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“Did you find something out?” Heath asked eagerly.
“Nothing very useful,” Lachlan sighed. “Just a description that caught my attention, because I heard it more than once. I arranged for questioning of various acquaintances of the men who died suspiciously. A few of them claimed that the dead men had met with a stranger some time before their death. A thickset man with striking blue eyes.”
“That’s it?” Heath asked, disappointed.
Lachlan frowned. “They also said he had a slight accent, but he didn’t look like he was from the South Lands.”
Heath’s heart lurched uncomfortably. Did this support the Kyona theory? Some of Kyona’s mountain dwellers spoke with a bit of an accent. He frowned. But only the royal family would have power, and they surely wouldn’t have an accent.
“It’s a start,” he said abruptly. “We can speak more later. I need to be with my family right now.”
The prince nodded, releasing him. Heath rejoined the rest of his family, but there was nothing much to be done or said. Everyone was relieved by Percival’s reprieve, of course, but they all knew it was temporary, unless someone could prove to the king’s satisfaction that the most obvious answer for the attack wasn’t the true one. The knowledge hung over all of them.
It wasn’t until hours later, back at the city manor, that Heath thought to ask his grandmother about Rekavidur.
“He returned to Wyvern Islands after passing on your message,” she told him. “Although he seemed saddened by your distress, I didn’t get the sense that he was overly invested in Percival’s fate.”
Heath nodded, unsurprised. “Dragons,” he sighed.
She gave him the flicker of a smile. “Yes. Quite.”
As she moved off to speak with her husband, Heath let his mind turn to Reka. His magic followed his thoughts, his farsight flickering to life. He could see his dragon friend. Perhaps it was the presence of his father and grandmother, and therefore the extra magic in the room, but he could even see Reka’s surroundings with relative clarity. The dragon was on Wyvern Islands, deep in conversation with others of his kind.
Heath frowned, leaning forward into his seat as he pressed into the vision. Conversation? Or argument? Not only Reka’s form, but that of his father Elddreki, and his mother Raqisa, came into focus. The three of them seemed to be ranged against at least half a dozen others, literal sparks flying between them as they spoke rapidly.
It would be a slaughter! The words burst from Reka, his tail flicking angrily. Would you truly wipe out an entire civilization over a story from century upon century ago?
Spoken like the youngling you are, another dragon responded coldly. None of us take pleasure from killing, Rekavidur. But sometimes it is the appropriate response.
Not this time, Reka said in a hard voice. I don’t accept that.
We do not need your acceptance. The words came from a third dragon, and even across the connection, Heath could read the determination on the creature’s face.
He pulled out of the vision with a gasp, a fresh wave of fear washing over him. Would the onslaught of disaster never slow? He grasped the back of the chair next to him, drawing shaky breaths as he tried to clear his mind enough to think.
In his folly and his selfishness, he’d dragged Merletta into his world. He hadn’t even had the sense to show restraint—instead he’d paraded her before everyone, dragons included, just as if she was nothing more than an ordinary, uninteresting human, instead of the incredible, wondrous being she was. And in doing so, he’d brought death to her doorstep.
What was he going to do? How was he going to warn Merletta? Because warn her he must. There could be no doubt as to the meaning of what he’d just witnessed.
The dragons were coming for the triple kingdoms.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Merletta angled up toward the surface as the water became shallower. She was almost at the island.
She glanced behind her compulsively, although the triple kingdoms were now far back. Careful as she’d been, it was hard to shake the fear of being followed. But if someone had seen her leave the barrier, they hadn’t followed her out, of that she was certain.
Her fear wasn’t unfounded. It had been a week since she’d taken her unconventional test, and she’d been aware of being watched almost every time she left Sage’s room, where she was still sleeping at night.
Things had calmed down considerably once the crowds had dispersed from the drop off—everyone apparently satisfied that Merletta was neither dead nor thrown from the program. But it had still been a week before Merletta managed to slip away from the Center inconspicuously. And she’d only made it through the barrier because she’d picked a time when Felix was on patrol at the boundary, and willing to let her through. She pushed down the twinge of guilt over involving him in illicit activities. She was past that point now. It was no longer about her desire to explore the open ocean—it was about all of them. If she, and everyone else who believed her, didn’t stand up to the Center, nothing would ever change.
When she flipped her tail up onto the sand, Paul immediately appeared by her side, hand outstretched. She took it gladly, letting him pull her to her feet.
“Merletta!” he said, relief clear in his voice. “You’re alive! A few more days and we were going to come after you all. Not knowing what happened is worse than the risk. It’s been all I could do to keep Griffin from racing off for this long.”
“Where is he?” Merletta asked, looking around. “He hasn’t done anything rash, has he?”
Paul shook his head. “No, he’s fine. He’s hunting, that’s all.”
