Chapter 39 #3
“No,” Henrik told Yeshar, advancing toward us.
“Is crazy contagious?” Yeshar gave me a displeased glance before focusing his disgust back on Henrik. “I’ve already afforded you one extension. You’ll be as dead as she is if you don’t pay me back in full before the next Mistrun. Her life isn’t worth yours, and the total sum of your debt!”
Henrik took measured steps toward us, fog cloaking him like a cape. “No,” he repeated, determination evident in every step.
“Run,” I said. “He’ll kill you too.”
“He won’t,” Henrik said with conviction. “If I could hear your screaming, others did too. They won’t be far behind, and that’s too many witnesses.” He angled himself so his forearm was hidden behind his body, visible only to me, shifting his arm. The Acumen Skinscript stood out against his skin.
He was bluffing.
For the first time, fear entered Yeshar’s expression.
Sweat and blood made my knife impossible to hang onto.
My grip slipped.
A warm hand grabbed mine, holding me inches above swirling death below. I clung to Henrik’s hand, tense with fear.
He tugged me up, bracing me when I wobbled onto my knees.
I heaved for breath, cradling my injured hand.
“You’re both insane.” Yeshar shook his head as if to clear it, tapping a beat against his arm. Then, he turned and fled into the fog.
“Come on,” Henrik pulled me back down toward the shoreline when he saw my crooked fingers, raised foot, half-melted boot, and how I hunched over my ribs. “Georlan isn’t far.”
He half-carried me as I swiped at my eyes with my elbow. My memory of the ripping pain from the Restoration was overshadowed by a torturous mental replay of what had just happened.
Yeshar had tried to kill me, and almost succeeded. Even after Georlan healed me, the mottled welt of miasma burn remained on the side of my ankle, a permanent memento. The effort of Restoring me had left Georlan barely-standing.
Henrik stayed by my side.
When I was healed, and when we went to find Brialla and report Yeshar for attempting murder.
When we returned to the Arc, and had to cross the gangplank above the miasma, and I had a panic attack.
Until Yeshar was apprehended and escorted down to the brig by three other Voyagers.
All the way back to the door of my cabin. Henrik didn’t leave.
“I barely heard you call for help back at the beach,” he admitted, scratching his stubble awkwardly. “If I hadn’t gone searching and seen your boot prints in the sand... I’m just glad I followed them.”
“Me too,” I hugged myself.
He shuffled in front of me. “It’s my fault,” he said at last, guilt twisting his features. “He thought you’d stolen his contact list.”
I shook my head. “Henrik–”
“No. Let me say this.” He drew in a deep breath. “I’m an asshole, but you’ve never done me wrong. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. It was just an impulsive decision to give you the box to try to get Yeshar off my trail, but that doesn’t–”
“This wasn’t about his contact list,” I interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “He already knew it was in my room before today.” I paused. “I meant to ask you before, but things were…heated when we last spoke. Why didn’t you ask for the box back after Orin was expelled?”
Henrik shuffled his feet. “Yeshar sent me a pretty clear message before the end of the midterm.”
A memory surfaced of Henrik on a cot, covered in bandaged injuries after the midterm.
“He wanted his gold back, and I didn’t have nearly enough.
And I didn’t have my collateral, or my leverage.
And I realized that if he found out about the contact list I’d stolen, he’d do worse than just beat me.
I thought he had no reason to suspect you had it.
If I took it back and he found it in my room, he’d have had an excuse to finish the job. ”
“In hindsight, it was dumb,” he said, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor. “I really didn’t think he’d ever find it in your room. But he did.”
I processed the new information. He’d known my life would be in danger if Yeshar found the box, but he didn’t have any way to know Yeshar would discover it in my room. But he hadn’t trusted me with any of his knowledge.
Saving my life was his attempt to earn forgiveness.
I wasn’t sure if I would have done what he did.
He was trying to reassemble the broken pieces of our friendship without any adhesive, and the trust issues between us lingered and the pieces kept separating.
“I can’t forgive you. Not yet. But I want to,” I said at last.
Henrik wore a torn expression. After a few seconds, he nodded.
“For now, Yeshar’s locked up,” I continued. “We’re beyond his reach.”
The words rang hollow. The Ascendancy would decide whether Yeshar continued to serve as a Voyager, went back to the Reformatory, or was returned to the Devourer. We had as much say in the matter as the breeze. And Yeshar still had a network of associates who he could send to kill us at any time.
Denial was more comforting than unbearable truth, though.
And deep down, I wanted to believe it.