A HENRY STORY 3: Covenants Of The Fallen Prince

XXXII. In a Pinch

Staring out at the lake, Henry remained vigilant for any hint of activity. He had taken over the last watch after Gregor had woken him a few hours ago; soon, it would be time to rouse the others.

His gaze drifted toward them . . . Gregor lay with Ares, Luxa with Aurora, Howard with Hera and Nike, although the latter had inched toward Thanatos on her other side. Ripred and Kismet lay alone, as far from each other as possible.

The suspicious glances the others had given Kismet and how they edged away from her when she sat down hadn't escaped his notice. He couldn't help but wonder if it stood out to him because they were doing the same to him now.

Perhaps I should find time to speak with her properly, he wondered. To ask about the things Gregor had told him. He blew out a breath, thinking he should hate them for being so suspicious of her—for only her species—but he couldn't hate them. None of them. Not even Howard.

"Face the past, where you belong / Concede, and you shan't be alone," he recited mindlessly, as he had more often than not in recent times—to finally face those wretched lines if nothing else. He refused to claim that they haunted him, yet the more he thought about it, the more certain he became that his fear had stemmed from an intuitive misinterpretation. It had since become clear that interpreting this part as anything along the lines of reconciliation with Regalia had to be false. They did not want him, and he had already told himself that his place was no longer there with them either. Because a chance to return was not worth longing for. Not if the cost was being chalked in with his old self, judged, and expected to feel guilty for the rest of his life.

Perhaps that was it, thought Henry. Perhaps what it meant was that he needed to finally cease clinging to his past because Regalia was not where he belonged. That even if he cut ties with it entirely—conceded?—he wouldn't be alone.

Whether they shall ever find out and whether they shall reject me if they do, it shan't change anything, he recalled his own words and grimaced. If only he could, thought Henry longingly. If only he could be strong enough to live by this.

Briefly, he considered what Thanatos had replied and that he should forgive himself for the way he had been, yet he quickly shoved it aside. Forgiving himself wouldn't gain him anything. What he needed was to let go.

Instinctively, Henry's gaze drifted over to Luxa, and he felt a stab in his heart, recalling his conversation with Gregor about her. He knew he had to speak to her eventually, yet when and how he was supposed to muster the words, he did not know. Only the memory of the Overlander's sincere face and hand extended in friendship made him feel easier . . . and even more protective of him, against all those who sought it fit to call him anything but a thoroughly kind soul.

"You may wake the rest now so that we might press on."

Kismet had been silent as ever, yet Henry had sensed her coming. "I'm glad that you are here," he said on an impulse, recalling how good it had felt when Gregor had said this to him. "Thank you. I'm certain that it is not easy."

She only laughed. "You know how it is now to be an outcast, even among those who once loved you. I wish you wouldn't have had to find out."

"It has taught me to make my peace with being without them," he said, as though he had already made his peace with it. "And even so, I shan't be alone. I have Death. And I have you, no?"

"Obviously." She glared at him. "We owe each other our lives, pup. Now more than ever. For as long as I breathe, you will always have me. Even if you are a little scheming brat sometimes."

Without much thinking, Henry leaped to his feet and wrapped his arms around her. "I am not a pup," he said, feeling her laugh.

"Then cease acting like one and go wake the others before they catch you hugging a rat."