His gaze stayed locked on the watchtower, where the soldiers had already spotted them. Almost fifty men stood at his back, ready to take on one of the fiercest cohorts in the Rasennan army.
Fifty against five hundred.
He could almost hear the enemy’s laughter, a taunt that mocked their numbers.
Beside him, Nik and Theo shifted in their saddles, the tension palpable. Magic surged through Leukos’ veins, a violent torrent aching to be released. But first, he had to draw as many men to the gate as possible. The rescue party’s success depended on it.
Nik scratched the scruff on his jaw, breaking the silence. “You sure you can do this? Freeze the palisade?”
Leukos shot him a dark look. “Don’t insult me.”
“Because we’ve all heard about your performance issues,” Nik went on with a smirk, “so if you’d rather sit this one out?—”
“Say another word and I’ll freeze something other than your tongue,” he growled. Only Nik would crack jokes on the edge of battle.
Theo snorted. “You freeze anything down there, and the ladies will riot.”
“Oh, I think Nik’s only got one woman on his mind,” Leukos said.
Nik crossed his arms, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Theo’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned over his horse to get a better look at him. “Wait… Are you talking about Alena’ssister? The praefect? No chance. She’d chew you up and spit you out?—”
Nik’s grin widened, and Leukos could practically hear the lewd remark brewing—until the cohort leader appeared at the top of the watchtower, distinguished by his red armband. The banter died instantly.
“Here we go,” Leukos muttered, dismounting.
Nik and Theo followed, flanking him while Pelagios stayed back with the men.
As they approached, a line of Rasennan archers emerged, bows drawn. A cold wind rustled their feathered shafts, but not a man wavered.
Leukos halted, narrowing his eyes at the cohort leader perched in the watchtower.
“Well, boys,” the man called out in Rhaetic, his grin a smug slash across his face. “I’ve heard the Tirynthians were brave, but I didn’t know they couldn’t count.”
Laughter rippled through the Rasennan ranks. At least a hundred soldiers stood ready. Not enough. Leukos needed the entire camp’s attention.
“I’ll only say this once,” he declared, his voice carrying across the rampart. “Surrender now, and you’ll be spared. Your leader is an idiot who’s led you to your doom. Drop your weapons, and you may live.”
Theo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Leukos…”
The cohort leader’s smirk snapped into a snarl, his face mottling red. “Who are you calling an idiot when you’re about to be annihilated?”
Leukos held his ground, magic simmering just beneath the surface. A cold, ice-blue glow spread over him, frost gathering in the air. “I am Leukos, third prince of Megara, rightful heir to the throne, and leader of the Achaean rebellion.” The chill deepened, ice crystals blooming across the earth. “And your time to surrender is over.”
“Oh, shit…” Nik whispered, backing away.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then the cohort leader snapped to life. “Archers! Fire at will!”
A wave of arrows darkened the sky, raining down towards them. Leukos didn’t so much as blink. The ice crystals swirling around him whipped into a cyclone, spinning at impossible speed.
“Kill anyone who gets past me,” he told Nik and Theo, his voice as cold as the storm inside him.
He raised his hand. With a single flick, a barrage of jagged ice shards tore upwards, shredding the arrows apart in a glittering explosion of frost and splinters.
Two horns blared from the palisade, their warning echoing through the camp. Another volley arced overhead. Leukos barely spared it a glance as the icy vortex around him thickened, turning every shaft that neared into frozen dust.
The Rasennan soldiers faltered, unease flickering across their faces.
