Page 69 of Henrikk’s Secret

Yes. Nathaniel would be the one to vanquish him, and free the world of his and Dargotika’s tyranny, once and for all. It would leave Nathaniel cursed for harming a blood relation, condemned for all eternity…

But like father, like son.

And Henrikk would lead by example.

He would teach Nathaniel to play the game, until he found a way to do what Asher could not: Kill him.

Henrikk settled back in his throne, stroking his chin.

What would it take to make his own son grow to hate him enough to kill him?

The answer dawned on Henrikk almost immediately, and he erupted into laughter, the depraved sound filling the empty hall.

Love. The answer was love. That could drive a person to do anything.

Anything.

And so, it was decided. He would bide his time. He would wait for Nathaniel's true love to materialise in his life and bewitch him. And once his son had fallen hopelessly in love, and could no longer imagine life without the touch of her warm, gentle hand and the soft press of her lips…

Henrikk would swoop in and crush her.

And Nathaniel would turn on him in his agony.

With that tantalising thought, Henrikk’s entire body relaxed.

He only hoped Nathaniel would be worthy of the task.

His bliss did not last.

Henrikk let out a long, wistful sigh as he stared at the spot on the dais where Asher had once stood. He stared and stared until his eyes watered, willing him to appear. Willing him to be alive. He blinked and looked away.

A crushing wave of loneliness engulfed him, and he was dragged deep into the abyss of despair.

Questions assaulted his mind.

Was the dragon alive? Or had she perished?

The thought that Dargotika was gone terrified him. Who, then, was responsible for the dark urges that drove him?

Is it me?

Fighting this inner battle…wading through the turmoil… It was endlessly taxing. His memories of Asher were tainted, and he no longer knew what was real.

Had Asher ever loved him?

He remembered back to the memory of them swimming at the pond. Asher had smiled at him, hadn’t he?

Or hadn’t he?

Henrikk did not know, and he was growing so tired of trying to remember, and of nursing the sadness in his heart.

He tipped his head back against the padded backrest and shut his eyes, picturing the sweet release of death that awaited him.

Henrikk filled his lungs with a final, deep breath, the last breath he would ever take as the man Asher had loved. As he released it, all the tension in his body faded, and he slowly let himself sink beneath the depths of the dragon’s control—or whatever the darkness residing in him was.