The boy stirred an hour later. By then we had moved him to a nearby sitting couch. He sat up slowly, dazed, blinking at the firelight as if waking from a nightmare.
"What happened?" he asked.
"You tell us," Lucas said.
"I… I brought food, then… I don't remember anything else." He looked at us, eyes wide with fear. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Come," I said. "We need to speak with Lord Genrik immediately!"
—
We found him in his study, a glass of wine untouched at his side, surrounded by stacks of ledgers and scrolls. He looked up as we entered, brows lifting in polite surprise.
"You should be resting," he said. "Was the meal not to your liking?"
"The boy you sent," Lucas said without preamble. "He collapsed. Something happened to him."
Genrik's brow furrowed. "Collapsed? That doesn't sound like Dera. He's served here for years without issue."
"He didn't faint," I said. "He growled. Twitched. Like something inside him tried to break free."
