Henry wasn’t sure if he was Henry anymore.

He felt like Henry some days. Well, what he remembered Henry feeling like.

He felt like Henry when he was working in the forge, sweating like a pig and beating the shit out of molten metal. He felt like Henry when Islwyn clapped him on the back and shoved a tankard of ale in his hand. He felt like Henry when a little girl, blonde and filthy, tugged on...