"It will always be up to you whether you take my offer. I wish to force nothing, yet if you agree that the Bane must be dealt with—together is better than alone."

Henry sat with Thanatos, watching Luxa in the center of the expansive cave, which served as the primary place of residence for the pinchers. The majority of the space was occupied by water, but there was a surrounding beach to keep their feet dry.

"She did remarkably well," observed his flier, and Henry nodded, feeling a rush of pride at her rise. Luxa had never been a skilled diplomat, and it was only then that he first entertained the idea that she could one day grow to become one.

"Heed her request, the king most likely will," the pincher on his other side said, and Henry nodded. He had saved them—and Henry for the second time, no less.

"Oh, I think I never expressed my gratitude for your and your friend's rescue from the lake all that time ago," said Henry, turning to him with a smile and thinking it was their luck that the pinchers seemed entirely unconcerned with Ripred's past lie and the episode with the Fount; none of them had even brought it up as far as Henry had heard.

"We do not mind. We help when we can." The pincher awkwardly scratched the floor with his claw.

"You should learn to accept credit," teased Henry. "Without your recognition of me, we might have been killed today."

The bright red lobster clacked his pincer. "I will go talk to king now. Excuse me you must." Without another word, he slid into the water, swimming deftly to the other side.

Henry grinned. "Are they all so awkward? What do you think?"

"That they're not used to outside company, is what I think," replied Thanatos.

"Likely." Henry stared after the pincher, contemplating how dire their situation had been mere hours ago when they had so expertly sniped them out of the air. Hadn't this pincher claimed he knew Henry, they would have been fighting, not establishing diplomatic relations. Some of them might have even died.

However the pinchers' hierarchy exactly functioned—this specimen had revealed himself as a high-ranking advisor to the king, so his comrades had listened to him and heard Luxa out. Upon learning that she was the queen of Regalia and seeking their aid, they had taken them to their main settlement to speak to their king.

Kismet's presence had sparked initial suspicion, but to everyone's surprise, Luxa had explained after only a moment's hesitation that their enemy was the Bane and that they should welcome gnawers like her who wished to oppose him on behalf of their own species. Some pinchers still regarded her with suspicion, but as she remained in the background, she was largely ignored.

After their entourage had reached the pinchers' settlement, they had been greeted hospitably and even offered food, but only Kismet, the bats, and Howard had appreciated the peculiar shells all of the pinchers seemed to be eating. Henry had not been picky about food in a long time, but even he could barely stomach a few.

"And now . . . will they return to Regalia or seek out more allies?" asked Thanatos.

Henry merely shrugged, unable to meet his gaze.

"You have not even spoken to her." Even without her name, Henry understood he meant Luxa. She, along with Gregor, Ares, and Aurora, lingered on the far side of the cave among a group of pincher babies, conversing with one of the adults.

"I must, and yet . . ." Earlier, he had filled his bond in on the things Gregor had told him before they had been interrupted by the need to engage in diplomacy.

"And yet you cannot help but feel as though you are forcing yourself onto her if you force her to recall."

Henry made a face, shoving Thanatos in the side. "You have become far too good at putting my innermost insecurities into words."

"This is what I must do if you are still not speaking to me about them yourself."

"But I am!" called Henry.

Thanatos gave him a bemused look, then suddenly he turned serious. "It is not merely the issue with Luxa, is it? All of this . . . exclusion is more taxing on you than you let on."

"It—" Henry cut himself off before he could have reiterated, "It is no big deal." Because, then and there, he admitted to himself that it was. "I wish it were not," he said instead, sighing.

Thanatos scowled. "Why did you not come to me sooner if you are unwell?"

Henry made a face. "It is not so much that I cannot handle it," he said, trying his best to believe it too. "There is no point in complaining about something that I must get used to anyway."

"Henry!"

"I mean it!" called Henry. "I promise I am not attempting to carry burdens that are too heavy for me on my own. Yet if this burden can be shouldered alone, there is no need to bother you—or anyone else—with it."

"Henry . . ."

