Page 43

“He could have been killed.”

“Yes.”

The single word lands without weight because he feels none.

“And if he had been?”

“Then we would have learned something.”

I look at the mirror again.

Corin’s posture remains burned into my memory from that passage, tense and furious and visibly fighting himself. Vaerith does not see a frightened man trying not to become monstrous. He sees a reaction waiting to be measured.

“There are rumors in the lower districts,” Vaerith says. “Gold eyes. Infernal contamination. A hybrid pretending at humanity. Most rumors are gutter fermentation, but occasionally filth produces truth.”

“And you intend to provoke him until he confirms it publicly.”

His eyes gleam. “I intend to determine whether he is a singular anomaly or the beginning of a larger pattern.”

The bond warms sharply beneath my ribs, almost like warning.

“If he is contract-damaged,” I say, “public provocation creates contamination risk. Infernal backlash spreads unpredictably through unwarded crowds. A visible incident near the registry or market would create liabilities across multiple noble holdings.”

Vaerith’s attention sharpens further.

“You advise caution?”

“I advise containment before spectacle.”

“Containment requires proximity.”

“Yes.”

“And who in my household understands infernal destabilization well enough to observe safely?”

There it is.

The true shape beneath the conversation.

He wants my proximity to Corin. He wants my training, my eyes, my access to become extensions of his own reach.

I keep my breathing level.

“I can review archive references first,” I say. “If he resembles an existing case type, direct observation may be unnecessary.”

“Observation is always necessary.”

“Then I will prepare criteria.”

“Good.”

He closes the folio and hands it back to me.

“Begin with behavioral triggers,” he says. “Threat response. Feeding instinct. Territoriality. Attachment points. I want a preliminary assessment by tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow night.

The drainage arcade.