It was yet another night as the King of Ravka’s royal babysitter. Another night of him turning into a cannibalistic, bloodthirsty monster. And of course, as his General, it was your duty to find him and drag him back to Os Alta. Hopefully in one piece.

You were in a carriage now, keeping your distance from him, since you’d seen what he could do in this form. It took a few minutes, but eventually, he spoke, “I don’t suppose you brought me a fresh shirt?”

You wordlessly hand him a white shirt and a fur lined coat—fit for a royal, of course, but rumpled enough for it to seem as though he had spent the night drinking.

“Where did you find me this time?” he asked, keeping most of the tremor from his voice.

You wrinkle your nose at the memory. “A goose farm.”

“I hope it was one of the more fashionable goose farms.” He fumbled with the buttons of his clean shirt, fingers still shaking. “Do you know what I killed?”