He was gone.
I stayed where I was, lips tingling, skin still warm in the places his nearness had touched the air around me. Carefully, I folded myself back against the pillows, as if movement might crack me open farther.
But the ache didn’t fade.
It settled. It took root. It unfurled through my chest in painful blossoms, filling every hollow space he’d left behind.
And as the first pale light crept into the room, brushing the walls in soft relief, I knew I’d made the right choice.
I just wasn’t sure I’d survive it.
Chapter26
The doors opened with a loud grating sound as the guards ushered us into an enormous atrium. We hadn’t been to this area of the palace before, and as I stepped inside, my gaze swept over the room in wonder. Decadence clung to every surface. One gold vase alone could feed my village for years—maybe longer.
The room yawned wide and cold, its domed ceiling swallowed in shadow. Marble columns loomed along the edges, each etched with stone-carved effigies of Menelaus, whose eyes seemed to follow us, accusatory and unblinking. Low-burning torches lined the walls, their flames casting restless gold over obsidian tiles that mirrored our forms as we stepped forward.
Above us, voices chanted in a haunting harmony, the sound leaking through the cracks like the walls themselves had learned how to sing.
“You should say your prayers,” Chloé murmured under her veil, her smug voice carrying just enough to reach me. “I already know I’m going to win. My visit to the king’s chambers last night ensured that.”
I blinked.
Her … visit to the king’schambers?
Beside me, Anysa stiffened, her hands curling into tight fists at her sides.
“Are you sure that secured you anything?” Anysa whispered back, her voice deceptively sweet. “Considering we were all sworn to arrive untouched, I’d think bragging about spreading your legs would get you tossed from the Trials, not crowned. There’s also the fact that he now knows yourkýsthosdries out faster than fish left on a rock. He’s not going to want it again.”
Chloé jerked toward her, veil trembling with fury. “Whore,” she spat furiously. “You’ll choke on your own tongue before this Trial is done.”
“Whore.What an interesting choice of words,” Anysa said.
I ignored them both and glanced to the far end of the atrium, where the kingwaited atop a raised dais. Menelaus wore a jagged crown of gold today, the peaks like fangs, and a smile that curled like it knew something. Even at the last Trial, this still seemed like it was nothing but theater to him. A spectacle instead of the key to the woman who would be by his side. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as his advisors flanked him, robed in crimson, bristling with expectation, their gazes sharp and searching.
Had Chloé bought herself an edge? How much did a woman’skýsthosmean to the king when that was what we were all offering him at the end of this?
Before I could dwell on it, movement near the throne pulled my attention. Achilles was walking toward the king, spine straight, his steps sure and unhurried.
My breath faltered for an instant as I watched him hand Menelaus a wax tablet. Menelaus frowned at whatever was on it. He nodded and handed it back to Achilles, exchanging a few quiet words before Achilles moved toward the wall behind the king.
Achilles looked devastating. Beautiful in a way that made it hurt to look too long. Like something formed by the gods, all golden skin and broad shoulders, his jaw set with a quiet fury.
For a single heartbeat, I thought he might look at me again. Really look. The way he had in the dark, like I was the only thing that mattered.
But his gaze slid past me … completely indifferent. As if I were nothing at all.
The ache came fast and biting, landing in my chest like something had cracked. I felt it all. My stomach twisting, my eyes blinking too fast against the sting.
He was right not to look. It was what I had chosen. And still, I felt sick with it. Like some final, invisible thread had snapped.
I forced my chin higher, my steps steady as I crossed the atrium floor, but inside, I was splintering. If I were to stay at the palace … if I were to win … was this always how it would be? Always walking past him like he was nothing. Always pretending I didn’t feel the pull in my chest. Always swallowing words I had no right to say.
Was this what becoming queen meant? A future forged from silence and restraint, while the man who made my pulse misbehave stood only a breath out of reach? Or would it finally fade if we stayed away from each other long enough?
The High Priestess emerged from the shadows behind the king. The white robe she wore today was harsher than the other days, rigid, like armor sewn from sanctity. Golden bands encircled her wrists and throat, and ivory feathers crowned her headdress. She stopped a step behind the king.
The chanting abruptly cut off as Menelaus slowly rose.
