by Zoe Chant
Henrik sighed inside. He was good at fighting with a sword, but his shieldmates were considerably better and he felt worse about looking bad in front of Gwen than he did about fighting her directly. Not that he was going to admit that.
He caught the tail of a glance from Gwen as she came to stand beside him, adjusting her distance from him carefully.
Daniella, standing at the perimeter of the room, began to hum.
Henrik, suddenly hopeful, closed his eyes and cast about for the threads of power he’d always been able to draw upon and control.
It was like standing in a river in the rain, looking for a pair of dry socks.
Then Henrik heard the tell-tale rustle of Trey lifting his blade and he opened his eyes and thrust forward with his sword.
Trey easily deflected the hasty attack, but by then Gwen was already at Henrik’s side, her steel flashing, and Trey had to retreat.
The fight itself was exhilarating; if fighting against Gwen had been enjoyable, it was nothing to having her at his side. She was a talented swordswoman, dextrous and swift, and they quickly established a rhythm of fight and parry. The two of them were more than a match for Trey, and Henrik smiled as they made him dance back faster each time.
Then he seemed to swell in power, and Henrik realized that the song he was hearing was not merely in his head. Daniella was singing, and Trey was moving faster, his blows stronger.
Magic.
The tide turned swiftly, and no matter how hard Henrik tried to scrabble for his own power, it would simply not obey his command. A ward, a burst of energy, a quick portal to let them jolt to an unprotected flank...nothing that he willed came to pass, and their surrender came quickly.
He and Gwen stood, defeated, and he was keenly aware of their failure.
6
Gwen was pretty sure that nothing in the world was worse than failing so spectacularly as a key.
Henrik looked absolutely miserable, and Gwen’s heart broke for him. It wasn’t his fault. Maybe there was something wrong with her. “Well, that was embarrassing,” she said loudly and jovially into the uncomfortable garage. It didn’t do as much to lighten the mood as she’d hoped.
“Oh, gosh, no, you guys were great,” Heather said quickly. “I’ve watched a lot of combat, at the Renaissance festival, and you were a great duo. I mean, really in sync.”
Daniella was nodding entirely too enthusiastically. “Yeah, it was great. I mean, you looked really natural together.”
“No magic, though,” Robin said, and theirs were the words that meant the most. Gwen stared at them, trying to read their inscrutable expression.
“I could sense it, barely, a few times,” Henrik said. “But could not command it.”
“It was a worthy battle,” Trey said, hanging his sword with the others. He looked vaguely guilty, and just a little bit pleased with himself.
Gwen hung her own sword beneath his, and Henrik brought his sword to put away. There was a weird moment when they just sort of looked at each other before Gwen realized that she was standing in his way.
“Well,” she said too loudly as she scooted aside. “What Earth wonders shall we show you next?” What she really wanted to show him was an inappropriate topic for the company.
“Television,” Trey suggested. “I particularly like the moving art called cartoons.”
“Cars,” Rez countered. “We should tour the town of Wimberlette!”
“I’m not sure that he’s ready for a spin out in public,” Heather said reluctantly. “We should coach him a lot more before we take him anywhere.”
“We do not have to exit the car,” Rez said hopefully.
“You want to drive around with your head hanging out like Fabio?” Heather teased him.
“You know what you guys could really stand to show him?” Daniella said, wrinkling her nose as Trey came to give her a kiss. “A shower.”
And everyone looked at Gwen again and she probably looked like a stunned fish because she was picturing Henrik in a shower and the rest of her brain was simply gone.
They had worked up a sweat during their sparring, and Gwen was abruptly aware that she was damp with perspiration, and she probably didn’t smell much better than Trey or Henrik.
Not that Henrik smelled bad, exactly. Just...musky. Delicious, really. Exciting.
Gwen bit her lip so she had something do with her mouth that didn’t involve licking him. “Okay, so one of you can do that, I need a shower of my own. Myself. By myself.” She looked anywhere but at Henrik as she stalked to the door into the house.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to show Henrik the shower, and possibly even share it with him. But she’d just completely failed at basically the only thing a key did. If this was her destiny, why hadn’t it worked? And why did Robin look so...hesitant?
