She clasped her hands, knuckles pale, the only fracture in composure. “Thank you for your counsel. I will see you tomorrow for the wedding. Prince Leukos—if you will.”
Nik caught the fleeting glance she cast towards Danaos—quick, but unmistakably aching—before she swept from the chamber. Leukos followed, his shoulders squared with duty but shadowed by something heavier.
Nik watched them go, a knot tightening in his chest. When he caught Theo’s eye, his friend’s concern mirrored his own.
Trust Leukos to finally receive word of Alena the day before his wedding to another.
Twelve be damned. She’d returned too late.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LEUKOS
The palace gardens below bloomed with blood-red anemones and jasmine, and the air was alive with the melodic chirping of swallows. Spring had arrived, and it was a glorious day for a wedding. The sky stretched in a pristine blue, as if blessed by the gods.
A cold knot of dread clenched in Leukos’ gut as he stood on the open marble balcony of his chamber. The soft rustle of olive trees and the fragrant scent of myrtle drifting in did little to soothe his turmoil. They only reminded him of the sickly-sweet oils the priest, Philistos, had smeared across his skin during the pre-wedding rituals. Leukos had endured it in silence, jaw locked, stomach roiling.
If the gods were truly watching, he neither cared nor wanted their attendance. Their so-called blessings always came at a price, and he’d paid more than enough already.
Below, the palace gates were sealed—a symbolic gesture to keep the union private between the couple and the gods. But with the entire Tirynthian court packed inside, the notion of intimacy felt laughable.
Beyond the balcony, Tiryns stretched in a maze of white stone buildings. Paved roads teemed with vendors and chariots, all leading to the looming city walls, taller than any Leukos had ever seen.
Alena would have loved it.
The thought ambushed him, slipping past his resolve. She was always etched into his every moment, an unshakeable presence. But today…
A sharp emptiness blossomed within him.
Today, he would have to let her go.
He swallowed hard, the pain settling like a fresh scar over the countless others he carried in his heart. Invisible, but heavy. He would bear it, as he always did.
A prince of Megara had no other choice, his father had always said.
He turned from the breathtaking view and stepped inside. It was time to prepare. Thankfully, his rituals were far simpler than Charis’. As tradition demanded, the queen partook in a symbolic bath with water blessed by a local fertility goddess—a sacred ceremony layered with meaning. She would be dressed in elaborate finery, the traditional saffron-dyed veil draped over her. Later, they would meet before nobles and guests, a sea of strangers raising goblets in their name.
A celebration neither of them had asked for.
Then, come dusk, the actual wedding would follow in a more private setting, ending with Leukos leading Charis back to his chamber—where he intended to keep his distance, lest his uncontrollable magic turn his new wife to ice.
The thought of harming Charis or anyone else left a bitter taste in his mouth. He grasped the sides of the bronze basin in his chamber, the metal cool against his hands. His weary reflection stared back, dark circles etched beneath his eyes.
Alena had haunted his dreams the night before. She’d been seated in a dim, crumbling shack, moonlight filtering through cracked wooden slats. Her face was bathed in tears, her sobs echoing in his chest. A woman he didn’t recognise knelt beside her, murmuring softly and wrapping her in a fragile embrace.
Leukos had tried to step forward, to speak her name, but the dream shifted like sand beneath his feet.
He was back at the rebel camp. Through the trees, the damned fox waited, its golden gaze gleaming like a cruel reminder of Alena’s destiny. He had stood before her, words caught in his throat, but no matter what he said, it was never enough to make her stay.
You breathed life back into me, Alena.
By the Sea, she’d felt so real in his arms. Her warmth sank into him like sunlight through thawing ice. Her body pressed close to his, a blush blooming across her cheeks, her braid dishevelled after he’d run his fingers through it. He remembered the exact shade of the auburn strands framing her face, a blend of the burning flowers from the southern kingdoms and ruby-red amaranths. Her green eyes, glowing faintly with magic, had met his with a look that undid him every time.
He’d ached to kiss her again, to feel the softness of her lips and pretend, just for a heartbeat, that she was his.
In all the days they’d stolen together, he hadn’t kissed her nearly enough.
He’d been a fool.
