them.
“Lord Percival, Lord Heath?” he asked, and they nodded. “Welcome to Kynton. Great Aunt Jocelyn sent me to fetch you. I’m Theodore, and I’m delighted you’ve come.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Heath said, trying to hide his surprise. He had a basic understanding of the family tree of the Kyonan royals, and he recognized Theodore’s name—he was the eldest son of Crown Prince Rory. It was strange to hear this young man, whom he’d never met, calling Heath’s grandmother “Great Aunt Jocelyn”. And even stranger to think of her sending Kyona’s future king on an errand.
“None of that,” Prince Theodore said, waving a hand as he led them toward the banquet hall. “No need for titles between cousins. We’re all so pleased you’ve come.” He threw a measuring glance at Percival. “Try not to annihilate my little brother, though.”
There was a gleam of humor in his eyes as he spoke, but Percival still looked as taken aback by the request as Heath felt.
“What do you mean? Of course I won’t—”
“I should have explained,” laughed Theodore. “Steffan’s gift is similar to yours. When he heard that the superhumanly strong, Valorian power-wielder had come as well, he became instantly determined to beat you in a fight.” He shook his head indulgently. “He’s only fifteen, you see. He hasn’t yet grown out of his intoxication at being the strongest boy in the room, as you no doubt did years ago.”
“Yes,” Heath said with a straight face. “Years ago.”
Percival managed to elbow him in the ribs without attracting Theodore’s attention, and Heath felt his first flicker of real amusement in a long time. They had reached a carved wooden doorway, and the guards on either side bowed as Prince Theodore passed through it.
“Just a small group tonight,” he said cheerfully. “Grandmother and Grandfather wanted to welcome you appropriately, but didn’t want to overwhelm you with a state dinner the moment you’d arrived.”
“We appreciate it,” said Heath sincerely. But when he cast his eyes around the room, he saw that Prince Theodore shared the misconception of most royalty about what could be considered a “small group” of people. It probably came from never being able to go anywhere alone, and it was one of the many things Heath didn’t envy his royal cousins.
