Page 127 of When Sisters Collide
His words faded into silence.
A cold spike of dread slid down Alena’s spine. She swallowed hard, forcing down the rising tide of fear. “What about your Gift?”
“It returned,” he said with a huff, anger flashing in his eyes. “Tenfold, a hundredfold—I don’t know. But it’s out of control. If I touch another person, they freeze. Objects, too, if I’m not focused.”
So Danaos hadn’t lied.
The truth landed like a punch to her ribs. Worse than she’d imagined. But she refused to let him suffer alone. Not when Leukos looked like he was unravelling. Beneath the steel in his tone, his eyes betrayed the torment gnawing at him.
The North Wind had turned his Gift into a curse.
She would not let him carry this alone. He needed her, and no matter how dangerous, she would find a way to help.
“What about your mother’s potion?” she asked, grasping for anything that might bring relief. “It helped me when I received my Gift from the Huntress.”
Leukos shook his head, looking away. He raked a hand through his dark hair in a rare, unguarded display of frustration. “Nothing has worked so far. I… I don’t know what to do.”
That confession cracked something in her.
When she’d first arrived, he’d seemed so composed, so sure of himself—but it had all been a mask. As leader of the rebellion, he had no choice but to appear unshakable. But beneath that careful façade, he was coming undone.
Alena didn’t hesitate.
Pushing back her chair, she rose and crossed the space between them. Her heart pounded, but her steps were sure.
She met his gaze and extended her hand. “Show me.”
Leukos stared at her palm as if it were a dagger aimed at his chest. “What are you doing?” His voice was taut, every word wound tight.
“If you want my help, I need to understand what’s going on,” Alena said. “The Cyprian told me only I could help you, so maybe I’ll think of something you haven’t. She nudged her hand closer. “But first—show me. Touch my hand.”
He shoved his chair back, the legs scraping against stone as he stood. “No. It’s dangerous. We should call for a healer first.”
Alena caught the flicker of fear in his eyes. Something worse had happened. He wasn’t just worried—he was terrified of hurting her.
Slowly, she lowered her hand. “All right,” she said gently. “Then let’s try something else.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut in quickly. “It’s something Phoebe taught me when I struggled with my magic. It might help you, too. Just follow my lead.”
His dark eyes searched hers, his whole body tense, as though ready to bolt. Yet beneath the doubt, she saw trust—trust he gave her despite his fear.
She stepped back to give him space. “For this to work, you need to close your eyes. Focus on your breathing. Let everything else fade away.”
She demonstrated, inhaling deeply, exhaling slow and steady. For a moment, Leukos hesitated—rigid, wary—but then, with a long exhale, he closed his eyes.
“That’s it,” she murmured. “Keep them closed. Turn your focus inwards. Feel your magic—where it rests, how it moves. Let it flow through your body.”
His brow furrowed, lips pressed together in concentration.
“Now,” she continued softly, “guide it into your right leg. From your hip… down to your toes. Not too fast. Just steady, like water filling a cup.”
A thin sheen of frost spread beneath his right foot, threading across the stone.
Alena’s heart lifted. There was still control in him, buried beneath the fear and chaos.
“Good,” she said with quiet encouragement. “Don’t forget to breathe. Keep the flow in the lower half of your body. Try both legs now.”
His brow eased slightly, though tension still clung to his posture. His magic obeyed, the frost confined to his lower half.
