Helen did not slow down. The moment the words left her mouth, the moment the truth settled in her chest, her body moved on its own. She moved with urgency, heading straight to the Warden's castle. She crossed the courtyard of the Warden's castle with urgency, her boots striking hard against stone. Guards turned at her passing, confused by the speed, the look on her face.
She did not stop. She knew where to go: Cedric's chamber.
Inside, the world was still untouched. For the past four days, Cedric and Evelyn had shut everything else out. War had felt distant. Politics had felt like noise that could be ignored. They had stayed within those walls, talking, laughing, holding onto something that felt safe.
Too safe.
Cedric lay on top of Evelyn, naked. Their breath was hot and hard. Sweat poured from their skin, a testament of their four days' enclosure from the rest of the world.
Then the door burst open. It slammed hard against the wall. The sound shattered everything.
Cedric jerked upright instantly, instinct taking over as he reached for the nearest cloth. "Can't you at least knock?" he snapped, his voice sharp, anger rising before thought could catch up.
Helen stood at the doorway. She did not move. She did not apologize either. Her face said everything before her words did. "Your mother is dead."
Silence fell.
The words did not land gently. They hit hard.
Cedric froze. "What?"
It slipped out of him before he could stop it. His voice sounded foreign, like it belonged to someone else. "What are you talking about?"
Helen stepped forward. "It was a trap," she said. Her voice did not shake now. It had gone cold. "The wedding was a trap."
Her eyes locked onto his. "Theon sold the king to Robert Rendell."
Cedric's breath caught.
"And the king, and everyone who followed him, including your mother and your brother."
She paused.
"…was slaughtered."
The room seemed to tilt. Cedric moved without thinking, pushing himself off the bed, barely aware of anything else. His hands fumbled with his clothes, his chest rising too fast.
Evelyn had already stood. She did not reach for anything to cover herself. She stepped forward instead, her face pale, her eyes wide. "How about Maria?" she demanded. Her voice cracked. "Is she safe?"
Helen didn't answer for a second, or two. That was enough. "Talk to me!" Evelyn shouted, her voice breaking through the silence.
Helen's lips parted. "She is dead.".The words came out flat. Heavy, and final. Tears rolled down her face as she said it, but she did not stop them.
The room went still. No one moved. No one spoke. The weight of it settled slowly, crushing everything in its path.
Ten minutes later, they were all gathered. No one sat. No one relaxed. The air felt tight, stretched thin.
Rita stood at the center, her posture rigid, her eyes burning. "They killed the commander in cold blood," she said. Her voice held no softness. Only anger.
She turned to Helen. "We must avenge them."
Helen shook her head immediately. "We do not have the numbers," she replied. Her tone was sharp, cutting through the emotion in the room. "We must run."
The word hung there.
Run?
"To where?" Claudia asked. Her voice was quieter, but no less strained. "We cannot return home. We've been branded enemies of the North."
She exhaled, her shoulders tightening. "And with Robert taking over the Nine Kingdoms, we have nowhere to go."
The truth settled like a weight pressing them all down.
Evelyn lifted her head slowly. Her eyes moved across them. "Maybe we should cross over to Astania," she said. "The next country."
Helen let out a short, humorless laugh. "They will kill us before we even set foot on their land," she replied. "Maria defeated their king. She killed their prince."
She shook her head once. "We won't last a day there."
Cedric stepped forward, frustration breaking through him now. "The Kenwools are coming for our heads," he said, his voice rising. "And yet there is nowhere in the world we can run to."
Silence answered him.
Heavy, and unforgiving.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Evelyn moved. Slowly at first, then faster. "There might be a place," she said.
Every head turned toward her. "Where?" they asked, almost at once.
She didn't answer. She turned and hurried out of the room.
When she returned, she carried something in her hands.
A map. It was the only thing Maria had taken with her when she escaped Snowland.
Worn at the edges. Folded many times over. She spread it out before them. "This is a copy of the map from the Warden's castle in Snowland," she said, her fingers pressing against the surface.
Helen leaned in. Her brows furrowed almost immediately. "This…" she said slowly. "This is Skulland."
Her gaze lifted.
"The ancestral home of the Norsemen."
Evelyn nodded. "Yes." Her voice was steady now. "They say it lies far to the east." She looked around the room. "We can go there." Helen shook her head. "It doesn't exist."
