She shook her head at him. “You are absolutely incorrigible.” Despite her scolding, she pressed another berry to his lips, letting him kiss her fingertips this time. Her breathing grew uneven at the slow tease, taking in Henry’s hungry eyes with unconcealed longing.
And yet, she continued. Another strawberry, and another—each one brought the two inching closer until he could smell the sweetness of her breath.
Henry wanted to pounce, to devour her lower lip that seemed to call to him and erase all higher brain functions. Though he still didn’t know her name, he was desperate to kiss her. Through her hesitance she leaned in, and Henry knew this was the green light he was yearning for. No one captured his attention like she had. No one made him wonder as much as her.
The moment he leaned in, Carlotta’s voice broke through the grounds. “Henry! Son, are you out there? Your father’s looking for you.”
Henry was crestfallen when she jumped up and shoved the bowl of berries at him. “I have to go! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I wasn’t thinking!”
“Wait! It’s just Carlotta. She doesn’t care.”
“I’m supposed to be waiting in the car. You never saw me out here!”
Henry wanted to grab her and demand she tell him her name, birthday, address, shoe size, favorite color, and a million other things. He wanted so much more, but she was already scurrying off the gazebo and running away. Henry stood, his fist clenched in frustration with himself. He’d never cared much who occupied the seat next to him—there was always someone to take it. But now that he finally had an opinion about who sat there, he couldn’t keep her in one place long enough to understand her.
What’s more, she’d only eaten a handful of fruit, and he wondered if she needed more.
“Henry, don’t you make me come out there.”
“Coming, Carlotta.” He clutched the bowl, wanting to follow after her, but knowing he had to tend to his duties. His entire body tightened with regret as she trotted up the embankment toward the driveway, disappearing into her car as she locked herself inside.
3
A Lethal Among Them
Henry cringed at the grating laugh from across the table. It sounded like a mix between a cartoon character and breaking glass. He’d never paid attention to who the Baron brought to these dinners, but tonight he was tuned in to every move made by Lady Tremaine. She was tall with a long neck, reminding Henry of a gangly ostrich. She had black hair that was pulled too tight into a bun at the top of her head, wreathed with golden combs. Her low-cut dress stood out, since all of the other women at the dinner were either in professional office wear or tasteful dresses befitting a refined dinner at the palace. Lady Tremaine’s freckled and wrinkled breasts were on display for the Baron, pushed up garishly and demanding attention.
“I mean, his butler had never heard of a ceramic burr grinder. Can you imagine?” Again, the tinkling laugh tumbled out of her, and she placed her hand on the Baron’s forearm.
Henry blanched, but tried to keep his displeasure from view. The Baron’s hooked nose was constantly wet, and his greasy slicked-back hair made him look as slippery as his motives. He chortled at Lady Tremaine’s quipping, his eyes slipping to her cleavage none too subtly.
Rory touched her fork to Henry’s knife. “Hey, mister. You look about five seconds from jumping across the table to throttle the Baron.”
“I’ve got a solid ten seconds in me before anything like that happens.” Henry tore his eyes from the odd couple and brushed his shoulder to his best friend’s. She’d always been placed at his table because of their betrothal. Their constant companionship was also due to her father being the Chancellor, which meant he was second only to the king. They’d kept each other company through too many of these dinners over the years, and now they had Cordray to share in their private asides. The dining hall was filled with almost a hundred notable officials, but when they were together, the whole world felt simpler and manageable.
Cordray cut a portion of his steak, a smirk playing on his ebony features. “Imagine if I hadn’t asked you to marry me. You could’ve ended up with the Baron as your father-in-law if you’d given into his son’s offer. Then your new mother-in-law could dress you.”
Rory narrowed her eyes at her husband, keeping her voice down. The table was long and wide, and the chatter around them was loud, so their conversation managed to stay semi-private. “Hilarious. Even if you hadn’t proposed, I never would’ve married Calvin.”
