Henry didn't bother to speak, to ask her if she was ready. No. he wanted to feel the whip in his hand, the arc of the lead as it sliced the air and the thump as it hit the canvas of her back. It felt good, and he gasped at the sight of the blood.
Still on the ground, Edward shifted, turning to watch the show, the display. He felt a little proud, at what felt like Henry's coming of age.