I turned my head slowly.
Hans stood there, looking far more put together than the last time I saw him. His tuxedo was spotless again, posture straight, expression composed—like the chaos earlier had never happened.
If anything, he looked pleased.
That was my first red flag.
"Good timing," he said. "We're short on hands."
"…Short on hands?" I repeated, already dreading where this was going.
"Yes," Hans nodded briskly. "The Duke is returning shortly. Preparations must be completed immediately."
I blinked.
"…Now?"
"Immediately."
"…At this hour?"
Hans gave me a look that suggested I had just asked something incredibly stupid.
"The stronghold was attacked," he said. "Do you believe the Duke would delay his return for the sake of sleep?"
"…No."
"Good."
I sighed.
So much for resting.
Hans clapped his hands once, sharp and efficient.
"Come. There is much to do, and very little time."
"I'm injured," I reminded him.
"Yes."
"I nearly died."
"I'm aware."
I stared at him.