She managed to forget about the dogs who’d been jailed in the house to prevent them from trying to join the sparring. She had to reach down and awkwardly catch Vesta by the collar, kneeing Fabio back as both canines tried desperately to escape from the house. Flushed and flustered, she squeezed herself through the door, shutting it behind her, and didn’t glance back as she fled for the stairs.
Ansel’s sprawling house had two full bathrooms downstairs, and three upstairs, one in the master suite that Ansel lived in, one in the second master bedroom that Heather and Rez lived in, and one in the middle of the house that the remaining three guest upstairs bedrooms shared. Daniella and Trey lived downstairs in the suite past the gaming room.
Gwen made it to the upstairs bathroom that she realized quite belatedly she was going to be sharing with Henrik. She undressed in her room and wrapped herself in her robe, tying it rather more tightly than she usually did, then crept across the hall. She checked to see that the door was locked twice before hopping into the shower.
She hurried through her bathing, trying not to linger over the memory of nude Henrik that was burned into her eyeballs. She turned down the water until it was almost chilly, trying to cool the irrational need that seemed to be burning into her. It wasn’t just that Henrik was a Sports Illustrated-worthy chunk of muscle and curls; more than anything else, she wanted to simply fold herself into his arms, bury her fingers into his golden hair, and comfort him.
It took her much longer to tear herself out of the shower than she intended, and she cracked the door to the bathroom open feeling like a thief.
She could just hear the buzz of conversation from downstairs. The door to Rez and Heather’s room was wide open and Vesta was grooming herself noisily on their bed. Gwen crept out into the hall, clutching her bathrobe around her.
“Lady Gwen?”
Henrik’s door was open just far enough that Gwen could tell that Henrik had already been introduced to the miracle of indoor plumbing; he was wearing nothing but a towel and his hair was wet over his bare shoulders.
Gwen said something between a polite “Yes?” and a casual “What’s up?” that managed to come out “Yulp?” Maybe he’d just think it was a thing that people of Earth regularly said, not her being incapable of simple words.
Henrik looked at her quizzically. “Pardon, but I cannot fathom how to get the undergarments from this package.” He was holding a plastic-wrapped assortment of briefs.
“Undergarments,” Gwen squeaked. “Yes, those are undergarments.” She gave her bathrobe tie another tug, in case it was having the same thoughts that she was about yanking it off and throwing herself at Henrik. “Ah, you just have to tear open the plastic.”
He turned it in his hands curiously. “You...tear it?” His other hand was busy holding onto his towel, and he couldn’t seem to work out how to open it.
Gwen didn’t want him to drop his towel, so she offered, “I could…”
Henrik handed her the package and watched in awe as she ripped it open.
“Is it damaged?” he asked in horror.
“The plastic? Oh, no, I mean it is, but we just throw it away. It’s just...packaging.”
/> “Packaging,” Henrik agreed. He reached with the one hand to take the rolled up briefs back.
Unfortunately, Gwen had been a little too enthusiastic in opening the package, and when he took it, the plastic split and the rolls of underwear made a break for freedom, tumbling to the ground one after the other as he tried in vain to catch them. The towel was abandoned, to Gwen’s chagrin, but clung to his hips anyway. She scrambled to help him catch the escaping clothing, and they nearly collided heads as they both bent to gather them up.
“Sorry!” she squeaked, squeezing the gray and blue briefs she’d managed to collect.
“I apologize!” he said, looking equally flustered.
“Here,” Gwen said frantically, piling the unrolling underwear into his arms and turning to flee before the magic holding his towel at his hips failed. She pulled her bathrobe tie so tight that it cut into her waist, entirely too aware that she was wearing nothing beneath it.
“Thank you!” Henrik called after her.
Gwen tried to say “You’re welcome” or “No problem,” and it came out, “Your problem!”
