Katell paced the length of her cell, her mind racing.
The room was far nicer than any place she’d ever stayed—certainly better than the draughty tent back in the snow-covered legion camp. The mattress was soft, and the food was more than passable.
But comfort didn’t change the fact that she was a prisoner.
A gilded cage was still a cage.
What gnawed at her more than the lack of interrogation or threats was Alena’s absence. Over a day had passed without a glimpse of her sister, and the silence was suffocating.
The chain around her ankle scraped against the stone floor with each step. She eyed the burnished gold shackles on her wrists for the dozenth time, still hoping for some flaw, some crack—but there was none. Without a key, there was no escape.
Her magic was blocked.
At least her mind was her own again. She hadn’t realised how deeply the Tears had warped her until the withdrawal hit—shivering despite the heat, drenched in sweat, slipping in andout of consciousness. The haze had finally lifted, but the memory of that cold, helpless state lingered.
She would speak to Dorias. He needed to understand what the Tears truly were. Gifted or not, they were dangerous—far more than anyone admitted. She vowed never to take them again.
Katell dropped onto the bed, her foot tapping impatiently against the stone floor. Her polished black breastplate leaned against the wall, returned at dawn with the rest of her uniform. She had changed the moment the guard left.
She refused to be seen in that plain tunic again—stripped of rank, of power, of identity. Not after the Achaeans had witnessed her at her weakest. They needed a reminder of exactly who stood before them.
She was Praefect Viridia of the Sixth Legion. Commander of the Black Helmets.
Her thoughts turned to Dorias. What would he make of her current situation? Would he be disappointed in her? She had infiltrated Tiryns, but instead of reporting back to the Twelfth, she’d ended up in chains.
What would he expect her to do? Assassinate the queen herself?
The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.
I see history is repeating itself.
She remembered little of her first encounter with Nik and Leukos—her mind fractured and scattered by the Tears—but she recalled the brief, raw glimpse into the past Nik had shared. There had always been a haunted look in his eyes, a shadow that lingered just beneath the surface, and now she understood why. She didn’t pity him, but she felt a deeper sense of recognition of the pain that had shaped him into who he was.
He hadn’t come to visit her either. Not that it mattered. He didn’t owe her anything; they weren’t exactly friends. And yet,she found herself missing his presence more than she cared to admit. Every day he had come, and though she would never say it out loud, she’d begun to expect him. Each time the lock turned, her stomach twisted with anticipation, and when his dirty blond hair and lopsided grin appeared, her nerves fluttered.
His presence unsettled her, as if nothing had changed since Bruna. Somehow, the bond they’d forged in the depths of the arena still lingered.
And that scared her more than the chains, because her loyalty belonged to Dorias. He had been her anchor in a world that had torn her apart. He’d helped her piece herself back together, and she’d pledged herself to him. She would follow him into battle, no matter the cost.
So why did her heart still race when Nik was near?
Why did his teasing smile stir her in a way Dorias’ steady gaze never had?
Outside, the sun dipped low, casting golden and copper light through the narrow windows of her cell. The warm glow spilled across the stone walls, softening their edges.
Katell rose to light the oil lamps, her pulse quickening at the sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor. Perhaps Alena had finally come?
The door creaked open, and when Katell glanced over her shoulder, her breath caught.
Nik stepped inside, tall and imposing, his broad shoulders wrapped in dark blue fabric and fitted leather. The contrast made his sun-kissed hair seem brighter, his blue eyes more arresting than ever.
“Kat,” he greeted, his tone unusually grave as he scanned the small space for something—or someone. “Alena isn’t here yet?”
Katell frowned. “No. Why?”
“She asked me to meet her here.”
“I haven’t seen her in two days.” The flicker of concern that crossed his face gave her pause. “What’s going on?”
