A Savior's Worth (Book #3)

Chapter Forty-Two

Everyone was in perfect spirits. Naturally.

As Henry dragged himself away from the children who'd been on his tail all evening, he realized he couldn't relate. He accidentally bumped shoulders with a young woman, and she apologized first. Then she glanced up at him, her pale blue eyes beaming.

"Oh my," she exhaled, her cheeks taking on a tint of red. "Yer a gorgeous one." Henry looked away as she giggled and touched his arm.

"Yer one of 'em knights that came with Eldon, right?"

"Yes," he answered without missing a beat.

"You best make sure you never get that pretty face hurt." When he looked at her again, she winked.

He squinted, unsure if he even wanted to give her the pleasure of responding.

She shook her cup, and the dark red liquid inside spilled. Then she giggled again, and he realized how horribly inebriated she was. Henry's gaze flickered to the tankard. She held it up to him, offering him a taste. He pursed his lips, almost considering it. He'd limited himself now to merely having wine during meals.

You haven't forgotten what happened last time, have you? And because of that, you promised Ivy never again.

"It's real good," the woman assured him before sipping it herself. "Gots lots of sweetness that'll"—Henry snatched it from her and threw his head back as he downed it.

Ah, she'd been right. It tasted sweet like strawberries with strong, lovely hints of alcohol.

He blinked hard and handed the empty cup back to her. "Thank you," he murmured, already walking away, and reaching for a second drink off the table nearby.

---
He snuggled closer to the tree, hauling his arm around the front. Were his limbs always this heavy? He'd never noticed before how much he needed to drag them.

Everything about him felt sweltering, though, giving him even less energy to move. His clothes clung against his skin, and his hair curled at the ends.

Henry shut his eyes and whined when everyone's laughter grew louder. They weren't allowing him to sleep.

"Henry?" a husky yet soothing voice called to him. He thought he responded, but he wasn't certain after a moment. Perhaps it'd been a grunt or... or something along those lines. He simply wasn't sure.

Then he heard fingers being snapped in front of his face, and he fluttered his eyes open. His obscured vision showed him blurry images of people moving about, floating in and out of themselves while a single person stood in front of him. Their features were far from recognizable.

And he suddenly felt sick.

Henry grabbed onto the tree, forcing himself up and onto his feet. Everything swayed around him, and he stumbled probably a few inches away before he bent over and heaved. As his stomach emptied out, he felt it clenching. Then his throat burned.

The person neared him and patted his back. "There, there. Just let everythin' out."

And he did—all while making the most wretched sounds that he believed belonged to a dying boar.

Afterward, he couldn't move or stand upright. He raised his hand and clumsily wiped his mouth and nose with the back of it. The person touched his shoulders and kneeled beside him. He wondered how they were not repulsed by him.

"You finished?" Finally, with his senses slowly returning, that voice sounded familiar.

Henry turned his head slowly and was met with Leanne's critical gaze. She helped him straighten up and brushed away his hair from his forehead. He didn't miss how she wiped her hand down on her dress and wrinkled her nose.

Henry stumbled backwards a bit, baffled as to why he was there and where he'd last been. His brain felt like mush, though he couldn't quite figure how he knew that. He tapped his head with the heel of his palm, and Leanne snatched his wrist, lowering his arm to his side.

"What the hell do ya think yer doin'?" she demanded, and he furrowed his eyebrows. He couldn't fathom the reason for her presumed anger toward him, but he bowed his head and pouted, ashamed for putting her in such a dour mood.

Leanne then sighed and loosened her grip on him. "C'mon, Henry. Maybe you just gotta walk it off a bit and get some fresher air away from these people." She tugged him gently, and he followed her, unsure he had any other choice.

She led him to the bridge. He remembered being there with Elouise this morning.

Elouise! Where was she?

Henry glanced around, searching the crowd for signs of her or Eldon. His friends weren't anywhere. Had they left him?

They were halfway across the short bridge when the moon's reflection on the water caught his interest. He pulled his wrist free and turned toward the water, his head tilting.

"What is it?" Leanne questioned him.

Henry inched closer and peered over the edge. He could just barely make out his own appearance. Regardless, it had him grimacing until a thought managed to cross his mind.

"How deep is that?" he asked.

"You don't gotta shout."

"I was not shouting! Was I shouting?"

Leanne chuckled. "Ya still are. But to answer yer question, it ain't deep at all. Probably reaches your knees."

"Oh." He turned to her. "I cannot swim!"

"Really?" she folded her arms across her chest and squinted at him.

"Yes. I almost drowned when I was with Eldon."

Leanne's eyes went wide along with her mouth slowly falling open. "Wait, what? What're you talkin' 'bout? When did that happen? And where?"

"A long time ago," he nonchalantly answered, diverting his attention to the water. "It was quite painful. I was fighting it for a while, and I am not certain why." Again, he looked at Leanne and cocked his head. "Are you afraid of death?"

Leanne blinked and shrugged. "I... I dunno. I never thought 'bout it."

"I don't believe I am." Henry moved closer to her and nearly tripped over his own feet. She held him still, and he grinned at her. "I have thought about it. I am afraid of the pain, I think, but... but not of actual death."

"A'right, Henry"—Leanne grabbed his hand—"you gotta sit down." She sat herself first and attempted to pull him down with her. Although he thought he was successfully resisting, he plopped down next to her anyway.

"How much did ya have to drink?" she asked him, her tone soft.

"I did not have much," he promised. "I've done worse, but I controlled myself."

"You seemed real upset this morning. Is everythin' a'right?"

Henry frowned. Oh, when Eldon walked in and saw—

"I have scars covering my body," the words poured out of his mouth faster than his insides had a moment ago.

Leanne lifted her eyebrows. "You... you do?"

"They were accidents!"

Then her features relaxed, and she nodded. "Right, yeah. I actually got a lot, too."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Huntin' ain't an easy job. That's why my pa hates that I do it." She chuckled lightheartedly, and he smiled at her. But then she gestured to him and asked him how he got his.

Henry gaped at her. "They were accidents!"

"Yeah, you said that"—Leanne waved him off. "Forget it. I dunno why I'm even askin' you when yer like this." She faced forward, and he heard her mumble, "I can't wait to question you tomorrow 'bout almost drownin' with Eldon."

His drowsiness returned, so he lied back and threw his arm over his face. Leanne continued talking. Perhaps she didn't want him falling asleep there. Unfortunately, he didn't care, and he allowed himself to drift off before she could stop him.