She didn’t correct herself, only scurried for her room and leaned against the shut door.
Socks was sleeping on her bed and Gwen risked being scratched to pick her up and cuddle her close.
The cat didn’t struggle, only gave a sour “Mrrrwooow.” When Gwen released her, she made a great show of cleaning herself in disgust.
Gwen got dressed and braved the hallway again. Henrik had mastered his undergarments faster than she had, and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or dismayed to realize that she already recognized his laugh from downstairs. Ansel had started frozen pizzas, and the air was beginning to smell like cheese and greasy meat.
She could do this. She could face them all. She sat down on the top step, where she could hear their voices and not be seen, and tried to gather her thoughts.
Destiny had seemed so simple when Robin first found her. She wanted desperately to believe that there was some purpose for her life, and a perfect guy that she would be perfect for. Henrik was certainly absolutely nothing less than that perfect guy. He was big and surprisingly gentle and polite and smart and athletic and he moved like a lion and there was something about his slow smile that made Gwen weak in the knees.
But if this was destiny, why hadn’t she been able to help him reach the magic, the way that Daniella and Heather had with their knights? They hadn’t understood what was happening, so they understandably had a few rough starts, but she knew exactly how it was supposed to work...and it didn’t. She remembered Robin’s expression, puzzled and...doubtful. Was there some uncertainty that she was the key? The chemistry was definitely there, but what if the magic wasn’t?
What if Robin had been wrong about her?
It would be just like the rest of her life, where she was supposed to be brilliant and successful and instead, she was just a barista with a bunch of second place trophies.
Gwen breathed deep and tried to calm herself. To her surprise and confusion, when she cast her thoughts to something that brought her peace, it was Henrik that she pictured first. The big, solid bulk of him seemed like the safest possible place in the world, even when everything around him made her doubt herself.
Gwen stomped down the stairs so it wouldn’t seem like she was sneaking, and they all still looked up at her in surprise.
“Hey, people,” she said, too jovially. “Smells good. Better than before, anyway. Now that we’ve showered.” She was such an idiot.
“We’re giving Henrik the CliffsNotes version of world history while the pizzas bake,” Heather said. Vesta was in Rez’s arms being lovingly scratched. Every so often he would pause and Vesta would whine and wiggle pleadingly.
Gwen told herself that was more needy than she wanted in a pet and she didn’t really wish that Socks was more cuddly. She perched on the arm of the couch, ignoring the space that they’d unsubtly left for her beside Henrik.
The version of history that Henrik was getting was less ‘CliffsNotes’ and more ‘spaghetti,’ frequently stirred by questions like, “What are dinosaurs?” and “Wait, who was the poet shaker of spears?”
Gwen found herself forgetting her own self-consciousness. She’d been worried that Henrik would change the dynamic of the close friendship that had grown up around the rest of them, that she would be too wound up to be a good conversationalist. But everyone seemed relieved and happy to include him, with all the affection of family.
Then the timer went off and Ansel started taking the pizzas out of the oven.
They all talked about food over the meal, Robin perched like a king on a dais in their doll’s chair and miniature table eating a slice nearly as big as they were.
Henrik acknowledged that pizza was a very fine meal indeed, and reminisced with his shieldmates about various feasts that they had shared in the past. They regaled him with descriptions of the foods that they had found here.
“Noodles,” Trey said with excitement. “A boggling variety of shapes and textures and sauces.”
“Wait until you try marshmallows,” Rez said eagerly. “But they really must be toasted.”
“Tadra…” Henrik said after a time. “You have not been able to find her ornament?”
Everyone was silent, and Trey slung an arm comfortingly over his shoulders. “We will.”
“I plan to dowse for her and for her key soon,” Robin said soothingly. “I have recovered a great deal since I last tried.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Gwen thought that Henrik looked alarmed at that statement, but he said nothing.
“I should like to assist you,” Henrik said.