“Now, now. Don’t say that. Calvin could’ve given you a good life, filled with leering, posturing and backstabbing.”
“Every little girl’s dream,” she simpered, reaching over to lace her pale fingers through her husband’s. A few diners nearby caught the scandal and hissed their disapproval. Rory’s chin raised in defiance, her grip on her husband tightening to declare to the elite that her love for Cordray wouldn’t be hidden or shamed to make the meal more palatable for those who felt her love life was their business.
Henry noted with relief that Cordray was wearing black driving gloves. Though Cordray was on the pill to mute his Lethal abilities, it was widely known that the Chancellor’s daughter had been saved from her coma, only to marry a man that might one day accidentally murder her with an errant touch. Everyone was a little wary around Cord who, aside from his deadly Pulse, Henry had no issues with.
As the meal went on, course after course was served to the sound of polite, thinly-veiled political posturing. Henry’s father, the Chancellor, and the Chancellor’s wife were having hushed conversations about the many ramifications of Proposal 7, and what could be done to soften the blow for anyone who fell on the losing side of their vote when the ballots were cast.
Henry usually did his part to be the son of the greatest ruler their kingdom had seen in decades. His great-great-grandfather had been a horror to his people, taxing them beyond reason. His great-grandmother had been dubbed the “Wicked Queen” for going after Snow White, who next took the throne. Then of course, after Queen Snow came Malaura, his aunt, who’d been killed by Cordray upon his escape from her clutches.
Henry sighed as he glanced at his father, wishing his mother were alive to see him handling the throne so regally. Henry knew it was not without much effort or upset, but King Hubert loved his people. Henry only hoped that one day when it was his turn, he would rule with the same level head and generosity of spirit.
He wanted to wolf down his dinner and slip out so he could spend more time with… He still wasn’t sure what her name was, but the woman waiting just outside in his driveway had drawn him in so thoroughly that he barely tasted his dinner.
“Prince Henry, your pictures in Lady Aurora’s wedding were simply adorable,” Lady Tremaine said, leaning forward so she could give the prince a clear shot of her bosom. She was a few seats down and across from them, but lifted her voice so she could be heard by him and several others. “I can’t believe she had you declared her Maid of Honor. You two must have a special bond—to have been betrothed, and then be given up for an outsider.”
Rory stiffened, but her smile remained firmly in place while she chewed. Henry touched his foot to hers, as they often did in solidarity when one of them was challenged. He imagined that when he became king and she was the Chancellor, they would have each other’s backs much the same way.
“Indeed, we do.” Henry donned a light smile, making sure not to glance down at Lady Tremaine’s breasts, as it was clear she wanted him to do every time she leaned forward with a faux-coy smile.
The Baron elbowed his date and pointed with his knife at Cord. “Cordray isn’t just an outsider; he’s a Lethal, as well.”
Henry met the tightening of Cordray’s gaze with a silent warning to breathe through the public needling. This was part of the gig; but losing one’s temper when pushed was not. Cordray’s shoulders remained taut with tension, but the affront smoothed from his face at Henry’s nod of solidarity.
Lady Tremaine feigned surprise with wide eyes a
nd a hand across her chest. “My! You know, I think I did hear something about that. I just assumed it was all rumors. To think that the Chancellor would allow his daughter to take up with someone who could murder her if left unchecked! But then again, perhaps that’s why Chancellor Stefan has held onto his seat for so long when it’s clear retirement should be in the cards. He knows not to pass his power down the bloodline when his daughter’s in such a precarious position.” Then she laughed at the absurdity. “Smookie-poo, could you pass me the gravy? My potatoes are a little dry.”
King Hubert placed his hand on his son’s knee under the table. “Steady, son. Let Stefan handle it.” There was the weighty command to stay in place, since Henry didn’t take kindly to complaints about Rory, Cordray, or the food. Henry was viciously protective of his best friend, and by proxy, Cordray. Carlotta had been his surrogate mother growing up, so a slight on the meal was a slap across her face, as far as he was concerned.
