I woke up in darkness, my head pounding and my mouth tasting like copper pennies. The paralytic Isabelle had given me was wearing off slowly, leaving me with fuzzy vision and unsteady limbs. As my senses gradually returned, I realized I was lying on a narrow bed in what looked like a servant's quarters.
"You're awake," a familiar voice said softly from the shadows.
"Helena?" I struggled to sit up, my muscles still not quite responding properly. "Where are we?"
"Safe house in the village," Helena replied, moving into the dim light cast by a single lamp. Her weathered face looked older than I remembered, etched with lines of worry and something that might have been fear. "Isabelle brought you here about an hour ago."
"Isabelle?" The events in Victor's study came flooding back—the revelations, the fight, the desperate escape plan. "Where is she now?"
