Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
LEUKOS
Leukos knelt beside his lifeless mother and dipped his hand into the pool of her blood, the dark liquid cold and sticky against his skin.
He knew this place. Knew the silence. It was the dream again—the same nightmare that returned night after night, as vivid as the day it first unfolded. The moment was etched into his soul, carved into the marrow of his bones.
The beginning of everything that followed.
He raised his blood-slicked hand to the sky, invoking all the gods to bear witness.
“One day, I will make Emperor Tarquinius pay for this,” he whispered, his voice raw.
“He will pay for everything he took from me.” Tears fell, mingling with the blood at his knees.
“There is nothing left for me but vengeance. I will not stop. No matter the cost, he will pay. I promise you, Mother.”
As always, his gaze drifted to her vacant eyes—their glassy stare fixed on the blood-spattered ceiling. That image, frozen in time, followed him even into waking: a hollow look that knew neither peace nor farewell.
He would never escape it.
Queen Zeuxippe, beloved by all and Gifted by the North Wind.
And yet in her final moments, the Thracian god had failed her.
The assassins had struck without mercy, plunging their blades into her chest and stomach nearly a dozen times.
Blood soaked the marble floor, sprayed across silk sheets, and painted her chamber in a grotesque mural of violence and death.
It was only when Pelagios seized him by the scruff of his tunic and dragged him from her body that Leukos caught movement in the corner of his eye. A small figure, smeared in blood, crouched against a wooden chest, quivering with fear.
The only survivor of the massacre.
Pelagios spoke first. “Nikander?” he said, squinting through the gloom. “Is that you, boy? What are you doing here?”
Nik’s eyes were blown wide, two blue marbles adrift in a sea of red.
His mouth opened, but no sound came at first. Then, in a fractured whisper: “They… they killed everyone. I didn’t know…
I didn’t know what they were going to do.
” He stumbled forward, legs buckling. Collapsing to his hands and knees, he shook violently, his blood-smeared gaze locking on Leukos—pleading, desperate.
“By the Achaean Twelve, I swear I didn’t know… ”
“Save it,” Pelagios barked. He glanced towards the door, gesturing sharply. “The soldiers could return any moment. We need to move.”
But Nik didn’t hear him, lost in his own daze, still staring at Leukos. “Father never said what they planned to do… He told me to lead them through the sewers, but he never said they would kill… kill everyone…”
Silence fell, taut and cold.
Pelagios stilled, every muscle coiled. “What are you saying, boy?”
Nik lifted his head slowly, horror twisting his features. “I tried to stop them… I swear it.” He grabbed Leukos’ arm, his hands slick with blood. “Leukos… I swear it on my life, I didn’t—”
Realisation struck like lightning. Shock gaze way to a white-hot fury.
With a cry that ripped from his throat, Leukos slammed Nik back against the wooden chest, his forearm crushing his windpipe.
“You!” he screamed, his voice breaking with rage and betrayal. “You led them here?!”
Nik choked under the pressure. “L-Leukos—”
“Stop!” Pelagios shouted, lunging forward.
But Leukos fought him, thrashing against his grip.
“You traitor!” he roared. “By the Sea, I’ll kill you! I swear I will!”
Pelagios locked his arms around Leukos’ torso, dragging him back with brute force. “Enough! We don’t have time for this—we need to leave!”
“They’re coming!” Theo’s warning shout echoed from the corridor. “A dozen soldiers are headed this way!”
“Let’s go!” Pelagios hauled Leukos upright, never loosening his grip.
Leukos strained against him, his enraged screams shattering the deathly hush cloaking the Megarian Palace. “You were like my brother! She loved you like her own son! How could you do this to her?”
Nik cowered against the wooden chest, face streaked with blood and tears.
Leukos pointed to his mother’s lifeless body sprawled across the marble. “The gods will curse you for this, traitor,” he spat. “And if they don’t, I’ll gut you myself.”
He woke with a gasp, bolting upright in the dark. Sweat clung to his tunic, tears streaked his face, and his chest heaved as he pressed trembling hands to his eyes.
The dream again. The nightmare that never left him.
He sat in silence, the room dim and still but for the faint rustle of wind outside. His heartbeat thudded in his ears.
The nightmares had worsened since reaching Tiryns—Charis, the frescoes, the palace. Every corner clawed at old wounds.
Nothing had ever quieted the void in his chest. Nothing but Alena.