"Oh, do not mind me," said Henry in a deliberately lighthearted voice, although his heart grew heavy and sank like a rock within his chest as he stared over at the others, knowing he'd never really be a part of them anymore. He allowed the ache to bloom in his chest, attempting to steel himself against it. "Really, you should relish the time you still have with—"

"Henry, I will not hear another word!" Thanatos cut him off. "Last time you told me that you needed no comfort, I believed you. And you know where that ultimately led us. I shall never believe you again."

Henry stared at him for a moment, then snorted. "I am not lying."

"You are lying to yourself, pup," snarled a new voice behind them. "And, on top of that, you are telling yourself that hogging his time now, around others, is selfish. After all, you can be certain that he will be by your side for the rest of your lives."

Henry glared at Kismet as she slipped out of a tunnel to their right.

"You, on the other hand," she turned to Thanatos, "are learning well, it seems. Do not believe a word he says about not needing comfort, indeed."

"Oh, I know," confirmed Thanatos.

"I despise you both," said Henry, crossing his arms.

"You should never feel guilty for "hogging" my time." Thanatos nudged him in the side.

"But you should relish your time with the others!" exclaimed Henry. "With Nike. While you still can. I will burden you with all my insignificant troubles when you have nothing better to concern yourself with."

Thanatos groaned. "Do you hear this boy?" he asked Kismet. "What do I do with him?"

"I wish to thank you for saving Luxa," Henry said to Kismet with a smile. "I know not if she will do it, so at least I should."

Kismet gave him a long, exasperated look, revealing that she was acutely aware that he was changing the subject, then exchanged glances with Thanatos. "I hear this boy very well, yet unfortunately, I cannot tell you what to do with him . . . other than chase him down and irritate his nerves until he ceases pretending like his troubles are worth less than everyone else's."

"Perhaps Luxa may even grow some trust in you," Henry continued his topic as if he hadn't heard a word she had said.

Kismet glared at him again. "Perhaps," she said with a groan. "I won't let any more pups die on my watch regardless. But perhaps."

She sat by their side, and the three of them watched the rest of the questers assemble for dinner on the far side. Howard distributed shells and a few fish between Gregor and Luxa, while the pinchers gathered around them in a circle—in their midst was the king, an imposing creature of over seven feet. Henry was not particularly hungry, so he remained where he was. It was a welcomed break from the suspicious glances that had become inevitable whenever he was around them recently.

"If any gnawer has the chance to earn her trust, it may just be you," said Henry. "What you said to her earlier about being a queen has likely left a lasting impression. But you have experience with such a burden, no?"

Kismet flinched. "I have never been a queen. And I have never wanted to be one."

"Yet you have acted as one anyway."

"Perhaps Ripred has a point when he says that you have grown too loudmouthed for your own good."

"Oh no!" Henry laughed. "Do you actually admit that he has been right about something? I shall relay this to him at once."

"You have," said Kismet incredulously. "Oh, perhaps we should engage in that combat you promised me during your last visit to my old domicile soon. You require being cut down to size almost as much as he does now."

"Any time," said Henry, grinning boldly. "Except I shall not let you win."

"Watch it, lest you become too much like Ripred. Or perhaps you already are," hissed Kismet. "What has this boy so overconfident, suddenly?" she asked Thanatos.

"He has always been," said Henry's bond. "Only now he has the skill to match his ego."

"And I was about to ask whether it has to do with how the student has grown into a teacher now. How is the experience, by the way?"

"I need the confidence if I am to be your greatest warrior," said Henry. "And teaching is a pleasure with a student like Gregor. Ripred has jaded him, yet I will mend the damage done."

Kismet wheezed. "Oh no! Do not tell me Ripred has attempted to teach someone echolocation, of all things!"

"And only traumatized Gregor in the process, yes."

Kismet sighed deeply. "He should stay away from attempting to teach if he is not willing to work on his attitude."

"Because he is talented at many things, yet not at teaching?"

Kismet nodded. "Ripred happens to be naturally talented in more ways than the average individual. But as . . . attractive as that quality seems, it almost automatically makes him a bad teacher. Talent will make it easier to achieve a skill, but it will not help convey it to someone else. For that, one needs true knowledge and understanding."

"Attractive, hm?" Henry leaned back with a grin. "Is he still?"

"Perhaps you should focus less on your scheming and more on your stalling your conversation with your child queen," snarled Kismet.

"I am not stalling!"

So quickly that he failed to dodge, her tail smacked the back of his head, and Henry yelped, rubbing the spot. "You told me you were not a pup. I told you to stop acting like one, then."

"I have only just learned about this," whined Henry. "Give me some time, at least!"

"Can you not see that she needs you?"

"I see that she may be better off forgetting about me," said Henry. "Yet I also see that something has to be done about the way she behaves rudely and demandingly." Then he looked at Kismet. "But maybe, if you have already gotten through to her—"

"Whoever has said that she is better off forgetting you?" hissed Kismet.

"Aurora says that she needs you," said Thanatos unexpectedly. "That she has not ceased needing you once since the day you betrayed her."

"And yet she cannot process that I am here," said Henry coldly. "She has suppressed it like a nightmare, too terrifying to confront."

"Not everything that terrifies us is bad," said Kismet pensively. "What she has been forced to confront is that her beloved cousin, whose betrayal and death she had likely only just accepted, has never died. Has never even left."

"In this light, it's no surprise that she would be terrified of letting herself accept, or even less love, you again," said Thanatos pensively. "And even more terrified of how she already . . . does. Because she loves you all the same."

"This," concurred Kismet. "See how earth-shattering this is? How it might have frightened her to death? Or . . . to the point of mental overload?"

Henry made a face. "I understand how you grasp the concept of fearing trust." He nudged his bond, then turned to Kismet. "Yet, how do you know so much about all of this? Have you not lived as a hermit for over a decade? You know so much about the workings of people."

"I do," said Kismet with a sigh. "Because I dedicated a large portion of my time as Gorger's general, and even before that, to studies of behavior and mental processes. I wagered it would benefit my own ambitions as well as the people and the king I served."

"So, is that why Whitespur was "The Cunning"?"

"That is why."

Henry stole a glance at her, recalling the way she had spoken to Luxa—his only genuine glimpse at Whitespur herself, he wagered. And he attempted to imagine her in her prime: Young, sharp, and imposing—a formidable warrior with command over Gorger's armies, evoking the admiration and devotion of all gnawers. And Ripred's interest, as it seemed, he mused with a grin.

For one moment, he felt disappointed that he had not been there to see her as she had once been . . . Then he wondered if he might help her become like that again. "Why was she the Custodian?" he asked instead of announcing this thought. Something told him that she wouldn't respond any differently than when he had last suggested that Whitespur might not be lost entirely.

"Because she was the keeper of her people," said Kismet wistfully. "She was the guardian of order and peace. The last keeper of a golden age, some even said."

"The keeper of peace who fell for the maker of troubles," teased Henry. "Or was Ripred not always like that?"

"Ripred was always the maker of every major trouble," Kismet groaned. "He has never been very keen on convention. Still, when his talent as a rager became public, Gorger offered him the position of a general. Yet by that point, he was already descending into cruelty, and so Ripred refused . . . publicly."

Henry laughed. "Wasn't that a scandal of epic proportions?"

"Oh, yes. Given that essentially every eligible gnawer would have killed for such an offer, Ripred's refusal caused Gorger an unparalleled level of public humiliation. So, it was more than just a scandal. It was the reason he exiled Ripred to begin with."

"Unsurprising, honestly," said Thanatos.

"Indeed! Although not particularly wise, alienating a known rager in such a manner. I suppose it only shows Gorger's lack of foresight." Henry snorted with laughter, then he grew serious again. "You two had schemed against a tyrant back then, yet not grasped your chance to lead a genuine rebellion. Now you might do it better."

He cried out when she smacked the back of his head again. "Did I not say to focus less on your scheming? Ripred and I will never be the way we once were. Not even your unbearable optimism can change that."

"Why not?" whined Henry, abandoning his inhibitions. "You might rectify your mistake and lead the gnawers against the Bane now. You might even lead them into a new golden age afterward. If anyone could do it, it be the two of you."

