Henry ran.
Full sprint through Ashfeld's streets, dodging pedestrians, jumping over merchant displays, ignoring the startled shouts of people he nearly collided with.
His lungs burned. His legs protested. He wasn't young anymore. Wasn't built for this.
But he ran anyway.
Azra. The guards. Assault charges. Vanessia needs to know.
Within moments, the Valcieri home came into view.
He burst through the gate, nearly tripping on the path. Stumbled up to the front door and shoved it open with enough force to make it bang against the interior wall.
"My lady!" He gasped out. Wheezing.
"Where's... where's Vanessia?"
Two maids appeared from the parlor. Eyes wide at his disheveled state.
"Lord Henry?" The older one stepped forward with concern. "Are you alright? You look—"
"Where. Is. Vanessia?" Each word came out between desperate gulps of air.
"The lady is having her afternoon tea in the gardens," Mira said quickly. "She said not to disturb her unless—"
