Her words broke off.
A sharp gasp escaped her, and her body seized, rigid against the chair. Her eyes flared open, the warm brown of her irises vanishing beneath a pearly-white ethereal light.
Leukos stepped back.
Around them, the lively chatter and music collapsed into silence.
Charis’ glowing eyes flicked side to side as though tracking something unseen—something far beyond the palace. It was her Gift from the Maiden, the one that allowed her to sense intruders breaching Tiryns’ barrier.
Leukos had glimpsed it only once before, from a distance, when Katell had crossed into the city. Seeing it up close, the hairs at the back of his neck rose.
His jaw clenched. What now?
The Great Hall held its breath.
Who had entered? Had the Rasennans found a way in?
Then Philistos’ voice boomed, shattering the silence like thunder. “The barrier has been breached!”
Gasps rippled along the banquet table as the guests surged to their feet.
Despoina was the first to move, sweeping to Charis’ side before turning to the guards. “Sound the alarm!”
The sharp blare of horns pierced the air, slicing through the growing panic. Then came the drums, reverberating off the palace walls—warning all of Tiryns of imminent danger.
The city was under attack.
Leukos didn’t move, not while Charis sat rigid in her throne, eyes still glowing as though the vision was searing her from within.
Then the light faded, and she collapsed into her seat, pale and trembling. Despoina brought a cup of water to her lips.
Leukos dropped to one knee, ignoring the chaos unfurling behind him. “Charis.” He leaned closer, careful not to touch her. “Are you all right? What did you see?”
Charis spoke between gasps, struggling to catch her breath. “Three people crossed the barrier… and animals… horses, I think.”
Leukos’ pulse quickened. Three? A scouting party? Or something worse?
“They’re on horseback,” Despoina snapped, already turning to the nearest guard. “Send word to the city—warn the people to hide! Find the intruders!”
“No!” Philistos surged forward, hands raised as if to block their path. “None may leave the palace.” He turned to Charis. “The gods are among us, Your Majesty. As long as the gates remain shut and the marriage ritual is completed, they will protect us—intruders or not.”
Charis, one hand pressed lightly to her chest, seemed more composed. She hesitated, glancing between the priest and nobles who were already murmuring in agreement, nodding like sheep hungry for divine favour.
She drew a long, measured breath, then lifted her chin, features settling into the serene, untouchable mask of a queen.“Philistos is right.” Her gaze met Leukos’, equal parts resolve and regret. “The gods expect a wedding, and so we must continue.”
But Leukos had reached his limit.
His blood boiled at the absurdity of it all—the gods, the ritual, the gates still sealed while the city was infiltrated. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he fought to hold his temper.
“The gods can wait.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned to the long banquet table, sweeping his gaze over the assembled rebels.
“Megarians, with me!” His command cut through the chatter.
Chairs scraped as the men rose at once, ready to follow him into battle. They had nearly reached the doors when Philistos’ voice rang out, sharp as a thrown dagger.
“Prince Leukos, are you defying the queen’s orders?” The priest’s words echoed through the Great Hall, loud enough for every guest to hear.
