Page 43 of Henrikk’s Secret

“Aye,” Asher said before turning on his heel.

“Don’t you want to know what happened?” He hadn’t even asked Henrikk about the sword, though it was obvious he’d seen it.

“Not particularly,” Asher called back.

Henrikk debated whether to follow him. There had been a moment of elation as he stepped from the water, slick with water like an underwater god emerging to grace the mortals with his presence, a fearsome weapon to boot.

Because Asher had been waiting for him, concern etched on his face. It had made Henrikk feel important.

Now, with the general showing no further interest beyond the fact that he was alive, Henrikk was at a loss for what to do. Asher had been his compass in many things, a rock that anchored him no matter how wild or dangerous his antics became. Without that solid presence in his life, Henrikk drifted.

He was just an idiot, standing alone on a beach with a sword so ornate it was more toy than weapon.

He decided that it didn’t matter. He didn’t care that Asher didn’t care. Holding his head high, Henrikk returned to camp.

Asher wasn’t there. Not that he cared. It was merely an observation.

After two hours of brooding, during which he shelled nuts and chewed them with a tense jaw, he went to find Asher. The general was in a small cove nearby, working by lantern light on something large and flat made of rough timber.

“This must be terribly important for you to be literally burning the little midnight oil we have left,” Henrikk drawled.

Asher grunted in reply.

“I do hope it’s a bed,” Henrikk said.

Their current sleeping arrangements were not particularly comfortable. That wooden bench Asher had made for his little outpost, and a table-like structure covered in leaves in Henrikk’s hut, which was little better.

“It’s not a bed,” Asher said.

It was just as well. What he truly desired was a mattress—preferably with Asher on it.

“I brought you a gift,” Henrikk said, holding the dirk out.

Asher hardly glanced at it and made no move to take it. “Rather grand for a machete.”

“It’s an insurance policy against the dragon.”

To his annoyance, Asher simply returned to the wooden plank he was planing.

“You should take the dragon seriously,” Henrikk said, watching curly bits of wood fall away. “There will be consequences if we don’t hold up our end of the bargain.”

Asher shrugged. “Your bargain, not mine.”

“Don’t be naive,” he responded before wincing. It was one of the few times he’d used a condescending tone since their arrival on the island. His fear for Asher’s life trumped all other fears, but he made an effort to soften his tone. “Dargotika won’t stop with me. She’ll make you suffer as well.”

Asher paused his work with a resigned sigh. “I’m listening.”

“If you would simply help me locate the witch, that would be the bargain fulfilled.”

“It is not that simple.”

“It’s not complicated, either.” Henrikk regarded him with scrutiny. “Why won’t you tell me the identity of whoever helped Barbara escape?”

A silence thick with tension sprang up like a solid wall between them, as it always did when Henrikk tried to broach the topic.

Whoever Asher was protecting, he was keeping the secret closely guarded.

“The dragon could pry it out of your mind,” Henrikk said.