She glared at him as if he had offended her personally. "So this is what he really meant when he said you are scheming against us. Pup, we will fight for you," she said emphatically. "You have my word that we will. Yet Whitespur is dead, and Prometheus is still running from his destiny as if he could outrun it. If you can convince him to confront it, perhaps he can still do it. Yet I have doubts that this is feasible even for you."

"Honestly, you should know better by now than to think anything is impossible for his ability to inspire," said Thanatos. "But you say this not because you genuinely think he will fail but because you fear that he might succeed, don't you?"

Kismet flinched.

"I shall succeed—just wait and see." Henry nudged her in the side. "I shall unchain Prometheus from his inhibitions, and I shall bring Whitespur back to life, so that they may pave the way for a new golden age—not merely for the gnawers, but for the entire Underland. That is my true scheme, and I shall not rest until it is achieved."

"This might be your most marvelous scheme to date," said Thanatos with a contented smile.

Kismet stared at him as if he had lost his mind. Yet instead of retorting or shooting him down, as he had expected, she merely lowered her gaze. "Try what you must . . . whoever you are now. I cannot even tell anymore."

Henry said nothing, entirely taken aback. He could not even ask all his additional questions about the two of them and their past; he had a feeling she wouldn't say anything else either way.

Nonetheless, as he continued to stare at her, he attempted to picture their earlier days together—had they been happier and more peaceful, despite the inherent forbidden nature of their relationship? Or had they always been as bickering and cranky as they were now? He would certainly not put it past them. But one thing Henry knew for certain: they were not lost irrecoverably, despite what she claimed. Not while they looked at each other the way they did. Not while she could still say his name the way she had in her debilitated state. It had etched itself into Henry's mind, planting the initial seed of his plan to reunite them. Before, he hadn't even thought she was capable of speaking anyone's name with so much reverence.

And . . . He stared over the lake, his thoughts flying to Ripred, wherever he may be. It wasn't like his claim didn't hold true—if not the two of them, who else could even still lead the gnawers back into the light?

***

After the others had finished their meal, Luxa called them all together. "The king of the pinchers has agreed to ally himself with Regalia against the Bane," she announced, and everyone broke into applause.

Henry, too, couldn't help it. Well done, he congratulated her in his head but dared not say it aloud. At least she seemed to be doing . . . fine, for now. He couldn't help but wonder if it was because he hadn't directly spoken to her in a while.

"Furthermore, they have offered to send an ambassador with us to Regalia, and he has volunteered." She indicated the pincher beside her, whom Henry recognized as his friend.

"I am called Iro," he said, stepping closer. "In the name of the king, I will go to your city and speak for my people."

Luxa gave him a respectful nod before facing the questers again. "In addition, he has offered to assist us in negotiating with another potential ally. We have made friendly contact with the stingers, who live further north of here, before. Yet they have close ties to his people, so if he accompanies us, they are even likelier to receive us in friendship."

Howard and Gregor exchanged glances, but this time, neither of them attempted to convince her to forego the detour. Henry gave Iro a grateful nod as well, belatedly recognizing that he had neglected to ask his name before.

"When do we leave for the territory of the stingers, then?" asked Howard.

"Immediately," declared Luxa. And indeed, only ten minutes later, they were on their way again. Gregor and Iro, who was big yet light, rode with Hera, while Howard mounted Nike. Kismet remained with Ares, Henry with Thanatos, and Luxa with Aurora.

They traveled without incident for a few hours. This time, Henry insisted on strapping the saddle gear on, despite the diplomatic nature of their mission. Who knew what they might encounter?

When he wasn't teasing his bond about Nike, Henry was hanging upside down, marveling at the scenery of the Firelands. The further north they flew, the more the view reminded him of the cave with the queen—countless smaller volcanoes lined their path, some quietly bubbling or rumbling, some silently seeping lava. They didn't encounter the currents this time, although the fliers grew anxious after a while. Henry raised a hand to his own head, thinking that he did not blame them in the slightest.

Iro continued to lead them northward with confidence, although the air steadily grew hotter and harder to breathe. It only cleared when they passed the volcanoes and entered a series of what seemed to be regular tunnels consisting of the familiar kind of smooth, black volcanic rock.