The Chancellor’s tone was light as he placed his napkin on the table. “Forgive me, what is your name, ma’am?”
“Lady Tremaine,” she said with a saccharine smile. She had thin lips that revealed her wide, bubbly gums when she grinned. “I’m so pleased to be eating at the same table as the great Chancellor and the King of Avondale.”
“Pleasure. My daughter was only in danger from Malaura, whom Cordray was instrumental in taking down. We trust our new son with our daughter’s life, and don’t lose a moment of sleep about it.”
Rory’s Uncle Remus, the sharp-dressed Chancellor’s brother, chimed in from his brother’s left. “Cordray is my nephew now. He’s part of the ruling families. Lethal or not, it’s not a person’s Pulse that decides who they are, but what they do with the power they have—whether it be great or very, very small.” Remus said the last few words like a dig, making sure Lady Tremaine knew her sugar-coated slights would not be tolerated. Remus exchanged a look of familial loyalty with Rory, and then with Cordray.
Henry had always loved Remus, and tonight was a perfect reminder why.
The Baron’s smile always looked like a grimace, unless he was gleeful over something terrible happening, in which case the expression came more naturally to him. “Now, now. There’s no need to worry, my sweet. Cordray is on the pill, so he’s no harm to you.” He fawned over Lady Tremaine, touching her face as if he was preening her. Though she was easily four inches taller than him, he acted as if she was a wilting flower, and she played the part of the delicate damsel to appease him. The Baron’s eyes cut to Cord. “Isn’t that right, Cordray? Assure my date that she’s in no danger of being murdered in cold blood by a Lethal. Tell her you’re on the pill, and she has no need to fear you.”
Cord’s jaw was tight. His eyes were on his food, but he opened his mouth to comply with the public needling he found himself subject to at random. “I…”
Remus was quick to cut off Cordray. “I can’t imagine how that’s any of your business. We aren’t asking you about what medications you’re on over your supper. You can see he’s wearing gloves, so of course he’s no danger to anyone here.” Remus ran his hand over his tie, changing it from canary yellow, to pink, and finally settling on blue. It was a subconscious habit he did when he was in deep thought.
Rory put down her fork and glared at the Baron. “My husband is a great man. You’ll do well to remember who defeated Malaura. It’s gratitude you should be giving him, not a subtle inquiry.” She turned her chin to address her uncle. “And you don’t need to ask the Baron what sort of medicine he takes. It’s clear he swallowed an entire bottle of garlic pills before he came here.”
Henry choked on his lambchop, his eyes watering. He took the glass of water Rory offered him and washed his mouthful down, wishing he could jump in on the subtle digs.
The Baron chuckled, as if Rory had said something funny. “Now that you’ve finally found your Pulse, you’ve got something to say. Good for you, Aurora. Tell me, have you learned to levitate a teacup yet?”
King Hubert picked up his fork and tapped it twice to his crystal goblet, clanging it gently to rein everyone in. That was all it took for the table to fall silent. The other tables in the dining hall also ceased their chatter, respecting the king as he stood.
“It seems there’s some confusion over whether or not the pill is mandatory, and whether or not it’s anyone’s business what another person’s Pulse is.” King Hubert didn’t raise his voice, but it carried effortlessly through the room.
The king’s expression was pleasant enough, but there was a firm command in his eyes that warned the world he would not be trifled with. “Let me be perfectly clear: it is not. Just as we don’t expect you to report if you own a knife in your home to protect yourself with, we don’t expect Lethals to register themselves or wear some sort of sign to declare to the public that they should be feared and treated as lepers. The only reason they come to us is for help to make sure their loved ones are safe from errant mishaps, and we are glad to assist.” He looked out at the elite and raised his glass. “We will not have division amongst ourselves over a simple flip of genetics. We will be unified, or we will be nothing.”
