Only when Irene's boot and bloody stocking were completely off did they see the state of her foot. It was purple and bruised. It seemed inflamed and would likely get worse without the sturdy boot holding it in place. That much was certain by the way her leg swelled where the boot once cut it off.
Irene was on her elbows as she watched Henry taking care of her leg. With everything else going on, she had been indifferent to her own pain.
It wasn't honorable. It was idiotic, considering that if you were too gravely injured, you couldn't help the others in your party.
"I have to see if you were actually injected with venom," Henry explained.
"How will you—"
His answer came in the form of action as he lowered his mouth to her leg. Even though Irene cried out in pain, he began to suck at the wound. It was risky, but it would tell him if there was anything other than the metallic taste of her blood.