Thanatos had just flown up to Hera with Iro to relay Nike's request for a break when his ears twitched. Henry instantly focused and froze when he realized what his bond must have heard: ahead reverberated the shrill battle cries of gnawers.

"Arm yourselves!" he called, instantly drawing his own sword and firestone.

Kismet already pointed downward, and Ares dipped so that she could leap to the ground. As soon as she was down, she repeated Henry's call. "Arm yourselves! Gnawers!"

Gregor, Howard, and Luxa could not hear anything yet, but they still drew their own weapons in preparation.

The fliers passed through a long, winding corridor; Thanatos was directly on Hera's heel, and Henry saw Iro's antennas twitch nervously. "They are battling," he mumbled, and Henry closed his eye to picture more clearly what was going on. But only moments later, he didn't need his hearing for that anymore.

"Defend them!" called Kismet from behind.

Henry's heart raced as he took in the sight before him—a vast cave with two small, quietly bubbling volcanoes on the right, casting barely enough light to see. And in the center, three stingers stood in a circle, aggressively shaking their tails at . . . "Rats!" Gregor called, and indeed, the stingers were surrounded.

The cave floor was swarming with gnawers—some lay dead, most were still very alive and seeking to break the stingers' defensive formation. They seemed to have come from a much larger exit on the far side of the cave, and more were still coming. If Henry were to estimate, he'd say it had to be over a hundred, hacking and clawing away at the scorpions. Only then did he notice the body of a fourth one, lying still in the corner, with rats crawling and jumping over it as if it were part of the landscape.

Henry didn't wait for Luxa's call to arms. With one swift motion, he ignited his sword and unsheathed his boomerang with his left hand before joining in Thanatos' battle cry. Heartbeats later, the projectile slit the neck of a gnawer who had just attempted to bite off the tail of the smallest stinger.

Thanatos shot through the air like an arrow, and, with the help of his saddle, Henry tore through the rows of rats like a fiery bolt. He watched not for how many he slew; all he saw was gut, fur, and flesh—tearing, ripping, slashing open. Howling. Crying. Blood . . . It speckled his face, hot and furious, yet he was far from letting it deter him. For as long as there were some attackers remaining, it wasn't enough.

When Thanatos dipped upward for fresh height, Henry pulled upright and wiped blood-soaked hair strands out of his face, catching sight of Kismet on the floor. She had positioned herself in front of the circle of stingers, fighting multiple members of her species at once—not one stood a chance.

The fliers were still in the air—Hera carried only Gregor, who swung Sandwich's old sword with both hands, not needing to hold a light. Iro had sought refuge in a high crack in the wall, perched and watching. Howard on Nike and Luxa on Aurora—all bloodstained yet unwavering, fighting for their lives.

They were all well, and so Henry immersed himself in the battle yet again. He drove his sword through fur and flesh, cracking bones, stabbing eyes, slicing through arteries and limbs, and in this manner, he lost all feeling for the passage of time.

A desperate scream jolted him back into reality. Thanatos took a sharp turn upward and Henry's gaze flew toward the source. His eye widened when he found Howard . . . on the ground. Nike, who must have nearly collapsed from exhaustion, clung to the wall, barely out of reach of the gnawers' claws.

But Howard, who had apparently fallen off, seemed lost. She couldn't dip down to save him, or she would be torn to shreds. Her piteous cry pierced Henry's ears, and he didn't need to tell Thanatos what to do. His flier instantly shot toward Howard, and Henry rotated the saddle until he hung upside down. He gripped the still-burning sword with his left hand, and when Thanatos came within Howard's reach, he extended his right.

For a moment, Howard looked at him like he had lost his mind, but quickly discerned that he had no choice. Abandoning his sword, he leaped up and clung onto Henry's arm. Under the strain, Henry screamed, urgently hoping that the saddle would withstand, which, at least for now, it did.

"Are you out of your mind?!" yelled Howard, evidently petrified, as they gained altitude.

Henry, who felt like he was on a rack, screamed back, "Perhaps!" earning himself a more frantic than irritated groan from Howard in response.

