Katell stood her ground, only raising an eyebrow in defiance.
But Nik’s pulse stuttered. Theo had warned him of this manifestation of Leukos’ ice magic. In close quarters, it could tear flesh from bone in seconds.
When Leukos stepped forward, Nik moved without thinking, grabbing his shoulder, careful to avoid bare skin.
“Leukos…” he said tightly, trying to bring him back to his senses.
Only then did he realise his mistake. He’d used his right hand, exposing the frost crawling up his arm.
Katell’s gaze flicked down. Concern pierced through her anger. “What’s wrong with your arm?” she asked. Even in her agitation, she missed nothing.
Leukos jerked back, and the magic broke with him. The icicles dropped like shattered glass, melting on the stone floor.
Nik released his grip and stepped back, ignoring Katell’s question. He crossed his arms again, subtly shielding himself from further scrutiny.
“He’s not the one you should be worried about,” Leukos answered in a glacial tone.
A cold silence stretched between them.
Katell’s throat bobbed. Her gaze fell to the floor, but not before Nik caught the flicker of remorse ghost across her features.
Then, quietly, she asked, “Where is she?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
NIKANDER
Leukos shot her a dark look, frustration clouding his expression before he turned away with a sharp click of his tongue. Without a word, he strode from the room.
Nik let out a long sigh and dragged a hand down his face. If Leukos had lost control—if he’d touched Katell while she couldn’t access her magic—this entire meeting might’ve ended in disaster.
He glanced at his arm. The frost had vanished, revealing once more the North Wind’s ice-blue Mark shimmering beneath.
“We don’t know,” he said at last. Then, more gently, “But Alena’s not alone. She’ll be back.”
It was the best he could offer, and it seemed to reach her, at least enough that she turned away and sank onto the edge of the bed. Her fingers clutched the fur blanket, knuckles white, her left leg bouncing with restless energy.
“I didn’t take his offer lightly,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “Dalmatius. I was afraid Alena might still be out there. Little star, looking for me. All alone.”
The words pierced straight through him.
She swatted damp strands of hair from her face, her movements jerky. “But my Gift was out of control.” Her eyes met his, fever-bright. “And he offered to help.”
Nik dragged the lone stool closer, the scrape of wood on stone loud in the silence. He owed her more than distance and doubt. He’d let her walk away once, believing it was what she needed. But now, seeing her unravel, he couldn’t turn away again. Not this time.
He sat, leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees.
“Kat. Talk to me.” His words came out steady, though his chest felt tight. “What’s wrong?”
He tried to keep calm, but the tremor in her hands was impossible to miss. The restless bounce of her leg. The way her words shifted from guarded to panicked, as if she couldn’t find solid ground.
Something was very wrong.
She blinked at him, pupils blown. As if suddenly aware of her behaviour, she clasped her trembling hands together, trying to still them by force. “Nothing.” A lie. “I just need my belongings. They took a vial from me, and I need it.”
A vial?
Nik’s stomach dropped like stone. Dalmatius and the Sixth be damned, what had they been giving her?