And now she was gone, too.
He was alone again with the ghosts of Megara, the blood of his family, and the weight of everything left undone.
Grinding his teeth, he wiped his face with the back of his hand and forced the trembling to stop.
He had no time to fall apart. Not anymore.
He had to be strong—for his dead parents, for Aegeus, for Galen still held by the Rasennans, and for the rebellion.
Beneath his grief, the fire of vengeance burned low but steady.
War was coming, and Achaea would prevail.
But first, Leukos needed to reclaim his Gift.
Leukos kept his eyes on the snow-covered mountainside ahead, boots crunching over ice, breath misting in the sharp air.
The trail wound between jagged rocks and frost-laced pines, each step carrying them closer to the windswept caves where an altar to the North Wind lay hidden.
His mother had shown him the path years ago—before everything had fallen apart.
He was reaching out with his senses, searching for that elusive tug of magic to guide him to the right place, when Nik broke the silence.
“So,” he said casually, “how long have you known about my cousin and the queen?”
Leukos glanced over his shoulder, keeping his face blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A lie. Danaos and Charis had been lovers for years, careful to keep their secret until now. Danaos had spent the morning hovering near Charis, stealing glances so often Leukos was surprised the whole Tirynthian court hadn’t caught on.
Nik narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even try. I saw the way they were looking at each other in the throne room.”
The blond wrapped his woollen cloak tighter, muttering under his breath. He hated the cold as much as Leukos loved it.
Leukos raised a brow. “Took you long enough to notice. Now I owe Theo money. He said you wouldn’t catch on until winter’s end. Pelagios even bet on spring.”
“Good to know my friends have been gambling on my cousin’s love affairs…” Nik shook snowflakes from his hair with a wry smile. “And it doesn’t bother you?”
“What do you want me to say?” Leukos shrugged, masking his frustration. The situation was complicated, but he’d always been clear with Charis—their wedding was purely political. He wasn’t interested in being her husband, and she was free to see Danaos.
Nik grabbed his arm, halting him mid-step. “She’s about to become your wife. And he’s a general in her army. Will you let them keep seeing each other?”
Leukos met his gaze, a dry smile tugging at his lips. “Why would I stop them?”
Nik’s frown deepened. “You can’t be that na?ve. The Council won’t like it, and the court will talk. They’ll call you weak.”
Leukos gave him a flat look.
“Fine, no one will think you’re weak,” Nik conceded with a sigh, “but you know what I mean. They’ll expect children.”
Leukos froze. He’d once dreamed of a boy with dark, obsidian hair and green eyes, the colour of fresh spring. The boy’s laughter had rung out as a little girl stumbled after him, auburn curls bouncing around her shoulders.
The dream should have unsettled him, but it hadn’t. Alena walked through his dreams most nights, leaving behind an odd comfort tangled with bittersweet longing.
“It doesn’t matter what they want,” he said, voice tight. “This marriage is a farce to unite our kingdoms against the Empire. Defeating the Emperor and saving Galen is what matters. The rest can wait.”
Nik seemed ready to argue but thought better of it as Leukos turned away.
They didn’t always get along, but Leukos was glad to have him at his side again.
When they’d reached Tiryns, both Megarians and Tirynthians had struggled to understand why he’d spared the traitor responsible for the massacre—let alone placed him on his council.
Leukos didn’t care. Nik had saved his life and Alena’s more than once last summer. He trusted him.
And Theo, too.
The three of them had grown up together, inseparable as children—his true brothers.
Aegeus, his elder brother, had always been a distant figure, more myth than man.
Constantly occupied with Silver Shield training or strategy meetings with their father, their rare encounters had been confined to stiff family meals at their mother’s insistence.
Aegeus was the perfect son, the warrior prince and heir who could do no wrong in their father’s eyes.
When he left for Kendrisia to battle the Rasennans, Leukos barely noticed.
Even after his return, with Megara under siege, he had remained as distant as ever—a presence glimpsed only in passing.
Galen, by contrast, had been a brother in every sense.
Thoughtful and kind, he had taken the time to be there for Leukos.
Born without a Gift and shunned by their father and court, Galen had trained daily with the sword and immersed himself in the study of Megarian politics.
He’d dedicated himself to becoming the advisor Aegeus would one day need, hoping loyalty and knowledge might compensate for his lack of magic.
Yet their father had offered no praise—only their mother soothed the deep anger and hurt that festered inside him.