They flew high above the gnawers, staying out of their reach, yet there was no flier in a position to take over Howard. The way they hung now—with Henry in no position to fight and Howard unarmed—was clearly not a long-term solution either. Henry kept silently hoping the saddle would hold until he suddenly had an idea: "I will release my sword, and you will catch!" he yelled, waving his still-burning blade in Howard's face.

"You will what?!"

"The sword!" For one moment, they locked eyes. Then Henry screamed, "Now, brace!"

Howard caught the sword Henry released at the last second. "You are out of your mind!" yelled Howard, struggling to get a better hold of the sword.

"And you ought to lose some weight!" Henry shot back when the straps of the saddle creaked. He feared that either the gear would break or his arm would dislocate if he had to hold Howard for much longer, yet there was nowhere to land and the cave was not high enough for Henry to release him and Thanatos to catch him safely without coming in reach of the gnawers.

"We have no choice!" Henry released the saddle and grabbed Howard's collar with his other hand to at least distribute his weight better; the straps around his legs stretched and creaked again. "Death! Now!"

Luckily, his flier understood, dipping down immediately. Initially, Howard did nothing but scream in horror, yet when he realized that the gnawers were scared of the flaming sword more than he was of fighting in this position, he even managed to land a few hits.

Right when Henry thought they had cleared enough gnawers to release Howard safely, pain seared through his chest. Henry screamed, immediately releasing Howard, who shrieked as he fell—luckily no more than fifteen feet. He barely managed to drop the flaming sword before landing in a pile of fresh corpses; it took him only a second to pull himself out and lunge for the blade again.

Yet Henry was not as fortunate. Hadn't Thanatos understood that he had been injured and immediately gained altitude, the remaining gnawers might have torn him to shreds—unarmed and dazed as he was.

"How fare you?" asked Thanatos, going back to flying circles near the ceiling and dodging all leaping rats.

"I will live."

One moment passed, reverberating with nothing but the battle cries and shrieks of the gnawers. Then Kismet screamed, "They are retreating!"

And indeed, when Henry cast his next glance down, the number of gnawers had shrunken considerably—they fled back into the tunnel from which they had come.

"At last." Henry blew out a relieved breath, feeling blood seep out of his chest at an alarming rate; it soaked his shredded vest and dripped into Thanatos' fur as he slowly circled lower.

Henry barely mustered the strength to pull himself into an upright position before Thanatos touched down amid countless mangled corpses. His talons piercing through the freshly spilled blood was the last sound that registered with Henry before he blacked out.

***

An indeterminable time later, Henry awoke, barely catching Iro saying, "They express their most sincere gratitude," somewhere ahead.

"Henry?" asked Thanatos immediately, as he felt him stir.

Henry groaned, rising out of his flier's blood-soaked fur. "I am fine." His chest burned, and he felt queasy, barely suppressing a gag as he fought for his bearings.

"I will summon Howard."

"Do not bother," Henry choked out, eyeing the furious gash in his flesh, which luckily hadn't cut deep. When he pressed a part of his shredded shirt into the wound, his ribs still felt intact, yet it bled alarmingly.

"They say gnawers attempted to take their camp, to come before humans," said Iro. Henry found him in front of an imposing fifteen-foot-long stinger who perched on the far side of a new cave, with the rest of the questers assembled around them in a loose circle. Gregor's hand lantern emitted a warm glow, showing no corpses in sight. "They do not like it that stingers now like humans."

"Then tell them they will not have to fear the gnawers anymore if they ally themselves with Regalia," replied Luxa, looking up at the stinger directly.

Gregor spotted Thanatos, who was making his way over quickly, still with Henry on his back, first. "Hey!" he called out, rushing forward. "Are you okay?"

"Have no worry for me," Henry groaned, yet he could not conceal the still-bleeding cut across his chest. It was so much blood . . . The wound was not life-threatening, yet he was losing too much blood, he thought.

"Howard, he's injured!" called Gregor.

Howard, who had just rallied the others—all disheveled and covered head-to-toe in blood yet seemingly unmarred—for a medical check-up, turned.

