Helena tightened her grip on the carved axe and started walking north. The road to Wesix was long, but she knew what waited at the end of it. Zeus. A deposed king, yes, but still a king. Marrying him meant a crown, safety, and a real claim on Valderon. She did not pretend otherwise. She walked for two days. The axe grew heavy across her shoulder. She practiced the words she would say when she offered it to him. Wesix rose into view at dusk. A grand stone fortress sat at its center, towers high, guards posted at the gate. Outside the front wall stood a tall stone raven, wings folded, eyes sharp. A king's mark. He was here. Helena climbed the last slope and stopped at the gate. She lifted the axe and held it out to the guards. "Tell him Helena has come," she said. The gate creaked open.