Page 246 of When Sisters Collide
Leukos squared his shoulders and fixed Lecne with a hard stare. “Start from the beginning.”
“The Sixth Legion recruited me,” Lecne began. “Dalmatius found me when I was fighting in a small Eluvite arena, trying to make some money. He trained me, and I fought with the Black Helmets for a few months before my commander recommended me to serve in the capital with the Tarquinian Guard.”
He paused, spoon hovering midair before dipping it back into the bowl. “Velthur was the one who requested me. I didn’t know until this morning that he was your brother.”
Leukos’ stomach twisted, but he said nothing.
Lecne continued, his head bowed. “He must’ve known about my mother. She was a Westerner, loyal to the Rebel Queen. I think he sought me out for that reason. Within the first few weeks, he cornered me after training—asked what I knew of the Western Tribes. In the weeks that followed, he baited meinto talking about the Rebel Queen, the Battle of Kendrisia, questioning my opinions, my allegiance. At first, I thought he was testing me, but gradually I began to see a pattern. Still… the captain of the Tarquinian Guard, a rebel? It didn’t make sense. Especially with the rumours…”
He trailed off.
Leukos’ eyes narrowed. “What rumours?”
The guard’s gaze flicked up, wary. “That the Emperor and he… are lovers.”
A tense silence followed. Theo and Nik exchanged a glance. The distant hammering of steel and shouts of the village children playing outside were the only sounds for a long beat.
Leukos’ chest tightened. He’d always known his brother liked men, but did he have to get entangled with theEmperorof all men?
He stared at Lecne, speechless.
Theo cleared his throat, breaking the taut silence. “So… you didn’t know who he was?”
“A Megarian?” Lecne gave a small shrug. “Not at first. But I knew he was hiding things. The Rasennans”—he let out a huff—“theyworshipTarquinius. Blind loyalty. Anyone who questions him disappears. So for Velthur—your brother—to even hint at rebellion? It made no sense… not unless something terrible had happened in his past. Something deep enough to make him want to burn it all down.”
He looked up then, meeting Leukos’ gaze with quiet gravity. “But after hearing about the Megarian massacre… I guess it would make anyone want revenge.”
Leukos’ jaw clenched until pain shot through his teeth. His thoughts were a storm, colliding and breaking without relief. “Thank you for answering,” he forced out.
Theo inclined his head to Lecne, gratitude flickering across his face. “Get some rest,” he said. “We’ll need you again soon.”
Lecne only nodded and returned to his soup without a word.
Leukos was already moving—halfway out the door before Theo finished speaking. The moment the cool air hit his face, he sucked in a breath like he’d been drowning. The hut had grown too small, the truth pressing in from all sides, crushing him.
His boots struck mud as he stalked down the village’s main path. He didn’t know where he was going—only that he needed air.
A memory surface, unbidden. Galen’s laugh, quiet and warm. The steady weight of his hand on Leukos’ shoulder whenever their father pushed too far. That boy would never?—
“Could it be true?” Nik’s voice carried after him. “He heard about the massacre once taken, swore revenge? Pretended to serve the Emperor just to get close enough to strike?”
“Perhaps,” Theo answered, though doubt edged his words.
Nik pressed on. “Then why would the Emperor risk it? Why let a political hostage—the son of his enemy—rise so high?”
“Perhaps because he wasn’t a hostage.”
Theo’s words hit like a punch. Leukos froze mid-step, the air gone from his lungs. He spun around. “What do you mean?”
Theo didn’t flinch, though his posture radiated caution. “Galen vanished a few daysbeforethe Megarian massacre. No sign of abduction or struggle. Just… disappeared.”
Leukos shook his head. “We assumed?—”
“We hoped,” Theo cut in. “But what if he went to them of his own will?”
The silence that followed was brutal. Leukos’ pulse thundered in his ears. His mind reeled, dragging up fragments of memory he hadn’t touched in years—Galen quizzing him on Achaea’s blood-soaked history, always patient, always composed. He’d been the one to explain the rise of the Achaean League, how it offered fragile peace among the kingdoms despite the Emperor’s looming ambitions. Once, he’d even suggestedthat brokering a deal with the Rasennans might be the only way out of the Megarian siege…
Nik’s expression darkened. “Are you saying Galen was behind the massacre all along? That he made a deal with the Emperor?”
