Page 99 of The Queens and the Kings
Or was it?
Did they knowanythingabout the creatures except assumption, or what the mainland said? What she observed on the ocean cast all truths into doubt. Not to mention the phraseWyvern Kings.
“They didn’t used to fly so far away,” Alma added in a musing undertone. “It’s impressive, and terrifying, to see their strength increasing.”
“Why would it increase?”
Alma turned to face Britt fully. Her calm eyes, a slate ocean without wind, peered into her. “Is Henrik truly dedicated to getting rid of His Glory, Britt?”
The question left her breathless. She answered honestly.
“I believe so.”
“His confidence isn’t as certain as Einar, nor his hunger for revenge.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Nils and I have no qualms about Einar. I can see in Einar’s eyes that his bloodlust is strong enough for me to work with, but Henrik has not yet convinced me.”
“That’s why you found Selma?”
A slight head nod. “Yes, and Henrik did show up to the meeting with Nils, made a plan, and showed some motivation toward our mutual enemy. It was all I sought, so I was willing. And it was the right thing to do,” Alma added with a touch of humanity that reassured Britt she wasn’t entirely lost.
Britt’s thoughts raced. “I would never presume to speak for him. As his friend, I can say that Henrik is . . . experiencing a lot. He lost his . . .”
She wavered over the wordhome. Henrik had never claimed to have a home. Nor a family, except Einar, and Einar was at his side.
“Certainty,” she concluded. “He lost his certainty.”
Alma made a sound deep in her throat. Britt opened her mouth to speak again, hoping to press intowhythe wyverns would be flying so far and so singularly, but a noise stopped her. The door opened, then closed. Henrik, striding fast, disappeared out of the yard in three strides.
Britt straightened. Denerfen stirred, calling out as Henrik vanished from sight, his expression anguished. Denerfen leaped off her shoulder, flying for the garden gate.
“Go,” Alma said, low. “He needs a friend. We can speak later.”
Britt jogged to keep up as Henrik wound the thin cobblestone roads that led to the sea, zigzagging across the cliffs, through pedestrian traffic. He concealed himself well to passersby. His steady focus and single-minded determination were no different than usual, but his eyes hid the turmoil.
Whether by intention or instinct, he led them to the wharf. There would be no getting information out of him there, so she set a hand on his arm and tugged. He paused, drawing up short.
“Here,” she whispered.
She pulled him into a park, set with green grass, smooth rocks that children tumbled around, and a quiet ring of trees that separated it from the rest of Klipporno. The oasis against the bustling city was a welcome relief. By some miracle, no lubbers lingered in the verdant square. Once inside, Henrik drew in a deep breath that broadened already wide shoulders.
“Do you want to talk about it, Henrik?”
His lips clenched. “Not really, but I owe you more than silence.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“It was her.”
Her breath caught. Ofcourseit was her. That had been obvious from the moment they stepped into the room. Whether Henrik saw it or not—she doubted he knew his own face well enough—he was definitely Selma’s son. The chin. The angle of his cheeks.
She faltered over a response. What could she offer? Congratulations? Sympathy? Silence? The confounding emotions were confusing and deeply rooted. Henrik chased this particular dream all his life. She imagined the brutal, starving nights as a child, traumatically ripped from Selma’s arms. The dream of a loving mother must have sustained him through the dark. Her heart ached for him.
Henrik shook his head, drawing her back to the present. “I couldn’t stay.”
“That’s understandable.”
