George's footsteps followed him longer than they should have.
Prince Henry sensed it before he heard it. The subtle delay, the measured distance kept out of respect rather than stealth. The palace corridors were dim at this hour, lit only by the occasional torch that cast long shadows across stone walls worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. The soft clink of armor echoed behind him, steady and unmistakable.
Henry stopped.
He turned slowly, fixing George with a sharp look that brooked no evasion.
"Are you following me, George?" he asked.
George halted at once and bowed, his hand pressed over his chest, "Forgive me, Your Highness. I was sent by His Majesty. The King requests your presence in his study. He says it is urgent."
Henry closed his eyes briefly and drew in a controlled breath.
"Tell my father," he said at last, his voice low but firm, "that I will come when I am finished dealing with the consequences of his choices."
George did not argue. He bowed again and stepped back into the shadows, leaving Henry alone with his thoughts.
The prince resumed walking, his stride longer now, sharper. Guards stationed at the palace's central border straightened as he passed, saluting without question. He barely acknowledged them. His mind was already racing ahead, bracing for what he suspected awaited him.
When he asked for Hugo, the answer came quickly.
"In your study, Your Highness. With two… guests."
Henry did not pause to ask who. He pushed open the door to his study without knocking.
Three men stood in the center of the room.
Henry stopped short, fury flashing across his face.
"Who," he demanded coldly, "gave you permission to enter my study?"
Hugo stepped forward at once, "Your Highness, I tried to bar them. They insisted. I was… overpowered."
Before Henry could respond, one of the men spoke.
"My brother-in-law."
The voice was smooth. It slid through the air like silk over steel.
Henry's eyes locked onto him.
The man was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed impeccably in dark fabric that fit him as though it had been tailored to his body alone. His face was striking in a way that felt deliberate, almost unnatural.
Henry took a step closer.
"Beelzebub," he said flatly.
The man smiled, "Please, Nimrod will do, I'm wearing a human body at the moment."
He extended his hand.
Henry ignored it and instead moved behind his desk, placing solid wood between himself and the thing standing in his study. The others turned to face him.
"You were in my sister's room," Henry said, his voice tight with restraint, "You will never do so again. You will never touch her. Do you understand me?"
Nimrod's smile widened, amused rather than offended. He glanced at Mason, "You were right. He is likable."
Then his gaze returned to Henry slowly, "I didn't expect you to realize it was me so quickly."
Henry's hands clenched on the edge of the desk, "What did you do to her?"
Nimrod tilted his head, "Why don't you ask her yourself? She didn't seem frightened. Quite the opposite, really. When I touched her hair, her body reacted..."
"Enough!"
Henry slammed his fist down, "In the name of God, if you ever lay a finger on my sister again, I will see you destroyed, even if I have to drag you back to hell myself."
The laughter in the room died instantly.
Nimrod studied him for a long moment, then calmly took the chair opposite the desk, uninvited.
"Mason tells me you wished to speak with me," he said mildly.
"Yes," Henry replied, "I want the pact annulled."
Nimrod's expression cooled, curiosity giving way to calculation, "You speak as though that is within your power."
"I am willing to offer you anything," Henry said, "Anything... If you abandon this marriage."
Nimrod glanced back at Mason, amused, "Anything?"
Henry swallowed, "Ten women. Chosen from noble bloodlines."
"Ten?" Nimrod repeated softly.
Henry nodded.
Nimrod laughed, "Ten thousand would not be closer to the value of what your sister represents."
Henry stared at him, stunned, "Ten thousand?"
"Fertile. Beautiful. Loyal," Nimrod said casually. Then he waved the idea away, "But it doesn't matter. Even a million wouldn't replace Helena."
Henry's composure cracked, "Please," he said hoarsely, "Name your price."
Nimrod rose to his feet, "I never wanted this pact," he admitted, "Not until today. There's something about your sister... I would say something rare. Something I don't intend to surrender."
He stepped toward the door as Mason opened it for him.
"I'm returning to my kingdom," Nimrod added lightly, "No need to lock her away with guards. Jealousy doesn't suit me."
Henry's voice broke, "Please? Anything?"
Nimrod paused only long enough to glance back, "Save your efforts. Your priests won't help you. Power like ours doesn't bow to prayer."
And then he was gone.
Henry sank into his chair, his hands covering his face as a quiet, broken sound escaped him. Hugo remained where he stood, unable to speak, bearing silent witness to the moment the Crown Prince of Vertox realized he might already be too late.