Ulrich stopped retreating.
He stood with the stolen dagger raised before him, its dark blade angled toward the five masked demons closing through the barrier's darkness. Blood ran from the cut beneath his eye, traced the line of his cheek, and gathered at his jaw.
A drop fell.
It landed warmly against Kaliantha's pale cheek.
She felt it immediately.
Kaliantha lifted her gaze.
She stood pressed against Ulrich's chest, held close by the arm secured around her back. His body shielded her from the demons ahead, and at this distance she could feel the controlled rise of his breathing beneath the layers of his waistcoat. The air moved faintly against her forehead whenever he exhaled.
He had not let go of her once.
Not when the first blades came.
Not when one of them cut his cheek.
Not when he had to use one hand to throw a demon onto the marble while keeping his other arm around her.
"Let me go," Kaliantha said.
Ulrich did not look down.
