VI. Vineyard

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"Are you awake?"

Thanatos' only response was a vague hum, yet Henry rose from where he had been lying with his head on the flier's back anyway. "I cannot sleep."

Thanatos still didn't respond, and Henry sat in front of him with crossed legs, attempting to make out the rest of the party in the dim natural light. "It is all so . . ." He broke off, for he still had no words for what he was feeling.

The revelation that Hamnet was still alive had already been a shock, but the tale Ripred had shared hours ago had left Henry deeply disturbed. His gaze automatically found Luxa; how long had it been since he had given up on finding out what had happened to Hamnet?

Henry forced himself to dig into the deepest depths of his mind, unearthing every shard of memory he could find. Memories of Hamnet—younger, paler, skinnier, lying in a hospital bed. There were people clustered around it, and then there were breakdowns and screams, and finally stoic silence. Memories of obsessive searches, tears, questions, rumors, and hushed whispers. Of angry gazes and orders to be silent whenever Hamnet's name was mentioned.

"At least try and sleep. You know very well what awaits tomorrow."

Henry pressed his lips together; of course he knew what awaited. They would have to somehow move this disorganized, inexperienced group of mostly children through the most dangerous part of the Vineyard of Eyes.

"You knew all that already, no? Hamnet's story, I mean."

When Henry looked back at Thanatos, the flier froze. "I . . . did," he said after a short pause.

"Because you were there too." Honoring Teslas' request to not disclose what he had told him about Thanatos was one thing, but Henry suddenly felt like he needed answers more than keeping that promise was worth.

Thanatos' eyes narrowed. "What made you think that?"

"Teslas told me." Henry's eye found Frill, who sat on the other side of the clearing, keeping watch, and he lowered his voice even further. "A long time ago. Before you were kidnapped by the Sicix. But why does this matter?"

"What it . . . wait!" Thanatos scooted closer, alarmed. "What exactly did he tell you?"

"A lot." Henry turned to sit right in front of him. "That you moved to Regalia after the garden was lost. And that you ran away altogether, some three years later." He crossed his arms. "But why did you not tell me any of this yourself?"

Thanatos stared at him silently, and Henry thought he had never looked so much like he genuinely didn't know what to say. "Because there was no reason to. It lies in the past," he mumbled eventually. "It had no relevancy in the here and now until we crossed paths with Hamnet, did it?"

"It had no relevancy?" hissed Henry. "What about the relevancy of your trust in me?" He gritted his teeth. Hadn't he brought up his curiosity about Thanatos' past numerous times now? How had he not picked up on that yet? "Are we not bonds?" he asked more quietly.

When Thanatos didn't reply immediately, an icy spear of panic pierced Henry's heart. "We are—"

"Of course we are." Thanatos finally concurred. "But . . . I don't . . ." He shook his head. "Why does this matter so much to you?"

"Do I not deserve to know what happened to you?" Henry asked in return, frustration boiling in his gut. "You know that I have been curious. And we are no longer just allies."

Thanatos looked at him skeptically, and Henry fought back the urge to begin yelling. How did he not understand?

"I do not want there to be secrets between us," hissed Henry. "Yet there are. There still are. That is what matters to me."

A HENRY STORY 2: Trials Of The Fallen PrinceDove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora