Page 82 of When Sisters Collide
Across the yard, the praefect strode smoothly towards her.
“A slip of a girl like you couldn’t have such a Gift,” he said, eyes narrowing. “I only knew of one man who held such power, and he went to great lengths to obtain it.”
Alena raised her blade. “The Blood Wolf,” she answered. “I know all about him.”
She’d touched his Mark and received his Gift from the Huntress. If she found the praefect’s Mark, perhaps she could defeat him the same way.
As he closed in, she scanned his weathered skin for a Mark. Her Gifted vision caught every detail in the morning light: scars lacing his forearms, red tunic snapping at his thighs, steel greaves gleaming dully at his shins. But no Mark. Nothing visible. It could be hidden—beneath the cloak or under the cuirass.
The praefect stopped short, studying her. “How?” he asked, voice low.
“Because I took his Gift from him.”
She braced for another surge of wind, but instead, the man threw back his head and laughed. The sound rang sharp and cruel in the frigid air.
“Now I know you’re lying,” he said, turning to his men and barking something in Rhaetic.
The soldiers chortled in unison, their breath steaming in the cold. The sound echoed off the barracks, though it never reached the slaves. They stood huddled beneath the hard eyes of the quarry supervisors. The overseers flanked them with stiff postures, grips tight on the hilts of their whips, ready to strike.
The slaves watched in silence.
“No one can take magic from a Gifted,” the praefect continued. “That’s not how it works.”
With a snap of his fingers, wind erupted at Alena’s feet. It spiralled upwards, fast and violent, snaring her legs and waist. Before she could move, it wrenched her off the ground.
She twisted, trying to jam her sword into the dirt for purchase, but the blade scraped uselessly against the frozen mud. The gale ripped her free, and she landed hard at the praefect’s feet, the air driven from her lungs.
He looked down at her, and the hard gleam in his eyes made her skin prickle with dread. “Now, tell me who you really are.”
Alena pushed to her feet, sword raised between them. She met his gaze without flinching. The Blood Wolf had known her name, but she wouldn’t hand this man more than he already had. The Emperor knew too much.
She said nothing.
The praefect clicked his tongue, stroking his beard as he studied her. “You speak fluent Koine. So… one of the Megarian rebels, then? Following little Prince Leukos?” She failed to conceal her surprise, and his smile sharpened. “Tell me, who counsels him now? That coward Xanthos and his loyal dog, Pelagios?”
Alena’s pulse quickened. How did he know them all by name? “Who are you?”
He circled her with deliberate slowness. “I was once part of the Megarian court.”
Her breath hitched.
“I followed King Pandion and believed in his dreams, but he only led us to defeat and ruin. So I left—swore my loyalty to the Emperor and Rasenna.”
Alena stared, cold disbelief rippling through her. “You…” she whispered. “You were a Silver Shield.”
The praefect huffed, almost amused. “Haven’t been called that in a long time.”
His casual tone ignited something in her. Didn’t he see the blood on his hands?
“You’re one of the traitors,” she hissed. “The ones who turned on the king. You’re responsible for the massacre.”
He stopped before her, expression like stone. “The legions were ready to burn Megara to the ground. The massacre was the better option.”
“Thebetter option?” Her voice quivered with rage. Leukos had lost his whole family. He was haunted by the horrors of that night, and this man dared to call it mercy?
She lifted her sword a fraction higher. “You swore fealty to King Pandion. You were his closest guard—and you betrayed him in the worst way imaginable. His family was almost wiped out, and you let it happen.”
The praefect’s face darkened. “What doyouknow of Pandion or his court?” he spat. “I fought at his side for years before he even acknowledged me. I earned my place as a Silver Shield, but I was never truly one of them.”
