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“He’s in the training yard,” said the whittler. “I can go ask him. You should get back to your post.”
“Thanks.”
The two men departed in opposite directions, leaving Heath to consider the overheard information in his cramped quarters. Prince Lachlan was asking about the uniforms of the royal guards? What kind of questions was he asking? Did that mean he believed what Percival had seen, and shared Heath’s suspicions that it had been a set-up of some kind?
Hardly able to believe that he’d heard something of actual interest, Heath wanted nothing more than to go in search of his second cousin immediately. But he couldn’t leave his hiding spot without detection. He’d thought himself lucky to sneak in without being seen, but he’d started to wonder long before now whether it had actually been a stupid idea. How long would he be stuck there?
While he waited for an opening to make his escape, he wondered what Prince Lachlan was up to now, and whether he’d yet received the requested report. Heath closed his eyes, trying to draw on his magic as he focused his thoughts on the crown prince. As soon as he attempted to connect in to his farsight, Merletta’s image appeared, increasing from the corner of his mind as it had the day he trained with Reka. There was nothing remarkable to see. She was underwater, apparently in some kind of class. Not a very interesting one, by the expression on her face.
Heath smiled to himself, forcing his thoughts to return to Prince Lachlan. He found the full picture of the other young man a little hard to pinpoint—it always felt like the prince was holding so much inside. But they’d begun to form a friendship of sorts before things fell apart so drastically, and Heath had once felt like he knew the man behind the title, at least a little.
As he focused on who Prince Lachlan was, his sight flickered once again. This time it wasn’t Merletta he saw, although he was still aware of her, continuing to live and breathe and swim and just generally exist on the other end of an invisible cord stretched between them. All that was a constant background hum, but the image of Prince Lachlan was clear and central. He had indeed received the report, and he was reading it as he walked, a frown creasing his forehead as he passed down what appeared to be a servants’ corridor.
A shout sounded from outside the guardhouse, and Heath’s concentration broke. The picture of Prince Lachlan disappeared abruptly, and the sole remaining guard heaved himself to his feet. The moment he stepped out of the room, Heath shot from the cupboard, escaping through another door into the stable yard.
He hurried toward the castle, trying to guess which part of the building the prince had been in. An inquiry of a passing servant gave no indication as to the prince’s whereabouts, so Heath asked instead where he could find the laundress. Looking bemused, the servant directed him to the far side of the castle.
Heath moved as quickly as he could without actually running, but he still didn’t manage to intercept the prince before he reached the laundry rooms. He tumbled into the large open chamber full of huge vats and the smell of soap just in time to hear Prince Lachlan’s calm voice.
“I didn’t realize it was common for uniforms to be destroyed.”
“Not common, Your Highness,” the laundress said fairly. “Sometimes the garments get damaged if the guards have seen active conflict, and no one blames them for that. I can even understand the occasional careless guard misplacing a uniform. But to lose them so frequently, and to tell the royal tailor they must be going astray on our end…well, that got my blood right and boiled to be frank, Your Highness. I run a tight ship here. My workers are meticulous and conscientious. I’d swear to it that we’ve never lost a single uniform, barring those which are damaged beyond repair, and we always burn them as instructed and make a report to the captain of the guard to that effect.”
She glanced up at the end of this tirade, blinking in surprise at the sight of Heath hovering in the doorway.
“Are you lost, My Lord?” she asked.
Heath shook his head, his eyes flicking to Prince Lachlan, who was considering him shrewdly.
“Lord Heath,” the prince said. “This is an unusual place to find you.”
“I came in search of you, Your Highness,” Heath said.
Prince Lachlan raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware that anyone knew of my decision to visit the laundry today. I would be interested to know who directed you here.”
“By all means,” sad Heath carefully. “But don’t let me interrupt your discussion.”
“I think my questions have all been answered,” the prince said, inclining his head graciously to the head laundress. “Thank you for your time. And rest assured that your exceptional work does not go unnoticed.”
“Well, thank you, I’m sure, Your Highness.” The middle-aged woman’s cheeks were pink with pleasure as she curtsied. “We do our best to do our bit.”
With a final nod, Prince Lachlan strode from the room, Heath hurrying to keep step with him. He expected the prince to head back toward the main part of the castle, so was surprised when he instead turned down another narrow servants’ corridor.
He was even more surprised when Prince Lachlan opened a random door, stuck his head into the room beyond, then gestured for Heath to precede him inside. Heath did so, to find himself in a space that was halfway between storage cupboard and repair room.
“Let’s speak plainly, Lord Heath,” said the prince curtly. “Who told you where I was just now?”
“No one told me,” said Heath. He hesitated for a moment, then dropped the caution. “I was hiding in the guardhouse, and I overheard a guard say that you’d asked for a report from the head laundress. When a servant couldn’t tell me where you were, I guessed you were heading for the laundry.”
The prince stared at him, for once allowing his astonishment to show. “You were hiding in the guardhouse?” he repeated in ominous tones.
“Yes, I was,” said Heath impatiently. “I didn’t mean any harm, as I have no doubt you know. I was trying to find out what really happened when Percival was attacked. And given that’s what you appear to be up to, let’s not get too particular about methods. Not everyone can just command the guards to give them information.”
The prince considered him thoughtfully for a long moment. To Heath’s relief, his gamble paid off. When Prince Lachlan spoke again, there was no sign of anger in his voice.
“That is what I’m trying to do,” he acknowledged. “And if you have any insights to share, I’d like to hear them.” His expression turned a little stern. “But no more hiding and eavesdropping.”
“I would prefer not to hide in cupboards, obviously,” said Heath cheerfully, carefully giving no response to the prohibition on eavesdropping. “And I’m afraid I don’t have any new information. But it sounds like you do, Your Highness. Did I understand that conversation correctly? That a number of uniforms have gone missing over several loads, with the guards blaming the launderers and the launderers blaming the guards?”
