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Bianca paled slightly, and even Brody’s expression was suddenly unusually serious.
“He said that? Did he…elaborate?”
Heath shook his head.
“Hang on.” Percival was leaning forward now, his elbows resting on his knees as his eyes flicked between the three of them. “You two know what that was about?”
Heath ignored his brother. “I’d like to think I know the answer,” he told his cousins, “but I still need to ask the question. Did either of you tell the king about our, uh, activities when you visited me at Bexley Manor?”
Brody’s eyes traveled slowly to Percival and back. He said nothing, but Heath could see him processing the implication of Heath’s coded words—that Percival remained unaware of Heath’s secrets. Even Brody and Bianca didn’t know the extent of it, of course. Only that Heath had sailed to an island where he’d met with a friend from an unspecified kingdom, one which wished to remain hidden from Valoria.
“I haven’t told a soul,” Brody said at last. “Honestly, I’m a little offended that you’d ask.”
“I certainly didn’t tell the king,” Bianca said, her voice small. “But…I did tell Grandmother.”
Heath nodded slowly. “Yes, she told me as much. But I just didn’t want to believe she would carry tales to the crown like that. Not when I explained to her how important it was to keep it all quiet.”
“So you’d rather believe we were the tattletales,” Brody said dryly.
“Is it possible the king was referring to something else?” Bianca suggested.
Heath sighed. “If so, I don’t know what.”
“Is anyone going to explain to me what in the kingdom is going on?” Percival interjected, irate.
“No,” said Heath absently. “Not today, at least.”
Percival gave an outraged splutter, and Heath’s eyes passed to him. His brother’s angry face suddenly sparked another thought, and he abandoned the topic of the king’s uncanny knowledge for the moment.
“Percival, have you had any success in trying to spot the guards who attacked you? You were going to surreptitiously check out the royal guards in the training yard, weren’t you?”
“I have done,” Percival said, disgruntled. “But I haven’t seen anything useful. Which isn’t surprising,” he added quickly, his voice a touch defensive. “They were all masked when they attacked me, after all.”
“Hm.” Heath’s mind returned yet again to Prince Lachlan’s question.
“Don’t tell me you’re still going on your ridiculous theory that someone else dressed up as royal guards dressed up as bandits,” said Percival angrily. “Isn’t the fact that the crown once again called us all back to the capital proof that they’re determined to keep us under their thumb? What more evidence do you need?”
“It’s proof that they want to keep a close eye on us, maybe curtail our activities,” Heath said unemotionally. “It’s hardly proof that they want to murder us, however.”
“Not all of us,” grumbled Percival. “Just me.”
“You’d be the worst person to murder,” Heath said vaguely. “You’re the most visible.”
“I can see you’ve put a lot of thought into this,” said Bianca, sounding amused.
Heath didn’t answer. The truth was, the only reason he’d thought about it at all was because he’d compared the situation to Merletta’s, when advising her to become more visible so that it would be harder for those in power to kill her off without facing repercussions from the populace at large. King Matlock was surely smart enough to know that as the best known and most popular power-wielder, Percival would be the most dangerous to dispose of by brute force. That, if nothing else, made it seem unlikely that the king really had been behind the attack on Heath’s brother.
“Did you really sense power on the attackers?” Bianca asked doubtfully.
Heath nodded, his thoughts still elsewhere.
“Heath, for the last time, they weren’t Kyonan power-wielders,” Percival said impatiently. “I didn’t feel any power.”
“You were a little distracted fighting for your life,” Heath pointed out. “But let’s not get into that again.” He turned to Bianca, directing his next question at her. “About what the king said—do you think I should ask Grandmother if she knows where he got his information?”
She shrugged. “No harm in asking.”
“Well, except that she might not appreciate an implication that she ratted you out,” Brody interjected.
