Gregor said nothing after that. He was still digesting what had happened and wondering why he felt both the heaviness of sorrow and the warmth of belonging—how that could be.

The higher they traveled, the sweeter and cleaner the air became. Eventually, they emerged from the tunnel onto a rock formation with a flat top and vertical sides. Refreshing breezes swept over them, and a cold spring bubbled out of a crack, plummeting hundreds of feet down into a dimly lit tangle of thick vines.

"We're back in the jungle," observed Gregor, sliding off Ares' back.

"Yes, it borders the Firelands," said Howard.

They each took turns drinking the spring water and cleansing the ash from their skin. Boots declared that she was hungry, so Howard handed her a remaining piece of stale bread. She nestled beside Hazard in Gregor's embroidered blanket and drifted off to sleep. Teslas and Cartesian still hadn't regained consciousness, and Howard administered more sedatives to keep it that way.

In the end, they were all trying to shield each other from pain, thought Gregor. He shielded Boots by not telling her the truth, and Howard shielded the mice and Hazard with sedatives. For how much longer could they still shield each other?

"How fares your head?" Howard asked Henry.

"Better," said Henry. So, Howard proceeded to change the bandage and remove the stitch. But Henry didn't look much better. He actually looked worse, thought Gregor. He gathered his undone hair into a haphazard knot only upon Howard's insistence that he needed access to his neck for the stitch, and his face was tired, sunken, and sterner than before. For some reason, this observation distressed Gregor. But he didn't have the energy to approach him or try to strike up a conversation.

He wasn't the only one, either. No one else seemed able to talk . . . or sleep. They just sat around, staring at the flashlight Gregor had put up again, or down at the jungle. Gregor watched Henry sit quietly by Thanatos' side, then he watched Luxa watching the spring for a while. She seemed unnaturally calm.

"So, it seems the Overlander was on to something about the song." Ripred broke the silence first.

"You mean that it's a prophecy," said Gregor.

"If it is, we should name it," remarked Howard.

"I have already done so in my head, but the name need not stick," announced Aurora unexpectedly. "I call it The Prophecy of Secrets."

"It is well-named," concurred Ares. "Since the marks of secret led us to it."

"Its sheer existence was a secret," said Henry.

Howard nodded. "No one suspected our childish song to be a prophecy."

"One we still need to break," snarled Ripred. "I think we understand the first two parts now. We know who . . . or what the queen is. We know about the nibblers. How does the last part go?"

For the first time, Luxa raised her gaze. When she spoke the last verse, it sounded toneless, and with neither the normal—playful—nor Henry's somber melody, they were just words. And loaded words, at that.

"Now the guests are at our door, greet them as we have before. Some will slice, and some will pour. Father, mother, sister, brother, off they go, I do not know if we will see another."

Gregor scooted back and forth. Suddenly, he didn't know if he even wanted to know what it meant.

"I suppose the first question is who the guests are," said Howard.

"Well, if the door opens to Regalia, which I'm assuming since Sandwich called it "our door", then the guests are probably someone Her Highness has recently declared war on," replied Ripred.

"The gnawers," Luxa concurred. "And we will greet them as we have before."

"Some will slice and some will pour," said Henry, looking like he already knew exactly what it meant. Gregor remembered that this was the part of the dance where everybody pretended to pour tea and serve cake . . . But somehow he doubted that Sandwich had foreseen them inviting the rats to Regalia for a tea party.

"What does that mean?" he asked, despite himself.

"Swords slice," mumbled Luxa.

"And when the city is under siege, we- the Regalians pour boiling oil over the walls onto the enemy," added Henry, looking almost uncharacteristically grim. He said the words without any particular sense of fear or revulsion, but Gregor was filled with both.

Nobody felt the need to go over the "Father, Mother" part again. They instead disassembled into groups of two or three again. Luxa sat with the nibblers, the kids, and Howard. Ripred joined Henry and Temp in assessing their remaining supplies, and the bats huddled together by the back wall, where they could hang.

Gregor remained alone by the edge. His stomach growled, but the thought of eating anything repulsed him. He didn't bother paying attention to the quietly going conversations; he just mindlessly stared into the jungle. Until someone tapped his shoulder.

"It is time to head back to Regalia," said Luxa, and Gregor pivoted around. They had all gathered behind her: Ripred, Henry, Howard, and the bats, all seemingly waiting for him.

"Someone must inform them that we have war," said Howard. "Tell them about the happenings here and that they must prepare."

Gregor looked around, realizing that they must have already done all their planning . . . without him. "Okay." He stood up with a silent sigh. "Let's go then."

"Oh, I'm not going," snarled Ripred. "No point in that. Neither side would welcome me."

"Me neither," added Henry after a short pause.

"None of us," said Luxa, stepping forward. Henry behind her perked up, but she looked only at Gregor. "It is you who must go and take the children back to Regalia."

Gregor's mouth opened and closed again. "What?" He stared around at their closed-off faces. "Wait, what are you others going to do?"

"We will remain," said Luxa, exchanging a glance with Howard. "To gather allies for the war and search for surviving nibblers."

