Page 231 of When Sisters Collide
Too late.
Volcos’ patience snapped. “Seize her.”
Alena’s heart kicked against her ribs. The riders dismounted at once, mud splattering their boots as they closed in. Apollo’s snarl split the air, and Otxoa lunged, teeth snapping shut inches from a man’s wrist. The rider recoiled with a curse.
Chaos erupted all at once.
From behind her, Danaos cursed. “Twelve be damned!” His hand went to his sword hilt, Despoina’s was already halfway drawn.
But Theo spurred his horse forward, cutting them off with a sharp command. “No!”
In the next beat, the redhead who’d shouted at Leywani lunged for Alena, his fingers reaching for her wrist?—
“Wait!” Alcaros’ shout tore through the downpour, his horse snorting and stamping in agitation. The warning barely registered before the air itself seemed to freeze.
Blinding ice-blue light erupted, and suddenly Leukos was there, moving with lethal precision. A razor-edged blade of ice shimmered into existence, its tip pressed against the redhead’s throat.
“Touch her,” Leukos growled, “and it’ll be the last thing you do.”
The warrior froze, eyes flicking between the glittering shard and Leukos’ glare holding him in place. His hand fell away, though he didn’t dare move otherwise.
All around, the riders stiffened, palms hovering above hilts, the air tight with the promise of blood.
“Enough,” Alena commanded.
The wolves fell silent at once, slinking back to her side. Leukos let the blade dissolve, ice fracturing into shards that hissed into the mud, but his glare never left the redhead.
Alena strode forward, mud sucking at her boots, unflinching beneath Volcos’ scrutiny. “We are not your enemy. We are your allies. Last summer, Prince Leukos swore to help you stand against the Rasennans—and the Achaeans intend to keep that oath.”
For a moment, Volcos said nothing. Up close, the drizzle clung to his hair and beard, creating a fine, wet sheen that made him look like a bear cloaked in mist. His gaze flicked to the wolves, then to Leukos’ defiant stance before settling on Alena.
His narrowed eyes drifted to her neck. “You aren’t wearing your mother’s torc.”
The remark caught her off guard.“No,” she replied, steady despite the catch in her chest. “It was a Gift from the White Mare. I’ve no right to wear it—not without her permission.”
One thick brow arched. “The White Mare?”
“Yes.”
Amusement flickered across his face, his lip curling with contempt. “Despite your mother’s blood, you’re more Achaean than Westerner. You speak their tongue, wear their clothes, and their gods saw fit to Gift you. Tell me—what makes you believe our goddess will acknowledge you?”
His words cut deeper than Alena expected, their sting sharpened by an uncomfortable truth. All her life, she’d believed herself Freefolk, but Damocles, a Megarian, had raised her. He’d taught her Koine, shared legends of Achaean heroes and gods every night before bed. Those stories had been her anchor, the dreams she’d clung to as a little girl.
Volcos was right. And he didn’t even know about her status as the Omega—yet another Achaean legend.
She glanced at Leukos standing beside Leywani, rainwater beading along strands of his midnight hair. His posture was taut, every muscle coiled with readiness, but his dark gaze remained fixed on her.
He caught her hesitation and offered a single nod. Small, almost imperceptible, but clear. A message meant only for her:Whatever you decide to do, I am with you.
His silent support spread through her like a shield of warmth against the cold, bolstering her resolve.
Alena held Volcos’ scornful stare without flinching. He might think her Achaean, but she was also her mother’s daughter. It didn’t matter what language she spoke or which gods had Gifted her; the Rebel Queen’s blood flowed through her veins just as surely as the rain soaked into the earth beneath her feet.
“The White Mare will speak with me because we have a common goal,” she declared, her voice like tempered steel. “To stop Emperor Tarquinius.”
What she didn’t say was that she also needed answers about Katell. And given Nik’s revelations about her sister’s Mark, she had a feeling the White Mare would have them.
Volcos’ light eyes raked over her, carrying the same disdain she’d seen in Gortynius and so many others. “The Emperor?” He gave a short, mocking laugh. “You’re chasing dreams, girl. As long as he sits on his throne in Kisra, he’s untouchable. You think you’re the first fool to try to kill him?”
