The clash of steel had quieted, leaving only the rasp of Henry’s breath and the thundering of his heart.

You were on the ground—bloodied, barely conscious. And Henry was already at your side, dropping to his knees, hands shaking as he cradled your face.

“No—no, no, look at me, love. Come on, keep those beautiful eyes open,” he whispered hoarsely, pressing his forehead to yours.