A moment of unbroken silence passed before Henry took a leaping step toward Luxa. "You will do no such thing!"

"I told you he'd say that."

Henry ignored Ripred and planted himself in front of Howard and Luxa. "This is out of the question. You go with Gregor, the both of you."

"Now that the war has truly begun, it may be time for you to cease commanding me," said Luxa, with a hint of ice in her voice.

"I will do no such thing," retorted Henry. "Recall you not that you are still not my queen? As far as I am concerned, you are a reckless child who doesn't know when to quit."

Ripred snorted, and Luxa's brow creased in offense. "I am not a child!" she hissed. "And have you not pledged—"

"Luxa, out here is not your place," Henry cut her off. "Perhaps you aren't a child. Perhaps you are a queen." He took a final step and grabbed her by the shoulders. "But even in that case, you must go back. The queen has a war to prepare for. A city that has concerns for her and subjects who must know that she is safe and on their side."

Luxa said nothing, staring at her still-ashen toes.

"You have no need to stay here," insisted Henry. "Because you have me to stay in your place."

Luxa's head flew up.

"We swore a vow together. Remember?" Henry gave her a sour smile. "What else can I do to fulfill it other than be out here in your place? I wish to do something too. Do you not understand? I will . . ." He took a deep breath. "What if I search out the Bane and make an effort to discover his plans?"

"You wish to serve as a spy?" exclaimed Luxa, her eyes widening.

"You know, Your Highness, the lad's got a point," interjected Ripred. "He could be most useful as a spy. He does know the paths and creatures out here better than any of you, right?"

Henry nodded. "And I am also on good terms with most species that reside here by now, so I may spread the news that we require allies as well. Luxa, do you not see that I wish to keep my end of the vow like you wish to keep yours?"

"Will you . . . look for surviving nibblers too?"

"Of course," assured Henry. "I shall do three things then." He released her to count on his fingers. "Gather information about the Bane's plans, spread the word to any potential allies, and discover whether any nibblers still have light and need saving."

It was then that Luxa smiled for the first time. "Will you send for me as soon as you have news?" she asked almost timidly.

"And I shall sign my letter with a crossed scythe, the symbol that we have created," said Henry. "Then again . . ." His gaze drifted to Ripred, who had apparently caught himself a fish to eat and gnawed on a bone. "Perhaps we will."

Something audibly cracked between Ripred's teeth. "Pardon?"

"Your nose will lead our way, and I'm still not fully recovered. Not that I need a babysitter, but . . ." Henry gave Ripred a sour grin. "Let us be spies together, outcast buddy. What say?"

"If you would stop calling me that!"

"Oh, come on!" exclaimed Henry.

"Come on, indeed. You have nothing better to do," said Thanatos behind his bond.

Ripred groaned. "Fine, fine. The lad, his flier, and I—all together on a little road trip. How riveting."

"This . . . is not a bad plan," said Howard, who had remained surprisingly quiet so far. "I cannot say that he has no point, Cousin, when he claims that you belong in Regalia. As little as you may enjoy this, a queen's place is not at the front line."

"You will have enough opportunity to prove your bravery and loyalty, but not today," added Aurora.

"Then all of you fly back," concluded Henry.

Howard made a face, eyeing the sword on Gregor's belt. "Gregor must go back for his sword and Luxa for her people. And I?"

"And you go back because you are a healer, not a warrior," said Henry. "Your aid will be welcome when the hospital begins overflowing with wounded."

Gregor made a face, imagining what it might be like to have real, frequent battles with wounded and . . . dead, coming in hourly. Then, for the first time, he thought about his mom.

He opened his mouth to ask if she would be okay, but then something else Howard had said registered in his brain. "What do you mean I have to go back . . . for my sword?" He gripped his hilt. "I have one right here."

"Not any sword. Your sword," said Ripred, his eyes narrowing.

"Has he not been told anything?" asked Howard.

"About what?" exclaimed Gregor with a scowl.

"The sword that Vikus gave you," said Howard slowly. "Sandwich's sword."

"Now that the war's begun, you're of no use to us without it," added Ripred.

"Oh, that." Gregor's frown deepened. "Wait, why do I need that?"

"Has . . . Have you really not told this boy anything?" exclaimed Ripred, then he groaned. "We shouldn't lose more time. Howard, can you tell him on the fly?"

"Tell me what?" Gregor was almost begging now.

"What the prophecy says," said Ripred. "The one I mentioned to you about killing the Bane—the Prophecy of Time."

"I-I am not going to—" Howard cut himself off.

"What's this here about a prophecy?" Henry chimed in. "Why is there a hold-up? Are you obsessing over that again?"

"Well, this one's a special one," said Ripred.

"And no one will tell me why." Gregor groaned, almost adding, "Even though I've survived three . . . four others now."

"Prophecy of Time . . ." Henry scowled. "I recall . . . something. Not much. Only about a war, and something about a code. Many pointless words."

Ripred snorted. "Atta-lad. But you care not much for prophecies, do you?"

