He exhaled roughly, the rigid set of his shoulders easing—as if her safety meant more than the storm still raging inside him.
The chaos of the camp faded until only the two of them remained in that fragile pocket of stillness.
He sat back on his haunches, jaw tight as if wrestling with words too heavy to speak. Midnight hair fell across his eyes, shadowing his face. At last, he said, “You saw the massacre.”
Alena’s chest ached at the rawness in his tone. “Yes.”
His hands curled into fists. When he finally looked up, his dark eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “I’m sorry you had to see it. No one should… especially not you.”
She shook her head, something swelling inside her she hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. “I’m not sorry,” she said softly. “For better or worse, it’s part of you. It shaped you into the man you are. And… I think seeing it helped me understand the darkness inside you a little better.”
His breath caught, and for a moment she thought he might pull away. Instead, the wall he’d kept for so long cracked, and he drew her into a tight embrace.
Alena melted against him, her arms circling his waist, his warmth seeping into her. Tension slowly drained from his frame as his forehead came to rest on her shoulder. His breath was shaky against her neck, uneven at first, then gradually steadying.
In his arms, she felt safe—like she had finally found her way home.
And then, in a voice so quiet it nearly disappeared into the silence, Leukos whispered, “Thank you.”
She closed her eyes, grounding herself in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. In the heavy hush that followed, full of unspoken words and shared pain, one truth settled in with undeniable clarity.
She loved him.
She’d loved him for longer than she dared admit.
And she needed to tell him. She would find the right moment, the first chance she got. He was free now, unshackled from the vow to Charis that had stood between them. Everything about the way he shielded her, the way his gaze lingered as though she were his whole world, proved his feelings hadn’t changed since last summer. He had to feel the same. He?—
Without warning, he stiffened. Muscles coiled. His breath hitched. “Fuck.”
In a sharp, almost frantic motion, he tore himself from her arms and shoved her back. A deep frown cut across his face, all the warmth of moments ago swallowed by cold, impenetrable tension.
“Leukos, what’s?—”
She stopped.
An unnatural chill crept across her shoulders.
Her stomach dropped as frost feathered over the straps of her armour, delicate veins of ice spreading across the mother-of-pearl surface.
His magic was slipping again.
“Leukos,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice calm.
“Twelve be damned!” He slammed his fist into the frozen ground, jagged cracks of ice splintering outwards. Then he was on his feet, frustration radiating from every line of him. “Nik!”
Nik was at Alena’s side in an instant, his gaze settling on the frosted straps of her armour. “It’s all right,” he breathed, his voice a balm. “The ice didn’t touch your skin.”
She nodded faintly, her focus shifting back to Leukos. A knot tightened in her stomach at the sudden, painful rift between them. Once more, he stood apart, distant. She swallowed hard, fighting back the lump in her throat as she grasped Nik’s hand and pushed herself to her feet. The frost on her armour was already melting, but deep inside, the cold lingered.
Leukos’ eyes were shadowed, his body still—locked in an invisible struggle beneath the surface. Then the thunder of galloping hooves shattered the silence, drawing every gaze to the broken gate.
Theo squinted towards the riders as they came into view. “It’s Danaos and Despoina,” he announced. “They’ve returned with more men.”
“Finally,” Nik muttered.
Danaos led the charge, his horse crashing through the shattered entrance before pulling up sharply. His piercing blue eyes swept over the devastation. “What in the name of all the gods happened here?” he demanded, fixing his gaze on them.
His arrival rallied the remaining Achaean soldiers, who converged around him. Despoina dismounted, flanked by two healers who immediately set to work—one rushing to Phoebe, who leaned heavily on Pelagios for support.