Gwen stuffed her last bite of pizza crust into her mouth, feeling everyone’s attention prickle at her. He’d be able to assist if she could figure out how to be his key. Gwen set her jaw. Too much depended on this working.
“We’ll practice tomorrow,” she promised desperately. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
That required an explanation of what Rome was, something that Trey and Rez were both also interested in knowing. Gwen’s knowledge was superficial, but Heather proved to be a good source of historical trivia, and she made a little map on the table top with geography marked in napkins and utensils around Robin’s throne.
After dinner, they all cleaned up. Henrik gathered the napkins.
Gwen wrapped up the leftovers in tinfoil and was standing up from tucking them into the fridge when he made a noise of dismay.
“I fear I have destroyed your napkins!” he said sheepishly, holding up a soaked and disintegrating napkin.
“Did you wash them?” Daniella asked in shock.
Gwen realized that the sound she had assumed was the knight washing his hands had been his attempt to launder the paper napkins they’d used in the sink.
Everyone in the kitchen began to chortle. It wasn’t unkind laughter, but Henrik looked so dismayed holding his withered napkin that Gwen couldn’t join them.
“It’s okay,” she said quickly, when everyone else seemed to be laughing too hard to actually explain. “Don’t worry about it. It’s like the plastic packaging. We only use it once and then throw it away. Here’s where we put the trash, under the sink, behind this door.”
Henrik looked at her gratefully and wadded the remaining napkins into a wet mass to drop into the trashcan while Trey howled and pounded him on the shoulders.
“It seems a waste,” Henrik said sheepishly, ignoring his shieldmate’s mirth.
“It is kind of wasteful,” Gwen solemnly agreed. “For all of our technological wonders, this is not a perfect world.”
They all watched television together for a while in the media room, settling on a cartoon sitcom. It required a great deal of explanation, particularly the advertisements. Gwen, who’d been maneuvered into sitting next to Henrik, was uncomfortably aware of how confused he was, and how hard he was trying. She did her best to clarify what was happening.
At the very earlies
t she could manage, she stood up and announced, “Well, that was fun, I’m going to turn in now. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”
All of the knights stood up respectfully as she did, a habit that Daniella and Heather had been unsuccessful at breaking in Trey and Rez.
Daniella made a show of yawning and stretching. “Oh, I think turning in early is a great idea. I’m terribly tired after all this excitement…”
“That is disappointing,” Trey moped. Then he caught Daniella’s eye roll and grinned broadly. “I mean, yes, so exhausted! We should retire at once!”
Rez helped Heather to her feet and kissed her hand. “I think my shieldmate has an excellent idea.”
“Subtle, you guys, really subtle,” Gwen grumbled under her breath. If anyone heard her, they didn’t respond. “C’mon Henrik, I’ll show you how blankets work.”
“I am familiar with blankets,” Henrik protested, but he followed her, pausing only to share a brief embrace with each of his shieldmates and gravely shake their keys’ hands.
“This is your room,” Gwen said, after she led him up the stairs and down the hall. “Mine is...next door.” At that far end of the hall, Heather and Rez closed their door on the sound of giggles.
She took him on a brief safety tour of the room. “Those are electrical outlets. Do not stick anything in them, including yourself.”
Henrik looked at his fingers as if he was trying to figure out a way to even make that work.
She showed him the light switches, now that it was dark enough to need them, and he flicked them on and off until she had to say, “That’s not really good for them. Turn them off when you’re done.”
“Yes, lady,” Henrik said humbly.
“I don’t know what you sleep in. Whatever you want,” Gwen said, immediately recognizing conversation territory that she didn’t really want to be in. Her whole body was desperately reminding her that she was in a room with a bed. A bed and the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on in her life. “A shirt, or whatever. There’s extra blankets in the closet if you’re cold. And you know where the bathroom is. If you need to...ah. I have a cat, and if you don’t want her in here while you sleep, keep your door closed, she’s kind of pushy. Her name is Socks. Very independent. You’ll meet her when she’s ready to meet you.”