CHAPTER 443: THE CRUEL CHOICE

Turik’s gaze slid past Helga, past the blood pooling on the stones, and fixed on the trembling cluster of princesses. His grin returned—slow, deliberate, serpentine.

"You stand so proudly, Queen Helga. But pride is brittle when children are at stake."

Helga froze. Fear gripped her that she forgot to mask her expression.

Turik chuckled. He flicked two fingers. Instantly, armored hands shot forward, seizing Amielle and Mira. The princess consorts shrieked as they were dragged to the center of the chamber, their gowns tearing against the stone. Ceres lunged to follow, but a fist struck her across the mouth and sent her sprawling.

"No!" Reuben’s voice cracked as he surged forward. Two knights pinned him, their grips iron.

Turik crouched between Reuben’s two wives, studying them with the calm of a predator. Amielle struggled furiously, spitting curses through tears. Mira sobbed, eyes wide with terror, her body rigid in the soldier’s grip.

Turik’s gaze lifted to Reuben. His voice was silk laced with venom. "Be thankful that I there is too much blood it dampened my mood. But here is your trial, little prince. Choose."

Reuben froze, confusion flickering across his bloodied face. "Choose... what?"

"Which one dies? You can only save one." Turik said simply.

The chamber seemed to shrink. The torches hissed. Time itself stuttered.

Helga staggered forward, her composure cracking. "You vile monster! You will not—"

A sword-tip pricked her throat, halting her in place. Turik’s eyes never left Reuben. "Choose! Amielle or Mira. One lives. One dies. If you refuse, I will kill them both."

Reuben’s breath came ragged, his body shaking as though the weight of the walls pressed upon him. Mira’s eyes locked on his, pleading, silent. Amielle’s face twisted. She was afraid to hear his voice, afraid of the choice he would make.

"Don’t do this," Helga whispered, her voice breaking. "He means to tear you apart."

Turik leaned closer, savoring the moment. "Well, Prince? Or are you too weak to rule even your own blood?"

The silence cracked. Reuben’s throat burned as he forced the word out.

"Mira." Reuben’s voice was just above a whisper.

"Say it again! I did not hear." Turik’s command rang as if he was commanding a subordinate.

Reuben’s hatred flared.

"Mira!" this time, his voice was loud and clear.

The name shattered the chamber.

Relief washed over Mira and brilliant smile blossomed on her face.

Amielle went still. Her eyes widened, then glazed with devastation. She shook her head, lips trembling soundlessly. The betrayal was a blade far crueler than Turik’s steel.

Her knees buckled. Her body sagged in the knight’s arms. And then she collapsed entirely, fainting into darkness.

"No!" Helga cried, tearing against the sword that held her at bay.

Turik’s laugh rang out, echoing like thunder. He gestured for Mira to be released, but kept his gaze locked on Reuben.

"So the prince has teeth after all. But tell me—how will those teeth feel when your crown princess consort wakes, and knows you chose her death?"

Reuben’s face was a mask of anguish. He bit his tongue until blood filled his mouth, but the scream inside him refused to surface.

Helga’s arms closed around Amielle’s limp body as the soldiers dropped her unceremoniously at her feet.

Turik straightened, towering over them all. His eyes gleamed with triumph. "I have slain knights, broken oaths, and spilled rivers of blood. Yet none of it pleased me half so much as this."

He leaned down, his voice a whisper meant only for Reuben."You will carry this choice forever. And one day, boy, it will be the stone that sinks your crown."

Amielle’s limp body lay across Helga’s lap, her face pale as ivory, her lashes wet with tears shed before she collapsed. Helga’s arms wrapped around her daughter-in-law with the ferocity of a lioness shielding its cub, but her eyes—her eyes were not maternal now. They blazed with something colder, sharper, more terrible than grief.

"You dare," she whispered, her voice trembling not with fear but with wrath. "You dare use the prince’s wives as pawns in your game?"

Turik smiled, unshaken. "I do more than dare, Queen Helga. I win. And you—" he gestured to Amielle’s unconscious form, "—you lose."

Helga rose slowly, laying the princess consort gently to the ground. She stood tall, her silks torn, her crown askew, but in that moment she seemed larger than the chamber itself. Her voice was thunder barely contained.

"You call yourself conqueror, but all I see is a coward hiding behind cruelty. A beast in armor. A scavenger feeding on fear. You mistake brutality for power, General, but men like you burn quickly and leave nothing but ash."

Turik’s grin faltered, his jaw tightening. For the briefest instant, he saw not a shaken queen but a monarch whose gaze promised vengeance that would outlast empires.

Reuben, meanwhile, had fallen to his knees. His hands trembled, his chest heaved, and his bloodied lip quivered as the weight of his choice crushed him.

Mira is safe. Amielle... though she is not dead yet, I condemned my princess consort.

His stomach churned, bile rising. His fists struck the stone floor until his knuckles split, blood smearing the ground in a frenzy of self-punishment. Mira tried to reach for him, but he shoved her hand away, unable to face her eyes—eyes that silently asked why she was spared.

"Do you see him?" Turik’s voice was cruelly calm. "This is your heir. Broken by a single choice. What will he become when faced with a thousand? A king of corpses? Or a child forever haunted by ghosts?"

Reuben’s head snapped up, his eyes wild, pupils blown wide. There was no fear in them now—only hate. Hate for Turik, hate for himself, hate for the world that had made this night possible.

"I will kill you," he rasped, his voice torn raw. "I will kill you if it takes my last breath."

Turik chuckled, though unease flickered in his gaze. "Good. Hold on to that. Hate will eat you alive faster than my blade ever could."

Helga knelt beside her son, seizing his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. Her voice, though shaking, cut through the blood and grief like tempered steel.

"Reuben, hear me. This is not your shame. This is his cruelty. Do not let him twist you."

But Reuben’s jaw clenched, his voice barely human. "No, Mother. This is my curse. I chose. I chose."

Helga whispered, "Amielle is not dead yet. There is hope."

His eyes flicked to Amielle’s motionless form, and something in him fractured. Guilt had rooted deep, and from it, something darker was beginning to grow.

Helga turned her glare back to Turik. "You think you’ve broken us. But all you’ve done is forge us in fire. My son will remember this night—and when he rises, he will burn Zura from the maps of this world."

Turik’s smile returned, thin and cold. "We shall see, Queen. We shall see."

He signaled his men. The chamber door boomed shut, and with it, the weight of despair pressed in once more.