Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
NIKANDER
When Nik reached the towering sandstone columns of Tiryns’ palace, his tunic was damp with sweat, and a layer of dust clung to his skin.
Theo stood waiting in the shade, arms crossed, crisp from council meetings instead of training.
The pillars rose around them, wide enough for three men to stand shoulder to shoulder and taller than the sacred pines of Megara.
“I see we’ve both been summoned,” Nik said, still catching his breath from the training yard. “What do you think our fearless leader wants this time?”
He’d been mid-drill with Pelagios and the Tirynthian recruits when a messenger had appeared with nothing more than a curt nod towards the palace.
Theo said nothing at first, leading the way through the palace in polished armour and deep Megarian blue.
Nik fell into step beside him. Their footsteps echoed through the hall, and the courtyards they passed were nearly deserted.
Most of the guards were either training outside or posted along the city walls, eyes fixed on the Twelfth Legion camped just beyond the Maiden’s Barrier.
“I have a feeling it’s about his Gift,” Theo said at last, a shadow of unease passing over him.
Nik stopped short. “His Gift?”
When they’d first arrived, Queen Charis had welcomed them with open arms. After months of council deliberation through the winter, Tiryns and Megara had agreed to join forces against the Empire, sealing their alliance with the wedding of Charis and Leukos on the day of the spring equinox.
Everything hinged on Leukos.
He was their rallying point, his ice magic the rebellion’s strongest weapon. Nik had seen arena champions rise and fall, but none had matched Leukos in raw power or control. Without him, the rebellion would collapse.
“What’s wrong with his Gift?”
Theo slowed, then turned to face him, jaw tight. “It’s waning.”
Nik let out a sharp breath, raking a hand through his hair. “Twelve be damned.”
“I only found out yesterday,” Theo said, rubbing the back of his neck with genuine concern. “Pelagios mentioned Leukos hasn’t used his magic at all during training. I noticed it, too, when we sparred—he was holding back. I pressed him on it, and he grudgingly admitted it.”
Of course, he had. Theo, blessed by the Grey-Eyed Maiden with wisdom and far too much persistence, could pry the truth out of a rock. Even someone like Leukos didn’t stand a chance.
“Didn’t you notice anything?” Theo asked.
Nik realised he hadn’t seen Leukos wield ice in days. Not during training. Not even during their spars. How had he missed it?
He frowned. “Why is it fading?”
“Think about it.” Theo motioned down the corridor for them to keep walking.
The hollow thud of their steps filled the hall, masking their voices.
They couldn’t risk being overheard—not with the wedding still days away and the alliance hanging by a thread.
“You said he raised a wall of ice at the hillfort, and that it brought him to his knees. You had to help him stand.”
Nik’s stomach tightened.
“He must’ve burned through a massive amount of magic, and you know the gods always demand something in return,” Theo went on. “But when’s the last time you saw him make an offering?”
Nik searched his memory. Nothing. They’d been on the road for days, travelling from the Western Lands to Tiryns, and not once had Leukos stopped to make a sacrifice. Even when Pelagios led prayers to the Twelve, Leukos had stayed silent.
“The North Wind could be different. Maybe he doesn’t require the same kind of worship.” The suggestion was wishful thinking, and they both knew it.
Theo shook his head. “I doubt it. His mother, Queen Zeuxippe, prayed morning and night, and sacrificed a white bull to the North Wind at the turn of every season. And remember Nisos?”
Nik nodded. Nisos, the Silver Shield who had trained both Leukos and his brother Galen from an early age. Nik had expected to find him among the rebels until Pelagios quietly revealed that the Blood Wolf had killed him.
“He used to hound Leukos about being better at worshipping the gods,” Theo continued. “But since his death, I don’t think Leukos has made any effort. It’s no surprise his Gift is suffering as a result.”
“Fuck.” Nik resumed his pace, eager to find Leukos and knock some sense into him. “Why can’t he send up a prayer to the old goat once in a while?”
Theo’s lips twitched. “They can hear you, you know.”
“Who?” Nik asked, raising an eyebrow. “The gods? You think some old Thracian god is going to swoop down from the sky and punish me for calling him ‘an old goat’? The gods haven’t shown themselves to anyone in years. The only one who has even seen one of the Achaean Twelve is—”
He broke off, the name catching in his throat. A familiar ache tightened in his chest. Memories of a brave girl with shimmering green eyes who claimed she’d met the Huntress in person flickered through his mind.
“Alena,” Theo said quietly.