"I care for prophecies," interjected Henry. "Only not for letting them dictate my life." He walked up to Gregor, ruffling his hair. "Are prophecies not circumstances, if you think about it? And we already spoke about letting those define you."

"It might not be so easy this time," mumbled Luxa.

"Why not?" asked Gregor. He had just begun relishing the fact that Henry's spirit appeared to be back to normal, but from the way they all looked at him . . .

"Listen not to the naysayers." Henry wrapped an arm around his shoulders, ushering him toward Ares. "Fly to Regalia and make your choice the way that you wish to make it . . . And do not beat yourself up over it. Will you promise that?"

Gregor opened his mouth, remembering that he hadn't even asked Henry how he had lived through the Prophecy of Gray yet. But then he closed it again. "Alright," he mumbled instead, not knowing whether he could keep that promise.

"A fine choice he must make," snarled Ripred. His eyes were on Howard and Luxa. "You must at least tell him some things on the fly."

Howard sighed. "We shall try."

"Then let us no longer delay." Henry clapped his hands. "Someone wake the children and take Temp with you too."

"To fight, I stay, to fight." Henry jumped when an antenna poked him from behind.

"Temp . . ." Luxa brushed past Henry and kneeled before him. "I know you wish to fight, but there is something else I must ask of you: go to the crawlers, tell them what happened, and rally them to our cause."

"Excellent idea," concurred Henry. "Go and tell them that the Queen of Regalia and the Wielder of Light require their aid. They will follow you."

"Follow me?" asked Temp, his antennas quivering.

"You are wise, so they would be wise to follow you," said Henry.

"Wise and perceptive of danger," said Luxa. "And courageous."

This was true, thought Gregor. And more often than not, they had all found out the hard way.

Undoubtedly, their words were true, but . . . Gregor looked back and forth between Luxa and Henry, one kneeling and one standing, giving Temp appreciative smiles. He flashed back to the royal cousins he had met when he had first arrived in the Underland. The spoiled brats who had made fun of the roaches—their slowness, their inability to fight, their cowardliness . . . I would as soon bond with a stone. At least it could be counted on not to run away in battle. Hadn't Henry said that?

"Would you look at that?" Ripred nudged him, pointing at Henry and Luxa.

"I know," said Gregor, and as he looked at them again, he smiled. They had certainly come a long way.

"You, so say, you?" said Temp.

"I, so say, I," reciprocated Luxa.

"Will you do this, Temp?" asked Henry.

"Yes," confirmed the cockroach.

"Thank you," said Luxa, laying her hand on his head so that his antennas gave a quiver. There was one more good moment on a very dark day, thought Gregor, his smile widening.

"Your bonds need rest," Ripred chimed in. "We rest, and then you fly. Boy, how about you take watch?"

Gregor frowned, and then he shrugged. "Fine." He wasn't particularly tired anyway.

"Listen here." Howard tapped Henry's shoulder. "Do not overly strain yourself. Get as much rest as you can in the next few days." And then, to everyone's surprise, Howard handed Henry his medical kit. "I took everything I would require for the way back out. The rest is yours. Use it wisely."

For one moment, Luxa's two eldest cousins held each other's gazes, and Gregor mused at how different they were—and yet so alike in their care for her . . . for them all.

"Many thanks," said Henry eventually. "This will be a great aid."

"Ripred, Death says that we may depart at once," announced Henry, pivoting to him.

Ripred made a face, looking over at Gregor. "Soon," he said. "I am a bit tired myself." He yawned and stretched theatrically. "But better say your goodbyes now. We'll likely depart before you others wake."

And so they stood there, in their battered little circle. Gregor watched Nike press against Thanatos' side, mumbling something. He watched Henry pat Howard's shoulder, assuring him that they needn't worry. And then he watched Luxa walk up to Henry and put her arms around him. "We shall see each other again soon, yes?" she almost pleaded.

"Soon," confirmed Henry, hugging her back and then patting her head. "Fly you high . . . Your Majesty."

"Fly you high, Death Rider," she mumbled. It was only then that it hit Gregor that she still didn't know whom she was hugging there. He looked back and forth between them, realizing that, somewhere along the way, they had grown so close that it had been easy to forget that she didn't know his name. "We are all in your debt," said Luxa. "Now more than ever. We count on your loyalty."

And then it also hit Gregor that he had to say goodbye too. "Hey, you—"

Before he could even decide what to say, Henry had already released Luxa and hugged Gregor just as tightly. "Fly you high," he said. And in a quieter voice, "Please forget not to deliver greetings to Nerissa."

"I will," promised Gregor.

"And beat yourself up over no prophecies or consider yourself choiceless."

Gregor laughed weakly. "I'll try. Hey . . ." He tightened his arms around Henry one last time, feeling another pang at the thought that he'd be leaving him out here. "Take care of yourself out here, okay? And thanks for everything. I mean it when I say, I don't know what we would have done without you."

Not long after, Gregor watched Henry make off toward Ripred and sat down on the edge of the rock for his watch. And only then, for the first time, Gregor lamented that he couldn't say goodbye to Henry, calling him by his name.