Then the king glanced down at Cordray, who sat taller in his chair. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be nothing. I don’t prefer a legacy of simple and petty nothing. To us,” he said, and everyone toasted the king’s words, making them their own.
Henry always loved his father, but that night he was reminded anew of how much he respected the man who saw through the fight of the moment to a brighter outcome for his people. Henry nurtured a deep respect for the relationship between his father and the Chancellor. They didn’t always agree on every single issue, but they found a way to hold tight to their friendship through the years. Henry only hoped he would have the same tight bond with Rory forever, taking on her causes and shielding her when the public threw stones, as they inevitably did.
When King Hubert was about to sit, it was clear Rory decided she couldn’t take it anymore. She rose from her seat and moved past Henry to his father. She wrapped her arms around him, raising up on her toes like a ballerina. “Thank you,” she said to him. “I would have been proud to call you my father-in-law, had that been my destiny.”
“And you are always the daughter I’m most proud of. Cordray is a good man.” King Hubert embraced the girl he’d known from birth, and had hoped would one day marry his own son. Though fate had other plans, he never stopped looking at Rory as the daughter he’d always wanted.
Henry loved his father for that, as well.
When the whispered fawning over the king’s kindness finally died down, Rory moved to her own parents, kissing them both on the cheek, and then to her uncle, whom she high-fived.
Henry caught Cordray’s tight gaze and gave him a nod of brotherhood, which Cord returned. It would be a long time before people accepted Lethals into the community, but Henry was determined that Cord would not be the leper among them. He was the only Lethal in the entire Dinner of the Elite.
Lady Tremaine’s smile was tight and forced, and the Baron’s had vanished completely.
4
Two Henrys in the Car
Henry knew it was foolish to try and sneak back out to see Lady Tremaine’s driver again, but he found he couldn’t help himself. Cocktail hour was for mingling, with everyone milling about while a string quartet played in the background. It was usually the point in the evening where he, Rory, and now Cordray, too, would sneak out and play poker in the kitchen while Carlotta made them root beer floats, like she’d done when he, Rory and Adam were children.
Henry thanked his lucky stars that Rory seemed to want to introduce as many people as possible to Cord, integrating him into her world, so they wouldn’t be so very afraid of him. The prince slipped away to the kitchen, grabbed a carton of strawberries, a banana and a tin of yogurt, and shoved it all in a bag. He wondered if he should bring her more, or if he was already looking a little desperate.
If he was being hon
est with himself, he was feeling a longing for something real. He didn’t know if he would find it waiting out in his driveway, but something inside begged him to try.
He walked through the twilight towards the oldest car in the long line, running his free hand through his hair before he rapped his knuckles on the cracked window, startling her.
She grabbed a fistful of her shirt over her heart, her eyes bouncing toward the ceiling before shooting him a look of mild scolding. “You scared me!”
“Yeah? Well, you intrigued me. It’s your own fault I’m back out here when I could be in there, eating my way through a croquembouche.”
Her lips pursed before they broke out into a smile. She rolled her window down halfway, her big blue eyes soaking him in. “You are ridiculous. And you’re going to get me into trouble.”
“What trouble? Are you supposed to stay inside the car all evening? Were those your specific instructions?”
“I’m supposed to stay out of sight.”
Henry leaned his forearm on the window, his expression growing serious. “Okay, level with me. Are you a spy?”
She paused, and then laughed airily through her nose. She unlocked the doors and motioned for him to come around to the other side. “Get in. Then I’m not breaking the rules.”
Henry kept his head down as he walked to the passenger’s side and slipped in. “For you. The prettiest Henry I’ve ever seen. Except for the one who greets me with a kiss in the mirror every morning. He’s ravishing.”
“Indeed. What is it?” She opened the bag and gasped. “For me?” The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. He could see her tender expression as she looked over the contents with gratitude that surpassed her pride. “Thank you, Prince Henry.”
He cut the flat of his hand in the air between them. “Just Henry. If you get to pick your name, then I get to choose mine. It’s only fair.”
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