No one had expected the palace gates to be so crowded.
As the riders emerged from the forest path, the royal guards and soldiers were already waiting, lined in disciplined rows, their armor catching the light. Word had traveled faster than Queen Helena had hoped. Eyes followed her the moment she crossed into the courtyard. Whispers rippled through the ranks, sharp and curious, not quite respectful.
Her chest tightened.
Through the press of bodies and steel, she saw him.
Her devil husband, King Nimrod, stood near the steps, his dark silhouette unmistakable even from a distance. Helena looked away at once, fixing her gaze on the stone beneath her horse's hooves. Her eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall.
Not here, she said to herself.
The horses came to a halt.
Nimrod moved first.
"What have you done?" His voice cut through the air, low but carrying, sharp enough to silence the murmurs around them.
Helena swung down from her horse without answering.
She walked past him, past the soldiers, straight to the line of mounts behind her. David was still tied to one of them, his wrists bound, his face pale and streaked with dirt. Her breath hitched. She reached for the rope, fingers trembling as she tried to loosen the knot.
Behind her, Nimrod's restraint shattered.
"Are you jesting?" He grabbed her arm, fingers closing hard around her sleeve, "Have you lost your mind?"
"Let go of me!" Helena said quietly.
"Look at me," Nimrod snapped, "Tell me this is some cruel joke."
"No," she said, wrenching her arm free, "I won't."
David stirred, forcing himself upright despite the pain. His eyes met Helena's, wide with confusion and fear. He didn't understand what he was seeing, only that something was deeply wrong. One of the soldiers noticed his movement and reacted without hesitation.
A sharp kick.
David collapsed with a cry, his body going slack against the dirt.
"Stop!" Helena screamed.
She ran to him, dropping to her knees at his side, but Nimrod caught her again, dragging her back as though she weighed nothing at all.
"Tell them to stop hurting him!" she pleaded, her voice breaking, "Please! This is my fault. I made him come with me."
Nimrod froze.
"David, is it?" he repeated slowly.
"Yes!" Helena clutched at his arm, "He's a servant here. I forced him to escort me. Punish me if you must, but leave him alone! He is not in the wrong here."
"And you defended him? Right in front of your husband?!"
"I'm sorry!" she whispered, "Please?"
Nimrod turned toward the soldiers, his eyes dark with something dangerous.
"Enough," he said.
The order needed no explanation. The soldiers stepped back at once, releasing the rope. David was left where he lay, gasping, shaking, alive.
Without another word, Nimrod turned and hauled Helena toward the palace.
The chamber doors slammed shut behind them.
"What was your intention?" Nimrod demanded, shoving her toward the bed, "To run off with a servant? To humiliate me before my own kind?"
Helena stumbled backward, scrambling across the mattress until the headboard stopped her. She pressed herself against it, heart pounding, watching him as though he were a stranger.
"Answer me," he growled, "Or I swear!"
"Take me home," she cried suddenly, "Take me back to my brother."
Nimrod laughed once, sharp and humorless, "To Vertox?"
"Yes..." Her voice cracked, "I don't belong here. I never did."
"This is exactly what you wanted," he said, "A palace hidden in the forest. Seclusion. Silence. You spoke of it when you were a child."
Helena went very still.
Her breath stalled, burning in her throat. She had spoken those words once before, to her cousin, when she was young enough to believe they would never matter.
"How do you know that?" she whispered.
Nimrod said nothing.
"You are not leaving," he said at last, "You are Queen of Witteland. You must accept it. That is your fate."
"I can't," she said, sinking to the floor, "I can't live like this."
Tears spilled freely now. She curled in on herself, pressing her face into her knees, her shoulders shaking. Nimrod watched her for a long moment before sitting at the edge of the bed.
"Helena," he said more softly.
She didn't look up.
"Helena?"
Nothing.
"Look at me."
At last, she raised her head. Her face was blotched with tears, her eyes swollen and red.
"Tell me what would make you stay," Nimrod said, "Name it."
"I want to go home."
"That is not an option. This is your home now."
"Then nothing will ever be enough."
He exhaled slowly, "Ask for something else."
She studied his face. There was something unfamiliar there. There was no anger, no cruelty, just pure calculation.
"I want a white horse," she said quietly, "With a golden mane and tail. I want it before sunset."
"Done."
"I want my own chamber," she continued, "I will not share a bed with you."
His jaw tightened, "Choose any room you wish."
"And if you fail?" she asked.
"If I fail," he said evenly, "I will return you to your father."
She nodded once.
"Every Sunday," she added, "I will attend church."
Nimrod hesitated, but nodded.
"And lastly," Helena said, rising to her feet, "I want you to become fully human. Faithful. No more maids. No more… others."
Silence filled the room.
Nimrod stared at her.
"That," he said slowly, "is not a simple request."
"So you can't grant it," she said, bitterness creeping into her voice.
"I did not say that."
"Then why haven't you agreed?"
He turned away, "Because some things are not meant to be spoken so lightly."
Helena smiled faintly, a tired, knowing curve of her lips.
"You can't," she said.
Without another word, King Nimrod left the chamber, the door closing behind him with finality.
Helena stood alone in the silence, her crown heavy upon her head, heavier than she had ever imagined possible.