His gaze found mine, and for once it wasn’t the hungry, taking look that always made my skin crawl. His brown eyes softened, unexpectedly tender … and he smiled.
I found myself staring at his mouth, startled by how different that smile looked now, without courtiers watching, without a goblet in his fist or blood in the air. It was unguarded. Real, maybe. Less modeled from arrogance and more like something human.
For the first time, I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to look away.
“For a moment,” he murmured, “I wondered if I might lose you.”
The warmth in his tone also caught me off guard and surprise fluttered in my chest. He almost sounded … sincere.
“I—” My throat caught. “I’m fine.”
His gaze skimmed over me, lingering with an appreciation that made the room feel too small. “I can see that,” he said, and the words felt like a caress.
He crossed to the bed, his steps unhurried, and extended a hand. It took me a moment to realize he was offering to help me up.
I hesitated, then slipped my fingers into his. His palm was warm and dry, his grip surprisingly measured, like he wanted to reassure rather than dominate. “You look stronger already,” he said as he guided me upright with a care that startled me. “And you should be the first to see what you have done.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t loosen his grip as he led me toward the balcony. Our fingers remained intertwined, his touch lingering like he thought I might vanish if he let go. The doors groaned wide as he pushed them open, spilling sunlight over the threshold and flooding the room with warmth.
Outside, the marble terrace overlooked his rose garden. Crimson blooms ran wild in their perfect rows, bending beneath the morning breeze. Their perfume rose in waves, thick and heady, as if the whole world were blooming for this moment.
But on the other side of the garden walls, a narrow road, different from the one I’d come to the palace on, cut through the landscape along the coast. And along that road were … wagons. Dozens of them, maybe more, each stacked high.
My fingers curled around the balcony’s edge as I stared at men and women in palace colors moving quickly among them, securing crates, tying down barrels, lifting sacks of grain. I spotted folded linen, jars of medicine, tools, flour sacks marked with the seal of Sparta’s royal storehouse. All of it was being loaded onto carts under the morning sun.
“For Amyklai,” the king said, his voice soft but proud. “The first shipment rolls out before midday. More will follow.”
I stared at him, unable to speak for a moment as a fierce, impossible relief swept through me. My knees went weak, unmoored by the enormity of what he’d just vowed. “You … You’re sending supplies?”
His smile widened. “It’s what was promised, isn’t it?” He took a step closer, his voice still warm. “And I always keep my promises.”
Tears burned my eyes before I could stop them. I nodded, unable to speak. I could see Calismae’s face in my mind as the wagons came to a stop in front of the manor. How proud she’d be.
Come back with your shield or on it, she’d told me.
I’d done just that.
He was watching me with something like satisfaction. “I knew you would be queen the first night I saw you,” he said. “The Trials simply revealed what was already true.”
My gaze kept darting to the supplies, to the promise of food and healing, then back to him, my heart thundering with a happiness so fierce it almost hurt. A sound escaped me, half laugh, half sob. “Thank you.”
He grinned, the expression transforming him. “It’s the least I can do for the woman who reminded us what Sparta could be.”
I stared at him, almost awestruck. For a moment, he wasn’t the god on the dais who’d watched me like I was a piece of strategy. A possession. A thing to be won and wielded. He wasn’t the king draped in crimson, tipping back his goblet as girls dropped like flies before him.
I was seeing something else entirely, a different future, impossible yet suddenly near. A future where he wasn’t a throne or a threat … but a partner. Someone I could have built something with. Someone I could have stood beside without fear.
It left me unsteady, and I didn’t know what to say. The words wouldn’t come. My throat felt scraped raw by everything I’d endured over the last month, and all I could do was nod, the movement slight and delayed, like I was afraid to shatter the moment if I moved too quickly.
I hadn’t expected kindness from him. Not ever. But here it was, unexpected and disarming. I turned back toward the wagons, thinking that for the first time since I’d walked into this cursed palace, a faint strand of peace was draped across my shoulders.
My village would survive.
I imagined the moment when the wagons arrived in Amyklai. The way the children would run to meet them, barefoot and wide-eyed. I could almost hear Calismae’s disbelieving laugh cutting through the stunned hush as barrels were opened and food was lifted high into trembling hands as they realized I’d won.
I pictured the way the hunger might lift, not just from their bellies, but from their souls.
