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“Eloise tells me time is critical,” August said, as soon as he’d entered the water. Paul and Griffin followed behind him, their expressions determined as their legs transformed seamlessly to tails. “It’s not ideal to travel at night, but we need to shelter somewhere far enough away that a haphazard search won’t find us. We know some places. By the time they can do a methodical search in the daylight, we’ll have moved on.”
Merletta shook her head. “This isn’t like last time, where they thought you were dead. They know Tish, Eloise, and I are out here, and they’ll be determined to find us, and make sure we don’t survive to tell our tale. If we hide anywhere in the vicinity of the triple kingdoms, they will find us.”
“But where else can we go?” Griffin demanded. “This is a sheltered part of the ocean, Merletta. The deep ocean is no joke. I don’t think we can afford to risk it, not when we have nowhere specific to go.”
“Actually…” Merletta swallowed. “I might have somewhere to go. Somewhere I’ve been offered safe haven before. But it’s a long journey.”
“You want to travel across the open ocean?” Tish repeated, aghast. “We’d all die for certain.”
“No we wouldn’t,” August said confidently. “We survived out in the depths for almost a year before we came to this island. If we travel during the daylight, and take appropriate precautions, there’s no reason we can’t traverse the ocean safely.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Merletta told him. “Because the place I’m thinking of will take days to get there. Possibly a whole week, if I’ve understood the distances correctly.”
“Where?” Griffin and August spoke at the same time.
Knowing how the younger guard would feel about her answer, Merletta focused her eyes on August. She drew in a deep pull of water, her emotions a more tangled mess than she could ever remember them being before.
“Heath’s kingdom.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“If you think I’m sharing a carriage with that traitor, you don’t know me at all.”
Percival was clearly trying for dignified outrage, but it came across more sulky than anything. Heath didn’t know whether he wanted to roll his eyes or punch his brother in the face.
“That’s enough, Percival.” The Duke of Bexley’s voice was frigid.
Unprompted, Heath’s magic stirred inside him, reaching out curious tendrils. His father’s anger he could perceive with his ordinary senses. But the fear—almost all-consuming in its intensity—was deeper below the surface. It was pervasive, however, muddying all his father’s thoughts and reactions. It made trying to read the older man’s state of mind like peering through murky water.
At the thought, his extra sight instantly threw another image in front of his awareness. Merletta, swimming rapidly through the water, her expression tight. What was distressing her? Was she in danger? Heath tried to cast his sight wider, and he thought he caught a glimpse of another mermaid swimming behind Merletta. A fair-haired girl he didn’t recognize. They appeared to be swimming over a canyon, no hand-crafted structures in sight. Were they on the way to the island?
Heath’s father threw him a sharp look, reminding Heath how skilled the duke was at sensing the use of power.
He drew back from the magic inside him, Merletta’s image fading back into a tug on the edge of his consciousness. It was a great effort to pull his thoughts away from her without knowing what was happening, but his own surroundings required his full attention. Even if Merletta was going to Vazula, he wouldn’t be at liberty to join her there that day.
“I don’t care how angry you are, Father,” Percival said, his voice as steely as the duke’s. “The only way I’m getting into a carriage with Heath is if you physically force me in. And we both know you can’t do that. I’ll ride.”
“Percival, please.” Their mother’s voice was strained. Heath could sense her embarrassment that the servants were witnessing the display. “You know the terms of your release. Your father went to great lengths to convince King Matlock to let you return to Bexley Manor. And one of the conditions is that you travel there in a vehicle driven by a royal coachman.”
“It’s outrageous,” Percival muttered, and Heath’s patience finally snapped.
“What’s outrageous is the fact that you’re complaining! If it wasn’t for Father’s intervention, you’d still be in the dungeons!”
“I was only in the dungeons because I was fool enough to believe Father when he told me that if I went with the guards willingly, the king would be reasonable,” Percival retorted hotly.
“Get in, Percival.” Their father’s voice was calm, but unyielding.
“I told you, I’m not spending hours shut up with—”
“I’ll ride,” said Heath curtly, turning his back on his brother.
It wasn’t as though he was itching to sit with Percival, either. The two of them had barely spoken since Percival ran from the guards outside Prince Lachlan’s study. Heath knew that his brother blamed him bitterly for not taking his side when he’d only acted out of a belief that Heath’s life was in real danger. But what did Percival really expect him to do? The fact that Percival had made it out of the dungeons and was allowed to return to Bexley Manor—effectively under house arrest—was testament to their father’s diplomacy. And perhaps to the fact that enough moderation remained in King Matlock to wish to avoid open hostilities between the crown and the power-wielders. Not to mention the king must be ready to have Percival and his polarizing influence away from the throngs of the capital.
Percival recognized neither the diplomacy nor the moderation, of course. His sense of being unjustly oppressed had only grown more intense through the experience. He seemed incapable of comprehending that regardless of his intentions or motivations, what he’d actually done was attack two of Prince Lachlan’s personal guards in order to force his way into the crown prince’s study, then fled when they attempted to apprehend him.
The journey was slow and tedious, but not nearly as much as it would have been if Heath had been in the carriage with Percival and his mother. The duke rode beside Heath, but they hardly spoke. Every now and then the older man threw Heath a calculating glance, clearly feeling the magic Heath was using as he tried to see Merletta.
The ride took half the day, and Heath wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that Merletta continued to swim swiftly, with only occasional breaks, for its entire duration. Surely the trip from her kingdom to Vazula was nowhere near that long…but where else would she be going? He wished he could get her attention by calling her name, the way she could his. But she wasn’t Reka—the connection only went one way.
