He saw at once the concern in her eyes that brought her immediately to his side. He gave her his weight and she bore it. Once inside, her token, so tenderly given, was pressed into service to staunch the flow of his blood. Her hands went to their task without hesitation; once again, he felt their competence, and even more, their comfort. The bleeding slowed, but the pain endured.
With the tournament's end, each would resume a separate life. The feel of her hands on his body, the feel of her lips against his, remained like a ghost memory haunting his waking hours. For when he turned back to look at her, he knew that just as his armor had been breached on the tournament field, she had pierced his heart.
