Helena woke to the sound of footsteps. Not the soft tread of servants she had learned to ignore since childhood, but something hesitant, as if whoever approached had not expected company. Light spilled across the floor, thin and pale, slicing through the tall shelves and cutting straight across her face.
She sat up sharply, heart thudding, the leather chair protesting beneath her. Her body ached from the night spent curled there, half-awake, half-listening for danger that never announced itself.
The figure froze in the doorway.
"I," The man stopped short, clearly startled. He bowed so quickly he nearly collided with the doorframe, "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I didn't know the library was occupied."
Helena studied him without answering.
He was young. Early twenties, perhaps. Brown hair, cropped simply. No armor. No sigil. No unnatural stillness, no eyes glowing red, no presence that made the air feel wrong.
"Are you human?" she asked.
The man blinked, caught off guard, "Yes, Your Majesty."
"How do I know if you are telling the truth?" she pressed.
He hesitated, confusion flickering across his face, "I… breathe. I eat. I sleep. I remember being born." He offered a small, nervous smile, "As far as I know, I've always been human."
Helena rose slowly from the chair, joints stiff, every movement deliberate, "Your name?"
"David."
"David," she repeated, testing the sound of it, "Why are you here?"
"I'm part of the cleaning staff," he said quickly, "Assigned to the west wing. I came to collect returned books."
She stepped closer.
"May I touch you?"
His ears reddened instantly, "Ma'am, I don't think it's appropriate."
She didn't wait for permission.
Her fingers closed around his wrist.
Warm. Solid. Human warmth is unmistakable. The faint pulse beneath his skin confirmed it. Helena released him at once, a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, leaving her lungs.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
David looked more confused than before, "Did… something happen last night, Your Majesty?"
She ignored the question.
"How long have you worked here?"
"A week."
"And before that?"
"I lived in Hertmeen," he answered, "My parents were shepherds. We heard there was a kingdom offering fair wages and protection. A royal envoy arranged transport."
"How did you get here?"
David frowned, "We were brought in covered carriages. Curtains drawn. No one was allowed to look out."
Helena's mouth tightened.
"Do you know where you are now?"
"No, Ma'am."
That settled it.
"Do you have a horse?"
"Yes."
"I need to borrow it."
David stiffened, "My horse?"
"Yes."
He swallowed, "Of course. It would be an honor."
"Good." She turned away, already deciding, "Fetch me a dress from my chamber. Anyone will do."
He hesitated, "Your Majesty, should I-"
"Now," she said, not raising her voice, but sharpening it just enough.
He bowed and hurried out.
When he returned, dress folded neatly in his arms, she took it without comment.
"Wait outside," she ordered, "And stay close. I'll need your horse."
She changed quickly, hands steady despite the storm inside her chest. The fabric felt unfamiliar. Too light, too ordinary for a princess, but that was precisely the point.
When she emerged, David looked up in surprise. She no longer resembled a bride or a queen, but a young woman intent on leaving.
They moved through the gardens as the morning light began to soften the palace stone. Dew clung to the hedges. Somewhere, birds sang as if nothing in this world had shifted.
At the stables, Helena approached a brown horse with calm assurance. The animal lowered its head, snorting softly, as if sensing her urgency.
"You can borrow your friend's horse," she said.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Good. We're going to the nearest church."
David froze, "A church?"
"Yes."
"Forgive me," he said carefully, "but shouldn't you be escorted by guards?"
"No." She tightened her grip on the reins, "I don't want guards."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, he nodded, "As you wish."
She mounted smoothly, posture straight, gaze fixed ahead.
David followed, heart hammering, leading them away from the palace not through the main road, but through a narrow path hidden by trees, one clearly meant for servants, not royalty.
The forest swallowed them quickly.
As the palace disappeared behind the leaves, Helena did not look back.
For the first time since crossing into this land, she felt something close to choice. And that terrified her almost as much as staying.