"I am fine," hissed Henry. In the next moment, he collapsed forward, feeling the straps around his legs tighten. He heard Luxa talk to the stinger, and then Gregor said something, pulling at his sleeve, but his limbs were lead; he could not even muster the strength to untie the saddle.

Henry felt on the verge of blacking out again when an unexpected voice spoke next to him: "You are injured . . . ?"

He jerked up, only to stare into the closed-off yet also uncharacteristically genuine face of . . . Howard. "Why would you care?" He gritted his teeth against the pain. "You may . . . just leave me. I am not in the mood for—"

"Be still," Howard cut him off. "Gregor, return to the others and ask Iro to inquire if we may set up a camp here somewhere. And you," he turned back to Henry, "come out of this gear and show me that injury."

The Overlander complied, not without casting a few concerned glances back.

Henry watched Howard with disbelief, yet he lacked the strength to object as he helped him untie the saddle gear and dismount. "Why are you so nice to me?" he asked, simply having to know before he might pass out again.

Howard didn't respond for a while; he hurriedly fetched his medical kit and helped Henry strip out of his vest, applying immediate pressure to the cut with a thick piece of gauze. When he finally spoke, he did so quietly, without meeting Henry's gaze. "I despise you very ardently for putting me in this predicament, yet . . . you saved my life there."

Henry wanted to turn and see if he had heard correctly but was cut off by his own pained cry when he felt the sharp sting of the disinfectant. "Tha-aah, hey!"

Howard's following silence sounded almost satisfied. When he broke it again, it was with a sigh. "You . . ." He shot Henry a look of offense. "I cannot—not yet—forgive what you did, not if I wanted to, but . . ." He cleared his throat. "It would seem as though you are forcing me to . . . acknowledge the substantial risk you took today. And . . ." He visibly fought with himself before he could say it: "And over the last two years."

With a firm tug, he fastened the bandage securely, leaving the bloodied gauze untouched and simply layering more on top before facing Henry. His gaze was dark and tense, yet—for the first time since the Spout—not hostile. "You might not have done me the favor and allowed me to hate you in peace?"

Henry coughed out a laugh. "Me? Doing you a favor? Only with life and death on the line."

"Apply pressure if you can," instructed Howard, staring at him sourly, then he turned away. Henry attempted to press on his chest as well as he could, yet blood was already seeping through the fresh bandage. "I have your sword, by the way." Howard turned back around, placing Henry's sword by his side. "It is a convenient trick, the fire," he begrudgingly admitted before resuming the task of applying pressure to Henry's chest. "I was . . ." He gave a short laugh. "Ha, I've long criticized you for behaving like a jerk, but I've come to realize that I may have been doing the same thing recently."

"Oh no," said Thanatos. "I think he may actually be apologizing."

"Take my words as you will," hissed Howard, his jaw tightly clenched. Henry thought he had never had so much trouble saying anything . . . yet he did not look away this time.

"Perhaps I should pull stunts like this with you more often." Henry managed a grin, tugging at the bandage.

"Oh, over my dead body. Look—" Howard scoffed, slowly releasing pressure. "Hold it down," he instructed, and Henry attempted to do just that while Howard began packing up his medical kit. With each step, the soles of his sandals disturbed the fresh blood that had pooled around Henry. "I continue to dislike you."

"Did you ever not?"

Howard snorted. "Unsurprisingly, no. But now . . ." He fiddled with the clasp of his medical kit, wiping his bloodied hands. "It is true that we have more important things to fight than each other. You are a . . . powerful ally who has aided many who are close to my heart. It seems as though you are adamant about robbing me of the choice to keep denying this. So," Howard stood straight and cleared his throat. "Let me merely say that this injury is none that you shan't survive—especially considering what you've evidently survived already." He indicated toward Henry's chest and the countless scars marring it. "It is a good thing that you are . . . alive and seem to have found your way. And . . . Henry, I am grateful for your presence today, as well as whenever we have needed you."

With that, he whipped around and strode away toward the others, leaving Henry and Thanatos to stare after him, barely believing what they had witnessed.

"Well, would you look at that?" Thanatos broke the silence first. "Perhaps you should have done that sooner."

