Page 194 of When Sisters Collide
“No, nothing,” she said between breaths, lowering the skin. “I wore it and tried focusing my magic the way you taught me, but it didn’t react at all.”
It was her mother’s Gift from the White Mare, not hers. Yet the thought gnawed at her—perhaps the failure wasn’t in the torc at all; perhaps she was too weak to claim it.
Phoebe tilted her head, idly spinning a dagger between her fingers. “Hmm… Well, maybe once you reach the Western Lands, you can ask the druids who serve the White Mare about it. They might know more.”
Alena ground her teeth. She would do no such thing—not after those same druids had called her a demon and tried to kill her in the hillfort of the Green Mountains. Better to keep far from them altogether.
Phoebe slipped the dagger back into her belt. “That’s enough for today.”
Alena blinked at her, then glanced up at the sky. The sun was still high, its light pooling across the garden stones. “We’re stopping already?”
Phoebe shrugged. “I’ve got other things to take care of.”
Alena tossed back the waterskin with a sigh. It was almost impossible to get a straight answer from the Amazon. Over the past few days, she’d disappeared multiple times to visit Tiryns’ temples without ever explaining why, leaving Alena guessing.
Phoebe departed, and Alena sheathed her blade while checking on Kaixo through her bond with Apollo. The wolf, as always, stayed close to the boy. She sensed them both in the front courtyard near the monumental fountain, where Nik and Leukos were training.
Hunger gnawed at her, so she stopped by the kitchens for a quick bite before heading to her room. After washing up, she changed into a simple green chiton and went to find Kaixo.
The palace buzzed with renewed energy as she made her way to the front courtyard. Servants hurried past with lightness in their steps, and guards exchanged easy smiles. Tiryns felt alive again, the oppressive weight of despair lifted since the siege had been broken and the Twelfth Legion defeated.
Alena couldn’t help but smile at the transformation. The people were hopeful now, whispering of a brighter future.
In the courtyard, beyond the towering marble fountains of the Sea God and the Maiden, Leukos was training with Kaixo by the palace walls, both wielding wooden practice blades. The sun lit his chiselled arms, throwing his movements into sharp relief. He swung the stick in a fluid series of slashes and parries, every strike controlled, every turn precise. Alena couldn’t help but be mesmerised—the way his tunic clung to his frame revealed the hard lines of a warrior’s build, a body forged by years of relentless training.
At his side, Kaixo tried to mirror Leukos’ fluid strikes, brow furrowed in concentration. In the shade, Apollo dozed with his head pillowed on his paws, while Nik lounged against a column, chewing an apple and tossing out jibes that drew the occasional glare from Leukos.
“Morning.” Alena approached, offering a warm smile. Kaixo’s frown deepened, his eyes flicking briefly to hers before returning to his practice. “You’re getting better, Kaixo.”
He only shrugged before turning his back on her without a word.
Leukos shot him a pointed look, and Kaixo muttered, “I enjoy training.”
Alena nodded, swallowing the sting of his indifference. When she opened her mouth to say more, he darted off to Nik, eager to show off his progress.
She turned her attention to Leukos instead, her tone softening. “And you? Your training?” She’d watched him from a distance, pushing himself in every spare moment, relentless in his effort to reclaim mastery of his Gift.
He held up the wooden blade in answer. “I haven’t lost control with objects in days.”
“That’s good,” Alena said, her relief genuine. Training was helping him improve, just as the North Wind had promised. “We should try?—”
“Not yet.” Leukos lowered his blade, tightening his grip. “When I’m ready, I’ll let you know.”
Alena hesitated, stifling the urge to press further.
Her thoughts drifted to her dream the night before. Leukos’ young voice still echoed in her ears, and the simmering rage on Galen’s face had been impossible to shake.
They’re wasting my time.King Pandion’s cruel dismissal reverberated in her memory, making her wince. She couldn’t imagine growing up with a father who’d made her feel unworthy of his attention.
Damocles had been stern—quick to correct Katell and her when they strayed—but never unkind. He’d tended to their wounds when they were hurt, soothed their fears during restless nights, and sacrificed without hesitation. He always gave themthe freshest food, saving the wilted vegetables and mouldy cheese for himself.
The contrast with Pandion struck her sharply. Leukos had never known hunger the way she and Katell had, but he’d been starved of a father’s warmth.
At least his mother and brothers had loved him as he deserved—until the massacre tore them away, leaving him to face the world alone.
No, not alone. He still had friends—Pelagios, Theo, even Nik—people who stood by him. And he had her.
A warmth spread through her chest. She would stay even if he pulled away, afraid of what his unruly Gift might do. She would stand by his side, whether or not he wanted her there.
