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Ileave the battlements and return to the throne room in silence, ignoring the dunces celebrating by my side.
What do they have to cheer for? The best of our ladies begged to be carried out of the maze in instants, and one common woman shamed them so badly I wouldn’t show my face for the next hundred years in their stead.
Harl Greystone catches up to me and pats my back as though we’re the best of friends. “You rascal. I understand why you took your time, after all. She’s a wise choice.”
I’m horrified to understand he’s assuming I expected that Helyn would conquer the maze. He thinks I planned this, to make her win the heart of my court.
Yet what can I say—that she made a fool out of me and everyone else here?
“How’s your wife?” I ask, concealing my irritation behind a smirk.
Harl is undeterred, but a little miffed. “Proud as a punch. She still boasts to all our friends about being singled out by the king, you know.”
I give up in my endeavor to annoy him, resorting to speeding up to leave him behind.
Back in the great hall harboring my throne, I watch the excited crowd toast and cheer, exasperation rising at every moment I have to wait for the girl.
Again.
She finally appears at the head of a small procession, her dress still tied up at her hip, falling in waves down her left thigh.
This time, Helyn's entry isn't greeted by silence, but by roars.
Otto Nettlestein, my usually dignified advisor, rushes to her, screaming. “I bet on you! I bet you'd stay the longest! You won!”
He isn't the only one. Dukes and earls, princesses and greater ladies treat this common girl as though she just singlehandedly conquered an army of wraiths.
Helyn laps it all up, taking each praise, each familiar accolade by a crowd that would have loved nothing more than to see her fail only hours ago.
I watch, lounging on my throne, thoroughly ignored by my entire court. Each passing second increases my wrath.
I attempt to temper it. This night might not have turned as I expected it to, but it was useful nonetheless. I understand the girl a lot better than I could have days ago, when I believed her to be nothing more or less than a thorn in my side.
She didn't solve the maze. She conquered it.
Once every so many centuries, the gods like to throw a wrench in the machine, so to speak. During the Dark Wars, it was Valina Frejr. A solitary dark witch shouldn't have determined the outcome of an all-out war between all of the mainland kingdoms, but she did, because the god of chaos planted a child who should have belonged on the eternal side of the map among us.
Who would have seen it coming? Plenty of people, I'd wager, had they been observant.
Helyn Stovrj isn't merely a common girl from the wrong side of the river.
I never bothered to see her as a real threat, but she can no longer be ignored. She's one enemy worthy of my personal attention. I get the feeling she might be my downfall unless I deal with her now, while she's still at my mercy, a subject of my court, under my rule.
I smirk as one devious idea comes to mind. Proud as she is, certain of her own worth, she'll hate every second of what I have in store.
The Silver Labyrinth may not have humiliated her, but this certainly will.
I stand, and my court barely notices me, but Helyn does. Dread flashes in her green eyes as she reads my expression.
I'm not done with her, and she knows it.
"Helyn of the house of Rhodes," I call.
Instead of falling into a respectful silence, the court screams her name over and over.
Helyn, Helyn, Helyn.
"You were promised your weight in gold and honor beyond any in this court."