"Indeed." Henry leaned on his back, watching Howard line the rest of the group up to tend to their injuries, none of which were as severe as his. Had that really just happened? Howard was grateful that he had been here . . . The thought nestled in his mind, and what couldn't have been more than a minute later, Henry closed his eye, feeling that the bleed in his chest had finally abated.

"I might sleep," he mumbled, curling onto his side, not minding the slowly crusting blood staining the fur against his face.

"Sleep easy," said Thanatos.

Moments later, Henry had drifted off.

***

Henry didn't know how many times he slipped in and out of consciousness over the next few hours. At one point, he realized that he had been moved into what appeared to be a part of the stinger's main residence. Someone had draped a blanket over him, and the blood covering the fur he lay against had hardened entirely.

Slightly different people came to look after him every once in a while, yet Thanatos did not leave once. First, Howard placed a plate with food and a water bag by his side, instructing him to eat and drink.

The next time he opened his eye, Gregor brought him more water, explaining that Luxa had made great strides in her negotiation with the stingers. "The scorpions don't have a king or queen," explained Gregor while Henry drank his fill. "They have something like an elder council, and Iro says that they agree that the Bane has to be stopped. They're also really grateful that we saved them earlier."

Then Kismet crouched by his side. "Oh, would you look at that?" She poked his cheek with the tip of her tail. "Is this greatest warrior defeated by that insignificant cut? I recall times when you would pester me to spar immediately after sustaining something like that," she said, looking infinitely glad that he was reacting to the injury at least remotely normally.

Then she continued to mock him in this manner for several minutes, and Henry thought they were the most pleasant minutes since he had been injured until Nike and Aurora came to fetch her for some negotiation.

"You will recover," said Nike, nudging him in the side. "Nothing defeats you, says Thanatos."

"Nothing ever has," concurred Thanatos.

"Nothing must defeat you, indeed . . . lest I drag you back from the dead to kill you myself," said Aurora resolutely, and Henry snorted.

"Now I almost wish to witness you try."

At one point, Howard came to switch his bandage and finally managed to convince Thanatos to get some rest for himself. "His injury is not infected, nor is it deteriorating. His life is not in danger," Howard assured over and over. "You must gather your strength for the upcoming flight. Luxa wishes to depart once we have all slept."

The next time Henry woke, he was greeted not by one or two but by all of their faces, assembled in a loose circle only a few paces ahead. Howard was handing out food, and Gregor was packing their supply trunks . . . Right—Henry stirred, managing to rise a little—Howard had said they would depart soon. Was this breakfast?

"The stingers have promised us an alliance," announced Luxa to the others. She sounded proud, yet still uncharacteristically detached.

"Then we must return to Regalia," Howard responded. "We must inform the council of our new allies."

Luxa eyed him, and Henry thought she might refuse again. "We should . . . go back," she concurred instead, and at her words, he felt a wave of unease. If they went back now . . . they would return and split up before he had the chance to talk to Luxa.

Before he could fall into a proper panic, Luxa spoke up again. "Kismet?"

All heads turned toward where she had remained on the side, as per usual. She stared at Luxa, who hesitated for a moment but finally beckoned her closer. "You invite me to your dining circle?" she asked, approaching slowly.

Luxa held her gaze before resolutely rising to her feet. "Back in the lands of the pinchers, you have saved my leg, if not my life. I have yet to properly thank you for it, and I wish to do it now. I will not overlook such an act of loyalty. From this moment on, I will no longer . . . treat you as though I mistrust you."

Her words hung in the air heavily as everyone processed their meaning. Kismet remained silent as she sat in their midst. "Ripred was right when he claimed that you were not your father," she finally spoke. "I will not overlook this act of kindness either."

Luxa gave her a nod. "Nothing is ever forgotten," she said, and somewhere in the back of his head, Henry deluded himself that her words had been meant for him.

He gritted his teeth, feeling the last of his hope to ever make things right between them slip through his fingers. If nothing is ever forgotten, he thought, why do you refuse to remember what I sacrificed for you over the last two years? What I proved? Why can even Howard, but not you? Yet, as desperately as he combed his mind, Henry didn't find an answer.