Page 53 of Henrikk’s Secret

“Please.”

The taste eventually grew on them because they stopped scowling and shuddering. They sipped at their limeade like two kings enjoying a fine wine. Asher wouldn’t have changed this moment for anything.

“So, I suppose you want to see the other islands?” Henrikk queried. “Or the mainland. Whatever those were.”

“Perhaps. Eventually, yes. But there’ll be time enough for adventuring.” Asher glanced around at the camp. All they had now was time. A whole lot of it. And he was in no hurry to face those dangerous waves again.

Besides, it was nice to sit here with Henrikk and simply be. For once, Asher wasn’t thinking of how things used to be between them or focusing on what their relationship could be if only one of them would change.

Instead, he was content to be in the present. There was an easy camaraderie between them, the kind that didn’t require words or actions.

There was nothing but time in which to discover what it was they were to each other.

This was a new Henrikk.

And, quite possibly, he was a new Asher. It was safe to say that he’d changed as well.

He’d all but given up hope that there might be something between him and Henrikk. He’d tucked that hope away into a deep drawer, never to be opened again. Henrikk had found that hidden drawer, forcing the lock open and revealing a side of Asher that he’d scarcely dared look at himself. That neglected hope had morphed into something that hungered; a shadow self full of dark desires. Those wants and needs burning within him, making him crave things he’d been scared to ask for before.

Henrikk was drawing a diagram in the dirt, proposing a plan to build a larger hut—a house. He wanted to keep it simple but was soon designing a multi-storey structure.

Asher smiled. “Sounds like an excellent idea.”

Chapter 11

SUBMISSION

Henrikk

Ten weeks since their arrival—a month after Dargotika’s death

Henrikk found Asher sitting on his bench, staring out at the ocean, a dark silhouette against a dark sea and sky.

It had rained non-stop all day, but the storm had cleared by evening, revealing a crescent moon that was hardly a sliver. The air was still, carrying the faint scent of sand and salt. Gentle waves lapped the shoreline rhythmically, a soothing backdrop to the tranquil scene.

Henrikk stood and watched Asher’s back from a distance, enjoying the endless calm. Every now and then, a gentle breeze stirred Asher’s hair, which was getting longer, just like his beard. He wouldn’t let Henrikk trim either, which turned out to be a good thing as his medium-length hairstyle and thick beard made him look regal in a way that Henrikk had never been able to pull off.

“Are you going to stand there and watch me all night?” Asher asked without turning around.

“Is that all right?”

Asher patted the bench beside him, and Henrikk prowled forward. He sat, leaving a foot of space between them. It was a comfortable distance, although Henrikk would have liked to slide closer.

They hadn’t touched one another since Asher had embraced him on the edge of their camp. To his own surprise, Henrikk didn’t feel agitated by that fact. The past four weeks had passed by uneventfully, sublime in their simplicity, and Henrikk had greeted each day with fascination. Sometimes, Asher would watch the sunrise with him. Those moments were nice.

Not dramatic or terrifying. Not thrilling or exciting. Not arduous or full of lust. None of the wild emotions that he’d courted for so long. There was no need for it: There were no executions to order, no dragons to please; No court politics to navigate or cut-throat courtiers who needed cut-throating.

Henrikk didn’t miss any of it. They didn’t even feel like his own memories, as if someone had supplanted images of someone else’s life into his head. They were vivid, though, and he carried the guilt far more heavily than he ever had whilst enacting those barbarities.

These four weeks of quiet had given him the breathing space to reflect. It was a time to grieve, and a time to reevaluate who he was.

He was not a good person.

He’d been quick to decide that, and Asher hadn’t tried to convince him otherwise. Still, there had to be a way forward. He could try and leave the past behind and strive to be good.

But no matter how much he worked to become a decent person, his efforts would never make up for his past, not even close, and that was the most difficult thing to accept. That his mistakes and missteps were set in stone, irreversible, and the damage irreparable. Many had died at his hands, and many more were killed by his soldiers.

How many people would suffer with his other self in charge? Or would that insanity finally end with the dragon’s demise?