Henry’s POV
The dawn light was pale and cold as I slipped through the quiet halls, carrying a water basin and clean linens. My heart felt heavier than the weight of the world. Last night had been the worst, Leila’s nightmares had echoed through the corridors, cries that stabbed my ears. I had found her pacing her room at the edge of the sky-lit garden, hands clawing at her hair, tears staining her cheeks.
This morning, I found her asleep in a low chair by the window, a thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair spilled across the floor like ink in water. The moonlight had given way to dawn, and her pale face was pinched with exhaustion.
I knelt beside her and gently lifted her hand, brushing my thumb across her palm. The cut on her forearm from Liam’s failed attempt to protect
