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“Was there anyone else in there, Your Majesty?” he demanded, his voice coming out raspy from all the smoke.
The king’s eyes focused on him, suspicion in their depths. “Just my guide,” he said. “A beam fell on him.”
Heath looked behind him, to see three more guards emerge, two of them carrying an unconscious figure. Even as he watched, the man began to stir. Heath caught his breath at the sight of the man’s mangled leg, and looked away quickly.
The two unburdened guards escorted the king further from the blazing building, while the ones carrying the guide deposited him on the grass some distance away before returning for their unconscious fellows. The guards on the grass were beginning to wake, moaning and clutching their heads.
“What happened?” Heath demanded. “How were you trapped in there?” He gestured at the abandoned bar of iron. “That was no accident.”
“That much is clear,” the king agreed grimly. “Is that what was over the door?”
Heath nodded, and one of the guards went to investigate it. After a brief attempt to lift it, he gave up, retreating back to safety.
“Much too heavy for a normal man to lift, Your Majesty,” he said, his face hard.
His words sent unease curling through Heath’s stomach. A normal man?
“Go to the nearest village,” King Matlock commanded the guard curtly. “Sound the alert. We cannot allow this fire to spread.”
The guard jogged off toward where a group of horses was tethered—mercifully well clear of the smoke—and the king turned to Heath.
“What’s the meaning of this, Lord Heath?” King Matlock’s voice was also hoarser than usual. “What are you doing here? How did you lift that beam off the door?”
“Reka and I saw the smoke from the air,” Heath said, gesturing to the dragon, who was sniffing at a spot further along the burning building, utterly unconcerned either by the smoke billowing around him or the flames licking at his scales. “He lifted the beam off. I couldn’t budge it.”
The king started visibly at the sight of the dragon, whom he clearly hadn’t noticed. With resolution, he marched up to Reka, bowing slightly as soon as he caught Reka’s attention.
“I thank you for your intervention,” he said, his eyes watering from the increased proximity to the flames.
Reka sat back on his haunches, considering the king. “You have no call to thank me, as I did not act on your behalf, King of Men,” he said coolly. “I merely did as Heath asked me to, for the sake of our friendship.”
King Matlock took this rebuff in surprisingly good part, turning a thoughtful countenance on Heath. One of the guards approached him and murmured something quickly into his ear. The king nodded slowly, his expression growing graver. When he strode back toward Heath, however, his face showed no anger.
“Evidently it is you whom I must thank, Lord Heath,” he said solemnly. His eyes flew to the bandages showing below Heath’s tunic. “Particularly in light of recent events.”
“If you mean the flogging,” Heath said flatly, “that’s hardly enough to prompt me to regicide. And as far as I’m concerned, Your Majesty, finding you in a burning building and failing to assist you out of it would have been no better than assassinating you myself. Which I have never had the smallest desire to do.”
“I do not doubt it,” the king said quietly. “It is clear I misjudged you. You were undoubtedly hasty and disrespectful regarding the matter of your loyalty ceremony. But perhaps I was also hasty in my response. You have demonstrated your loyalty in a more substantial manner.”
Heath bowed stiffly, not quite as ready to forgive and forget as the king seemed to be. The exertion with the iron bar had caused his back to throb more viciously, and although the wounds would heal, the humiliation of his public flogging would be harder to erase. But King Matlock’s next words softened him further.
“And if your objections do not arise from lack of loyalty, as I at first assumed, perhaps I should more fully consider your concerns about the proposal affecting Lady Laura’s children.”
Heath unbent slightly, but before he could speak, one of the remaining guards gave a cry.
“Your Majesty!”
Both Heath and the king turned quickly, and Heath gasped at the sight of Percival stumbling out from behind an enormous boulder nearby.
“Percival!” Heath cried, berating himself as he hurried toward his brother. If he was more adept with his farsight, he would have realized Percival was so close by when he checked on him. “Are you all right?”
“Heath?” Percival blinked groggily. “What’s going on? What’s that smell?” He cleared the boulder, and his eyes widened as they settled on the grain house. “What happened?”
“That is a question for you, I take it, Lord Percival.” King Matlock appeared at Heath’s shoulder, rage simmering in his eyes.
Percival’s face showed anger as well, and he drew himself up. “I don’t know what’s going on, Your Majesty, but it will take more than a fire to stop me from giving you a piece of my mind. You’ll answer for what you did to my brother.”
“Percival, stop talking.” Heath said sharply, a sudden fear lancing through him. “You don’t understand the situation.”
