Page 52 of When Sisters Collide
Leukos pointed to his mother’s lifeless body sprawled across the marble. “The gods will curse you for this, traitor,” he spat. “And if they don’t, I’ll gut you myself.”
He woke with a gasp, bolting upright in the dark. Sweat clung to his tunic, tears streaked his face, and his chest heaved as he pressed trembling hands to his eyes.
The dream again. The nightmare that never left him.
He sat in silence, the room dim and still but for the faint rustle of wind outside. His heartbeat thudded in his ears.
The nightmares had worsened since reaching Tiryns—Charis, the frescoes, the palace. Every corner clawed at old wounds.
Nothing had ever quieted the void in his chest. Nothing but Alena.
And now she was gone, too.
He was alone again with the ghosts of Megara, the blood of his family, and the weight of everything left undone.
Grinding his teeth, he wiped his face with the back of his hand and forced the trembling to stop.
He had no time to fall apart. Not anymore.
He had to be strong—for his dead parents, for Aegeus, for Galen still held by the Rasennans, and for the rebellion.
Beneath his grief, the fire of vengeance burned low but steady.
War was coming, and Achaea would prevail.
But first, Leukos needed to reclaim his Gift.
Leukos kepthis eyes on the snow-covered mountainside ahead, boots crunching over ice, breath misting in the sharp air. The trail wound between jagged rocks and frost-laced pines, each step carrying them closer to the windswept caves where an altar to the North Wind lay hidden. His mother had shown him the path years ago—before everything had fallen apart.
He was reaching out with his senses, searching for that elusive tug of magic to guide him to the right place, when Nik broke the silence.
“So,” he said casually, “how long have you known about my cousin and the queen?”
Leukos glanced over his shoulder, keeping his face blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A lie. Danaos and Charis had been lovers for years, careful to keep their secret until now. Danaos had spent the morning hovering near Charis, stealing glances so often Leukos was surprised the whole Tirynthian court hadn’t caught on.
Nik narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even try. I saw the way they were looking at each other in the throne room.”
The blond wrapped his woollen cloak tighter, muttering under his breath. He hated the cold as much as Leukos loved it.
Leukos raised a brow. “Took you long enough to notice. Now I owe Theo money. He said you wouldn’t catch on until winter’s end. Pelagios even bet on spring.”
“Good to know my friends have been gambling on my cousin’s love affairs…” Nik shook snowflakes from his hair with a wry smile. “And it doesn’t bother you?”
“What do you want me to say?” Leukos shrugged, masking his frustration. The situation was complicated, but he’d always been clear with Charis—their wedding was purely political. He wasn’t interested in being her husband, and she was free to see Danaos.
Nik grabbed his arm, halting him mid-step. “She’s about to become your wife. And he’s a general in her army. Will you let them keep seeing each other?”
Leukos met his gaze, a dry smile tugging at his lips. “Why would I stop them?”
Nik’s frown deepened. “You can’t be that naïve. The Council won’t like it, and the court will talk. They’ll call you weak.”
Leukos gave him a flat look.
“Fine, no one will think you’re weak,” Nik conceded with a sigh, “but you know what I mean. They’ll expect children.”
Leukos froze. He’d once dreamed of a boy with dark, obsidian hair and green eyes, the colour of fresh spring. The boy’s laughter had rung out as a little girl stumbled after him, auburn curls bouncing around her shoulders.
