A HENRY STORY 1: Memories Of The Fallen Prince

V. Even

Henry froze. He should do . . . what? His gaze found the rim of the ledge, inches ahead, and the floor beneath that was crawling with rats. His heart hammered—and not from adrenaline.

Only a few days ago, Henry would jump from such and far greater heights for fun. But suddenly, the thought of free-falling and depending on a flier to catch him made his throat lump with fear.

As soon as he processed this, he wanted to slap himself. What was he, a coward? He was Henry, the Prince of Regalia, and he was not afraid of falling. He loved falling as much as he loved flying.

Henry angrily wiped his hands on his shirt, fighting to steady his breathing. His gaze met Thanatos, then the rats, and he knew there was no other way. They had already spotted him, and he barely scrambled up to dodge the first claw.

Henry scooted to the side, finding a spot to stand, and pressed his back against the wall. He could barely make himself look down. How would he find the courage to jump? It was not about falling; it was about being caught, he told himself. And he would be caught by the flier who had caught him last time.

Henry refused to think of the many times Ares had caught him before he had let him fall and about how this flier was not his bond, not even his friend. He had no real obligation to catch him at all. And yet, he would have to risk it.

With one last glance in the flier's direction, Henry swallowed the vexing fear, clenched his fists tighter around the belt prongs, and leaped.

Even though Thanatos caught him as quickly as he could, taking into account that he also had to dodge all gnawers on the way, Henry's head spun with panic by the time he could cling to the flier's fur.

Henry let out an enraged string of curses, and Thanatos' ears twitched. "I greet you too," he said mockingly.

"Not you!" cried Henry, grateful for the distraction, almost missing the large, cream-colored gnawer that took a flying leap at them. He registered the wide-open mouth with the saber-like teeth, and he knew there wasn't enough time to draw his sling. Instead, he grabbed one of the stones and flung it directly into the rat's mouth. It shrieked and twisted, and Thanatos veered so sharply to dodge that Henry barely held on, cursing again.

"Not bad."

Only on the side did Henry realize that this had just been a compliment. Then a sudden jerk nearly knocked him off Thanatos' back again. He cried, almost dropping the sling, and caught a glimpse at the cream-colored rat he thought he'd put out of action; it had evidently spat out the rock and dug a claw into one of Thanatos' legs.

The flier cried in pain from both the claw in his leg and the following collision with the floor. Henry was flung off Thanatos' back, and sharp pain speared his shoulder when he landed on it. The impact dazed him; his vision blurred, and he remained lying still, suddenly convinced that he hadn't the strength to move anymore. Every inch of his body ached, and his head spun. All he wanted was to be home, in his bed, laughing at this odd, twisted nightmare. Henry closed his eyes. He wanted to wake up.

Instead, something yanked him up by the collar, and when Henry flung his eyes open, he stared into the face of the cream-colored gnawer. "You ruined our fun, human pup; now you die!"

The livid hatred in his voice made Henry flinch; he instinctively raised his hands to cover his face. That's when he remembered the belt prongs. With no hesitation, he balled his right hand into a fist and rammed the prong directly into the gnawer's yellow eye.

The rat shrieked in pain and released Henry, who, fueled by adrenaline and desperation, managed to land on his feet, duck, and dodge out of the way of all claws and tails, scanning the room for Thanatos.