They brought her in on the seventh day.
I watched from the war room window as the escort came through the eastern gate — twelve soldiers in formation, Kaelon at the front, and Helvara in the center. Hands bound with runic chains. Head shaved the same way I remembered. Back straight.
She wasn't broken. That was the first thing I noticed. She walked like someone who'd already decided how this ended and had made peace with it. No stumbling, no dragging feet, no looking around at the city that had grown since the last time she'd been here. She looked straight ahead, and the crowd that had gathered along the main road parted without being told.
They knew who she was. Word had spread faster than the escort.
I met her in the lower chamber. Not the war room — that was for allies. Not the throne room — that was for the public. The lower chamber was stone, torchlight, a single table, two chairs. The kind of room where conversations happened without an audience.
