decide if he should call her or go home when Regina opened the back door.
He meant to tell her
no
and leave, but found himself moving toward the door, into the same kitchen where Viv had told him about her prince. A moth fluttered in after him and flew up to hover around the light above the sink. The rest of the kitchen was dark. The scent of jasmine blew in through the screens, and Henley could hear bats in the garden. He should have known Viv was gone—none of the bats had flown intoher bedroom. They were always getting tangled up in her curtains when she was there.
“I’d offer to make coffee, but we don’t have any,” Regina said. “Vodka?”
He shook his head. “No thanks.”
“That’s right. You’re health-conscious—except for that smoking habit.”
“I’m not. If I cared about my health, I wouldn’t be with Viv.”
Regina laughed. “I’d always assumed you were because you take care of your body. But I guess you could have a different reason for doing that.”
“It’s just something to do.” He shrugged, embarrassed to tell her the truth. He worked out when he was stressed, and because it had become a habit after years of doing it. But he had started because he wanted to be ready to protect Viv. So that no matter how big or tough her Huntsman was, he’d be able to stop him.
Oh, the irony
, his friend Jack Tran would say.
“Sit down,” Regina said. “You don’t have to worry about Viv finding you here. She’ll be gone all night.”
Henley’s eyes burned like someone had blown sand into them. “She went. She went, anyway.”
Before they’d separated after spending the day at Jewel’s, he’d held her close and whispered,
Don’t go
. And she’d hugged him the way she did when she was sorry about something. He’d thought that had meant
okay
.
“You asked her not to?”
He nodded, not sure why he was confiding in Regina. Maybe because his mother would say
Forget her, you cando better
. His father would shrug and say
This is the way it works
.
Regina would offer a solution. It would be a solution he didn’t like … but at least she would act like there was something he could do.
“And you’re surprised?” she asked. “Or hurt?”
He didn’t answer. He lit a cigarette and busied himself with smoking instead.
Regina reached for the pack he’d left on the table, and drew one out with her bloodred nails. She rolled it between her fingers.
“When I was your age, I thought I was a Snow White princess. I used to long for my prince to come the way a martyr longs for sacrifice. I was willing to suffer for it if I had to. Because I wanted to matter. And a princess always matters—especially if she suffers. That’s not the case for all of us.
“I’m sure you can relate. You wanted to be her hero. You wanted to be something you were never meant to be. Cruel, cruel fate.” She leaned her head on her hands. Smiled like they were in this together. “Do you mind if I get that vodka?”
“No, go ahead.”
She moved through the kitchen like a boat rocking on water, hips swaying like a pendulum.
“The thing about this curse … is that it makes us not matter. We revolve around the princess. We play a role and then send her to her happily ever after. If she lives, I’ll die. The queen always dies unless she wins. And you … your heart will be broken. Viv and her prince will send you a Christmas card every year to be nice:
Here’s how we’re doing. Look how big our kids are getting. Aren’t they cute?
And you’ll wonder,
What thehell did I do wrong? Why did she pick that idiot over me?
I know because I’ve been there. I get those cards. It sucks.”
Henley closed his eyes and tried to picture the family photo Viv might send him in ten years. Smug prince in a reindeer sweater. Two prissy kids and a golden retriever. Viv sitting off to the side, her face retouched to give her a smile. It seemed impossible that she could be with someone else. Build a life with
He meant to tell her
no
and leave, but found himself moving toward the door, into the same kitchen where Viv had told him about her prince. A moth fluttered in after him and flew up to hover around the light above the sink. The rest of the kitchen was dark. The scent of jasmine blew in through the screens, and Henley could hear bats in the garden. He should have known Viv was gone—none of the bats had flown intoher bedroom. They were always getting tangled up in her curtains when she was there.
“I’d offer to make coffee, but we don’t have any,” Regina said. “Vodka?”
He shook his head. “No thanks.”
“That’s right. You’re health-conscious—except for that smoking habit.”
“I’m not. If I cared about my health, I wouldn’t be with Viv.”
Regina laughed. “I’d always assumed you were because you take care of your body. But I guess you could have a different reason for doing that.”
“It’s just something to do.” He shrugged, embarrassed to tell her the truth. He worked out when he was stressed, and because it had become a habit after years of doing it. But he had started because he wanted to be ready to protect Viv. So that no matter how big or tough her Huntsman was, he’d be able to stop him.
Oh, the irony
, his friend Jack Tran would say.
“Sit down,” Regina said. “You don’t have to worry about Viv finding you here. She’ll be gone all night.”
Henley’s eyes burned like someone had blown sand into them. “She went. She went, anyway.”
Before they’d separated after spending the day at Jewel’s, he’d held her close and whispered,
Don’t go
. And she’d hugged him the way she did when she was sorry about something. He’d thought that had meant
okay
.
“You asked her not to?”
He nodded, not sure why he was confiding in Regina. Maybe because his mother would say
Forget her, you cando better
. His father would shrug and say
This is the way it works
.
Regina would offer a solution. It would be a solution he didn’t like … but at least she would act like there was something he could do.
“And you’re surprised?” she asked. “Or hurt?”
He didn’t answer. He lit a cigarette and busied himself with smoking instead.
Regina reached for the pack he’d left on the table, and drew one out with her bloodred nails. She rolled it between her fingers.
“When I was your age, I thought I was a Snow White princess. I used to long for my prince to come the way a martyr longs for sacrifice. I was willing to suffer for it if I had to. Because I wanted to matter. And a princess always matters—especially if she suffers. That’s not the case for all of us.
“I’m sure you can relate. You wanted to be her hero. You wanted to be something you were never meant to be. Cruel, cruel fate.” She leaned her head on her hands. Smiled like they were in this together. “Do you mind if I get that vodka?”
“No, go ahead.”
She moved through the kitchen like a boat rocking on water, hips swaying like a pendulum.
“The thing about this curse … is that it makes us not matter. We revolve around the princess. We play a role and then send her to her happily ever after. If she lives, I’ll die. The queen always dies unless she wins. And you … your heart will be broken. Viv and her prince will send you a Christmas card every year to be nice:
Here’s how we’re doing. Look how big our kids are getting. Aren’t they cute?
And you’ll wonder,
What thehell did I do wrong? Why did she pick that idiot over me?
I know because I’ve been there. I get those cards. It sucks.”
Henley closed his eyes and tried to picture the family photo Viv might send him in ten years. Smug prince in a reindeer sweater. Two prissy kids and a golden retriever. Viv sitting off to the side, her face retouched to give her a smile. It seemed impossible that she could be with someone else. Build a life with
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