The words came quickly. "It's a story. A myth." Evelyn met her gaze without hesitation. "If it doesn't exist," she asked quietly, "then where did we come from?"
Helen didn't answer. Cedric stepped forward instead. "We don't have time to argue about whether it exists or not," he said. His voice had settled into something firmer now.
"We need to move."
His eyes moved from one face to another. "It is the only place we can go."
Helen held his gaze. "What if it doesn't exist?"
Cedric didn't flinch. "Then we die trying to find it." The room went quiet again. His words hung there.
Clear, and uncompromising.
"If we stay," he added, "we die anyway."
That was it. That was the truth none of them could escape. One by one, they nodded.
"How do we get out?" Hannah asked. Her voice was low, cautious. "The Ashford soldiers are everywhere. They must have orders to watch us."
Helen's jaw tightened. "We move at night," she said. Her eyes hardened. "We take them out."
She paused.
"Then we take their ships, and ride off Cliffland before the Kenwools arrive." No one argued.
Night fell. The castle dimmed. Shadows stretched longer. Inside, Evelyn worked in silence. Her hands moved with precision, mixing, grinding, measuring. The faint smell of something bitter filled the air around her.
No one disturbed her. They knew better. When she was done, she looked up. "It's ready."
The plan moved quickly. Food was prepared, and served to the soldiers.
The soldiers ate, not all, but enough. One by one, they began to slow, to stumble, to fall.
The ones who noticed reached for their weapons. But it was too late. Blades met them before they could react.
The fight did not last long. It wasn't clean, it wasn't quiet, but it was fast.
When it ended, bodies lay scattered across the ground. All Ashford soldiers were gone. All that was left were the maiden warriors and a few men that were loyal to House Ferran.
They moved immediately. No time to linger. No time to think. Ships were taken. Provisions gathered. Water. Food. Anything that could keep them alive at sea.
They worked without speaking, each one knowing what needed to be done. Then they began to board. One after another.
But Evelyn did not move. She stood at the shore. Still, and watching.
Cedric noticed immediately. "Evelyn!" he called. His voice carried across the distance.
"Hurry!"
She shook her head. "No." The word came calm. Too calm.
Cedric stepped off the ship and moved toward her quickly, grabbing her wrist. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "Come with me."
She pulled her hand free. "I will not join you now," she said. His brows pulled together.
"What?" Cedric lamented, confusion laced on his face.
"I will meet you at Sea Crest," she continued. Her eyes did not waver. "If I do not get there within four days,"
She paused.
"…assume I am dead."
The words hit him harder than anything else that night. He stepped closer. "No." His grip tightened again. "Come with me."
But she pulled away once more. Stronger this time. "Let go of me." Her voice rose. "I have to go to Ashford."
Silence fell around them.
"And do what?" Cedric snapped.
Her answer came without hesitation. "Bury my mistress."
The air shifted. Everyone stared at her. Disbelief, shock, and fear. "They will kill you the moment they see you," Cedric said, his voice breaking now.
Evelyn nodded slightly. "Maybe." Her gaze softened just a little. "But I will not leave her like that."
Her voice dropped. "She deserves a proper burial." Cedric opened his mouth to argue again. But Claudia stepped in. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Her mind is made up," she said quietly. "You cannot stop her."
She turned to Evelyn. "We will wait at Sea Crest."
She paused.
"After four days, we leave."
Evelyn nodded once. That was enough. "Move the ship," Hellen echoed.
The ships began to move. Slowly at first, then faster. The water parted as they pushed forward into the night.
Cedric stood at the edge, his eyes locked onto Evelyn. She did not move. She did not look away. A part of him wanted to jump back.
To stay with her. To follow her. But another part held him in place. The part that knew the danger he was in.
The part that understood what would happen if he did. So he stayed, and watched. Until the distance grew too wide. Until she became smaller. Until she was almost gone.
Evelyn turned. The moment the ships disappeared, she moved.
Quick, and decisive. She made for the fastest vessel left behind. Her hands worked the ropes.
The sails caught the wind. The ship shifted. Then surged forward, toward Ashford. Toward death. And toward something she refused to abandon. "I will give Maria a proper burial, even if I will die afterward."