The first rays of dawn cut through the canopy, scattering gold over the glade. I stirred at the warmth on my face, the faint scent of damp earth and pine filling my lungs. For a moment, I didn’t move, letting the steady sound of Henry’s breathing anchor me in the quiet.

He was seated against a fallen log, his dagger resting on his knee, eyes scanning the forest. Alert.

Always alert.

“You didn’t sleep,” I said softly, pushing myself upright.

His green eyes flicked to ...