Leukos froze—barely managing to keep himself level. He didn’t need to ask who Nik meant.
“Who?” Charis demanded, bunching the folds of her chiton in one hand. “Who’s here?”
But Leukos was already moving, striding out of the Great Hall and heading straight for the gates.
His footsteps pounded across the mosaic floor, his pulse a roar in his ears.
Alena.
“Leukos, wait!” Charis called, panic fraying her voice.
He stopped in the corridor, chest heaving, and turned.
She stood just behind, guards flanking her in tense silence. “You cannot open the gate.” A silent, almost desperate plea undercut her words, reminding him how close they’d once been—how he owed her his life for taking him in all those years ago, when the Emperor had hunted him relentlessly. “The gods will curse you.”
Her chin puckered, trembling with unspoken fears. A better man would have offered comfort or reassurances to quell her worries. All he could muster was a bittersweet smile. “They already have.”
He turned away and hurried down the grand staircase towards the outer courtyard, taking the steps two at a time.
“Leukos!”
But he didn’t stop. Nik’s words echoed through his head.She’s here. She’s alive.
His foolish heart soared, but he needed to be certain.
He needed to see Alena with his own eyes.
He charged across the courtyard. A strong wind blew from the ramparts, warm and slick, unusual for this time of year.
On either side of the path, water trickled from twin marble fountains: one of the Sea God encircled by nymphs, the other of the Grey-Eyed Maiden in full battle regalia, flanked by the winged goddess of victory.
Raw magic thickened the air, clogging his throat. Was that Alena’s magic? When had it grown so powerful?
The gate loomed ahead. On the ramparts, Danaos stood with archers poised to loose their arrows.
“Hold your weapons!” Leukos ordered.
Danaos spun, his brow furrowing—until his gaze darted past Leukos to the grand staircase. Fear flickered across his face.
“Queen Charis! Go back inside!” he barked.
But the wind howled louder, drowning his shout. Each gust tore across the courtyard, snatching at hair, robes, and banners. Charis pressed forward anyway, skirts whipping, her guards tight around her.
Despoina stood below her with arms outstretched, trying to block the way. Behind them, the palace had emptied—nobles and guests spilling onto the steps, wide-eyed, drawn by the rising storm.
Philistos, red-faced from chasing the queen, spotted Leukos and roared, “Do not let the prince open the gate! He will doom us all!”
The guards lunged, racing towards him from both sides.
“Seize him!” Danaos shouted. “Protect the queen!”
The wind slammed against the wooden gate.
Leukos halted. A dozen guards closed in, spears angled. If any touched him, they were finished.
He summoned his Gift, ice-blue light flaring in his palms. “Let me pass.”
The guards faltered, their pace slowing at the sight of the cold blaze in his hands.
