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“I know your family has taken a different view from the crown on the power-wielding question from the beginning, and of course I can understand why that is. We never expected everyone to agree. But I think you’re reasonable enough to acknowledge that up until the Winter Solstice, every decision was made carefully, based on appropriate counsel, and applied with moderation. But in my mind, that event marked a change.”
“What do you mean?” Heath pressed, when Prince Lachlan fell silent.
The prince cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how to explain it, or even if I should. I know there are some among the court who would readily claim that the restrictions indicate that my father has at last decided to be guided by their point of view.”
“No need to dance around it,” Heath said encouragingly. “We both know you’re speaking of Lord Niel.”
Prince Lachlan almost smiled, but not quite. “At any rate, I don’t believe their influence has grown with my father in recent months. And it certainly isn’t my influence that’s led him. In fact…”
He hesitated, some part of him reluctant to admit whatever was coming next. Heath waited, amazed by the prince’s sharing. He had the sense of an overfull dam—not bursting, but suffering a small breach which allowed the release of just enough pressure to prevent a break. Heath could only be glad he was the one the prince had decided to trust with this release.
“In fact,” Prince Lachlan tried again, “I didn’t even know he was considering it until the decision was made. He didn’t include me, or explain his reasoning.”
Heath frowned more deeply. “Who’s in his ear then?” he asked. “If it isn’t you, or the Chief Counselor?”
Prince Lachlan raised his hand helplessly. “Who’s to say anyone is? I don’t mean to suggest his mind has been meddled with, as once happened to his father. Perhaps he was just so distressed by the incident with the dragons that it’s eaten away at him, and led him to abandon some of the caution he’s always observed.”
“But you don’t think so,” Heath said confidently.
The prince didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. Heath could read it in his eyes.
He pondered the other man’s words. He’d forgotten about the incident from well before his time, when the former king—then crown prince—had been magically manipulated to near-disastrous effects. The perpetrator hadn’t been a power-wielder—in fact, Heath’s grandmother had been the only known power-wielder in Valoria back then. A magical artifact had been used, one of the few to ever exist. Heath had always thought of that plot as involving a different type of magic entirely from that of his family, but now he thought about it, the old story might go a long way toward explaining the crown’s wariness regarding magic.
The silence stretched out, the unspoken question lingering in the air: who was influencing King Matlock if not his own advisors? As strange as the mystery was, Heath almost felt encouraged. If someone else was playing on the king’s understandable displeasure over the dragons’ warning, it meant that King Matlock hadn’t simply become unreasonable. They could probably still reach him once they had something concrete to bring him.
“Well, until we’ve found more information, I suppose there’s nothing further to be done. I’d best get back to this report,” Prince Lachlan said at last.
“More missing laundry?” Heath joked.
The prince gave a wan smile. “Not quite. Another unfounded allegation of attempted murder, actually.”
“By who?” Heath asked, startled enough to overlook the somewhat unfair characterization of Percival’s beating.
“It’s nothing of much substance,” Prince Lachlan said. “An unexplained death in the north. A man of no known occupation collapsed in a tavern. Normally not something we would even hear about, but apparently he claimed right before he died that he’d been poisoned, and the widow demanded an investigation.”
“Was there one?” Heath asked.
The prince shrugged. “A guard squad was sent out. There was nothing much to find. Other than his word, there was no reason to think he’d been poisoned. He was drinking heavily, and from all accounts it wasn’t the first time. No one was especially surprised that his overindulgence reached a fatal level.”
“Strange,” Heath mused, his thoughts on his outing the day before. “Did you hear about the deaths in the southwest market?” he asked. “Two men, working at different stalls, who apparently both died from eating something poisonous?”
“No,” said the prince offhandedly. “I hadn’t heard about it. Very tragic. But if there were two cases, I daresay a health inspection has been ordered. Some of these vendors don’t follow the regulations very closely, and the consequences can be serious.”
Heath frowned. “Would you have access to the outcome of any such inspection?”
“If I wished to,” the prince said, looking up from his report with a touch of impatience. “But I don’t have any particular interest in the matter, to be honest.” He searched Heath’s eyes for a moment before his gaze dropped down to the report on his desk. “Are you suggesting a connection?”
“I don’t know,” said Heath. “It just strikes me as strange. Three deaths in a short span, all with the word ‘poison’ thrown around.”
The prince still looked unconvinced, but he didn’t dismiss the suggestion, which Heath appreciated.
“I’ll look into it, see what the health inspection turned up.”
Heath nodded his thanks. “And I’ll see if I can find out anything more about the attack.”
The prince didn’t look hopeful as Heath took his leave. After all, they’d found nothing to go on. But it occurred to Heath that there was one avenue he hadn’t tried yet.
Chapter Eleven