Nik nodded, swallowing hard. She’d promised to come back. Said she needed time to train and grow stronger. Yet months had passed, and not a single word. He missed her, and so did Leukos.
Although his friend never spoke of her, Nik saw it in the quiet way he moved through his days—the brooding silences, the way his gaze searched for her among the crowd when they walked the city streets. Leukos missed her, whether he admitted it or not.
They continued down the hall in silence.
The palace reminded Nik of Megara, its layout nearly identical. But where Megara’s halls were carved from marble and glittered with mosaics, Tiryns was all sandstone and painted frescoes. Every wall bore scenes of Achaean legends; every corner, a god in stone.
The Grey-Eyed Maiden favoured Tiryns, shielding it with an unbreakable barrier so long as a Gifted royal sat on the throne, the protection held.
Beyond that invisible wall, Rasennan barricades sliced through the valley. Their tents spread across the hills like mould, choking the land. Tiryns had become the new Megara: surrounded, besieged, with nowhere for Queen Charis and her people to run.
The walls enclosed a little farmland, a scattering of fruit and olive trees that bore endlessly, a Gift from the Giver, but even so, food was scarce.
The palace, however, never seemed to go without. There was always plenty of food on the table, even fresh meat now and then.
Two figures clad in Achaean steel scale armour, marked with Tirynthian amber geometric patterns, appeared at the corridor’s end and halted.
Nik swore under his breath.
“Still avoiding them?” Theo asked quietly.
“I’ve already heard every insult from just about everyone since I arrived.” He let out a sharp breath. There was no way around the two figures closing in. “Whatever those two have to say will be worse.”
Theo studied him for a moment with that familiar gaze, wise and thoughtful, like the goddess who’d Gifted him. “They’re still your kin, Nik. The only ones you have left.”
Nik grumbled. The rebellion was his family now—Leukos, Theo, Alena… Even the gentle San and her turbulent boy, Kaixo, had grown on him.
The twins blocking the hall ahead might be his cousins on his father’s side, but he hadn’t seen them in years. Like many Achaeans, their parents had fled to Tiryns after the loss at the Battle of Kendrisia, and as nobles with the Messenger as their patron, they’d been welcomed into the palace.
Danaos had risen to general in the army; Despoina trained as a palace guard. Nik’s father had once told him of their rare Gift—the ability to transport others across great distances—but Nik had never witnessed it.
“Cousin, you finally make an appearance.” Danaos’ voice was curt.
His blue eyes, the same rare shade as Nik’s, were believed to be a trait specific to the descendants of the gods.
However, Argos, the city where Nik’s family originated, had a busy port that drew traders from across the Great Sea, many with light eyes and fair hair.
Nik had no desire to dwell on the past. He didn’t know what his cousin wanted, and he wasn’t about to stick around to find out. “We’ve been summoned by our prince.”
He started to move past, but Danaos caught him with a firm hand on his chest. “Not so fast. We haven’t seen you in years, and this is how you greet us?”
Despoina stepped forward, her golden hair held back in a tight braid. “Brother,” she hissed. “Not now.”
Nik met Danaos’ glare head-on. “And how exactly do you want to be greeted?”
Danaos’ fingers clenched, grabbing a fistful of Nik’s tunic. “Do you know how hard it’s been for us all these years?”
“Enough.” Despoina’s eyes flicked down the empty hall, though no one was near.
“Cousins to the traitor?” Danaos spat, never breaking eye contact. “When you aided in the Megarian massacre, your actions dishonoured our family. Yet, you don’t seem to care.”
Nik gave him a humourless laugh and shoved Danaos’ hand away. They knew so little. “You’re right. I don’t.”
Theo shook his head beside him. “Nik—”
But Nik had already stepped away. Danaos wanted an apology or words of remorse, and he had none to give. Those words belonged to Leukos, not to his cousins, who didn’t know the first thing about that terrible night.
Danaos moved to block him again, face hardening, voice rising. “Your betrayal nearly killed our parents. Our family’s still stained because of you. I may be a general, but I have no title to pass on, and Despoina will never get a marriage proposal.”
Nik clenched his jaw, swallowing his fury.
“Forgive me,” he said at last, his voice cold and flat.
“When I watched the Megarians get slaughtered before my eyes and realised I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life, clearly I should’ve been thinking about my cousins in Tiryns.
Perhaps my father might have reminded me about the impact of my actions on our family had he not fucking killed himself by the time I’d returned home. ”
Danaos stiffened. Despoina gasped.