A Guardian's Fate (Book #2)

Chapter Forty-Five

After the conversation with Eldon and Ivy in the garden, Henry wanted to seek out Haven again. However, he knew the chances of finding her were slim. His best option was to leave a note with the bartender at the tavern and pray she would soon return to receive it.

He wrote down instructions to meet him at Udolf's manor and sneak into his room. He would leave a burning candle near the window for her to know which one. Instead of signing the note, he figured folding it into an origami heart would tell her exactly who it was from.

At the tavern, Henry asked the bartender if he knew Haven. Much to Henry's relief, the man informed him that Haven was a regular and would most likely to come in later that night. Henry left the note with him and returned to the manor in time for dinner.

He hadn't been hungry, though. He couldn't be when his thoughts were plagued with too many questions. What if Haven had been the one to tell Udolf about the attack?

But... why? Did the attackers work with Udolf? Henry knew Elouise didn't want to believe that, and he didn't want to, either.

So, Haven worked with them as well? He'd never seen her with a purple rag. That hardly meant anything, though. She could've hidden it from him.

But then why would she deliberately murder her own people to save him?

There had to be an explanation for everything. And that was why he had to speak with her.

Henry felt terrible leaving Elouise, Eldon, and Gidget afterwards. They were worried about him. He understood that too well. And he had no idea what to say to them. Or how to lie to them, more like. If what he suspected was true, how was he supposed to tell them that he'd accidentally enlisted the help of the enemy?

Once in his guest chamber, he set the candle by the window and sat down on the bed, hopelessly waiting for something that could possibly not occur. He stared hard at the wall in front of him, rapidly tapping his fingers against the cotton duvet, and shaking his right leg.

If Haven didn't show, he would have a painfully long and restless night full of too many thoughts, regrets, and—worst of all—guilt.

After what couldn't have possibly even been an hour but certainly felt like a few, Henry jumped to his feet and began pacing. He considered how to approach this to her and the questions he wanted—no, needed—to ask without getting the dagger pressed against his neck. He instinctively grazed the area with the tips of his fingers as he thought back to that little inconvenience earlier.

"This should be fine," he whispered to himself, crossing the room for the tenth time. "There's no guarantee that she won't be angered with you, but you must know the truth." He stopped briefly, blinking a few times when he thought about what the truth could mean—and the string of consequences that would follow suit.

Henry thought he heard sounds outside his door. He turned, facing it, expecting someone to knock or say his name. Perhaps it was King Philip or Eldon. Henry raised his hand to his mouth and started chewing nervously on his thumbnail, waiting for nothing. Because nobody was actually there.

He was going mad, wasn't he?

He should've known it would've happened at some point.

"This is twice today that you've interrupted my time to indulge," Haven spoke from behind.

Henry dropped his hand and spun around. She sat on the windowsill, her hat covering half her face. She held the candle and waved her right palm over the flame, causing it to dance.

Henry felt bile rise to his throat. He couldn't do this. What made him think he could do this? He was the worst at confrontations.

Haven stood and set the candle back down on the windowsill. Then she removed her hat and placed it next to the candle. She shook her head a few times while carefully combing through her red locks with her fingers. And when she was finished, her straight hair settled perfectly down her back.