Page 234 of When Sisters Collide
But it was her eyes that truly held Alena captive—deep, vibrant purple, like twilight skies just before dusk, filled with both tenderness and untamed ferocity.
The gaze of something ancient.
The goddess’ smile softened, though it never lost its wild edge. “Well, your arrival was rather unconventional, but I suppose you had your reasons. Here, let me help you, child.”
With a graceful wave of her hand, warmth seeped into Alena’s bones, the mud and chill peeling away like flaking parchment.
Her clothes dried, her skin no longer prickled with cold, and even her hair felt smooth and clean once more.
“Thank you.” Alena patted down her hair, then cleared her throat. “I’m?—”
“Andrasta’s daughter.”
Alena faltered. Of course the goddess would know—but hearing it spoken aloud still rattled her.
“You look so much like your mother.” The White Mare’s expression softened, the corners of her mouth curving with unexpected warmth.
Brennus, chief of the Green Mountains Tribe, had spoken those same words to Alena the summer before. But from the goddess who’d once Gifted Andrasta and known her for years, the sentiment carried a weight that made her mother feel almost within reach.
A fierce longing hit her like a fist to the gut. The White Mare had spent years alongside her mother. How much time had Andrasta spent with Alena? A few months, Phoebe had said. A single season, before passing her off to Damocles. A sliver of time so pitifully small it seemed more like an insult than a blessing.
Questions twisted inside her, coiling tighter and tighter until it hurt to breathe. Had Andrasta’s hands trembled when she let her go? What had her mother been thinking during those moments? Was it a choice that tore her apart? Had she even cried?
Alena forced herself to swallow the bitterness, her nails digging into her palms to keep her emotions at bay.
Breaking down now would do nothing.
Instead, she focused on the surrounding marshlands. A dozen slaughtered cattle lay in a circle, their bodies slumped in the mud. Blood seeped into the water, staining it a sickly crimson. At the centre of the carnage gleamed a silver crown, untouched amid the filth.
Bile prickled at the back of Alena’s throat. “Is that what Volcos offered you?”
“Yes,” the White Mare replied, following her gaze with a delicate pout, as if the bloodied offering were an insult to her senses. “The tribes hold trials to determine their leader, and he proved himself worthy. His sacrifice… Well, it was rather excessive, but I do enjoy a pretty crown.”
“Trials?” Alena echoed. The marshland’s chill seeped through her boots while the White Mare stood with effortless grace atop a patch of mossy ground, her bare feet unbothered by the slick mud and brackish water.
“To test the strength of his heart.”
“Did my mother take part in trials as well?” What kind of tests had Andrasta endured to prove herself worthy?
The White Mare nodded, the blossoms tangled in her silver hair swaying with the movement. “Of course. And she was magnificent. The fiercest soul I’d ever seen.”
“And you would have me do the same?”
“Oh no, child.” The goddess reached for Alena’s left hand, her warm fingers tracing the golden Mark. “You are the Omega. You were not the child destined to take your mother’s place as the new leader.”
Alena’s heart sank, the truth she’d been seeking finally revealing itself. “Katell. It was supposed to be her.”
Her sister should’ve been the one to meet the goddess and carry on their mother’s legacy. Instead, Katell had joined the enemy, accepting Dalmatius’ lies as though they were salvation.
“You’re the one who Gifted her.” Alena’s knees ached from the cold seeping through her skin, but the chill was nothing compared to the hollow ache blooming in her chest.
Nik had been right. The Mark on Katell’s neck belonged to the White Mare.
“Yes.” The goddess released Alena’s hand. The reeds swayed around them, their dry rustling tangled with the low croaks of frogs and the restless sigh of a chill breeze. “Your mother begged me to hide her true nature, and so I did. Katell bears my Mark, but only a fraction of my magic. I had always hoped that one day she would come to me to claim your mother’s torc.”
Alena’s chest tightened. She’d been right—the torc had never been meant for her. It had always belonged to Katell.
But it was the other words that sent her stomach lurching and her thoughts scattering. “Did you say… her true nature?”
