When their noon meal had begun, Leo knew something was wrong. His vision was cloudy and his head burned. His fever throughout the day had become worse than ever before. He reached for his goblet and drained it, attempting to parch his increasingly dry throat. His brother had just finished saying something, but he couldn't place it.
He straightened. No, he could not allow himself to succumb. True, the great hall was devoid of a great many courtiers, but he knew word would get out. He stood up, turning to Ingrid.
"I feel... We must get back to our rooms. No one must see," he murmured, fighting against his failing voice. He stood, striding as confidently out of the room as he could manage, mentally apologizing to his wife for his stubbornness, but it was important to avoid a scene. Still, he could not manage more than a few steps before collapsing. There was a rush of movement as his collapse caught the attention of the room. Beorn was upon him in an instant.
"Poison?" He asked, the young monk's voice betraying suspicion. He felt his head and then his neck and jaw, "No swelling. We have to get him to my room."