Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
NIKANDER
The palace prison looked more like a guest room than a holding cell.
Outside, two guards flanked a thick oak door banded with steel.
Inside, the room was small yet tidy, with a straw mattress tucked against one wall and a plain table beside it holding a ceramic basin and water jug.
Sunlight poured through two square windows, casting warm light across the floor and carrying in the delicate scent of blooming flowers from the courtyard below.
A solitary chair sat on the opposite side for visitors, but both Nik and Leukos ignored it, choosing to remain on their feet.
Dressed in a simple off-white linen tunic, Katell paced before her bed. Heavy gold manacles bound her wrists, blocking her magic. Another shackle clamped her ankle, its chain anchored to the wall.
Nik’s chest tightened at the sight of her.
He could still see the burns in his memory—raw, angry welts that had marred every inch of her skin after she crossed the Maiden’s barrier.
He’d been frantic when he realised she wasn’t healing.
He’d carried her back to the palace himself, blood smearing his tunic.
The healers had told him the barrier had drained her magic, making her wounds nearly impossible to mend.
Her braided hair had been so badly singed they’d cut off a chunk of it.
They’d worked through the night. By morning, her healing magic had finally stirred, sealing the worst of her injuries. She was whole again—at least in body.
Then Charis had given the order: manacles and confinement. The moment she could walk, Katell was locked away.
Nik had passed her door countless times in the last two days, each time wanting to see her healed with his own eyes. But the guards had been firm. Now, at last, he’d been granted permission.
A flicker of surprise broke through Katell’s guarded expression at the sight of him. Then her attention shifted to Leukos, who lingered behind Nik like a shadow, and her face sharpened into something colder.
Leukos said nothing. He leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He didn’t dare come any closer, not with his magic pulsing just beneath the surface, volatile and barely restrained.
It had returned far stronger than anyone expected. His power erupted unpredictably, and while he could keep it in check around objects, skin-to-skin contact unleashed frost that spread instantly. Something a hapless servant had learned.
Though the healers had saved the servant, Leukos hadn’t been the same since. Even his presence felt chilled, the air around him shimmering faintly, as if dusted with invisible frost, keeping everyone at arm’s length.
So Nik was the one to step forward, every muscle drawn tight. “Hello, Kat.”
She tilted her head, eyes sweeping over him in cool, appraising silence.
Gone were the familiar green tunics provided by his patroness in Bruna.
Now he stood before her in a deep blue tunic, the fabric crisp beneath a new set of leather armour.
Although Leukos had left Megarian clothes for him, they remained untouched in his quarters.
He couldn’t bring himself to wear the colours of a kingdom he’d once betrayed.
The weight of the past clung to him still, a constant reminder he might never earn the right to wear Megarian sea-blue again.
“Nikander,” she greeted, her smile tight.
He returned it with his usual smirk. “So formal.”
She raised her bound wrists with a soft clink. “Only as long as you keep me in chains. Did you want me to reminisce about our time in the Pit?”
The mention of the arena made Nik’s stomach churn. “Don’t even try to compare the two,” he said. “You might have dampeners on, but this cell is a far cry from the shithole we survived. ”
She said nothing, though she held her head high, surveying him as if trying to reconcile the slave warrior she’d once known with the Megarian rebel before her. Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and memories.
Nik didn’t know what Queen Charis and Danaos intended, but any interrogation would prove pointless. Katell wouldn’t tell them shit. He saw it in the rigid set of her shoulders and fierce determination burning in her moss-green eyes. She had always been a force of nature, unyielding and relentless.
Gods, she was beautiful.
And as infuriatingly stubborn as ever.
Yet something about her was different. Her skin was sallow, sweat beading her temples despite the cool breeze drifting through the window. She moved with an edge that unsettled him, pacing back and forth in front of the bed like one of the arena tigers trapped in their cages.
She seemed agitated. Restless.
“You took something from me,” she said, “and I’d like it back.”
He held her gaze, hoping to find a glimmer of the trust they had once shared, but her expression gave him nothing.
He cleared his throat. “How about you start by telling us why you’re here?”
Still watching him, she reached for the water jug on the table and raised it to her lips. “You’re the one who brought me here.” Her tone was smooth yet threaded with challenge.
She drank slowly, water slipping past her lips and tracing a line down her chin and neck, vanishing into the hollow of her collarbone. The air in the room thickened, and a prickle of heat crawled up the back of Nik’s neck.
He turned his attention back to Leukos. They’d spent two days trying to piece together why the Rasennans had sent her to Tiryns.
“Let me guess,” he said, his voice steady again, though tension coiled beneath the surface. “They asked you to find a way into the city.”
Her smile curved into a feral grin. “Yes, so they can kill the queen.”
The bluntness of her statement didn’t faze him. He only shook his head, jaw clenched. “I see history is repeating itself.”
Katell stopped pacing. The sudden stillness was jarring.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Nik ran a hand over the stubble on his cheek, the roughness grounding him. Most Achaeans knew his role in the massacre. He’d never denied it. But telling her was different.
Once Katell knew, there would be no going back. Her opinion of him, already strained, would turn ugly. Whatever thread still tied them together might snap. Yet if he wanted to earn her trust again, he had to tell her. He owed her the truth and couldn’t let her hear it from someone else.
Not this.
He drew in a slow breath.
“As a child,” he said at last, voice low, “I was tasked with leading Rasennan soldiers into the besieged city of Megara.”
Katell’s frown deepened. The chain around her ankle gave a faint clink as she stepped forward. “By who?”
“My father,” Nik replied, the words splintering his throat. “Him, and two other Silver Shields who turned traitor to the king. I was just a boy, but I knew the sewer system. It’s where I used to train, where I practised using my Gift.”
He swallowed hard, the memory of the dark, damp tunnels twisting inside him like rot.
Katell didn’t flinch. “What happened?”
“The soldiers invaded the palace and killed everyone inside.” A tight knot coiled in his chest with each word. “The royal family, the court, the servants.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Everyone.”
The sunlit room seemed to darken with his confession. Only the distant trickle of water from a fountain broke the silence.
“The Megarian massacre,” Katell said, turning to Leukos. “Your family.”
Leukos remained silent, his emotions hidden behind his usual stoic mask.
Nik nodded.
Katell’s lips pressed into a thin line, as if a hard truth had settled in. “That’s why those Achaeans called you a traitor,” she said softly. “Back at the arena.”
The memory struck Nik like a jolt. It felt like a lifetime ago. “You remember that?” he asked, unable to hide his surprise. He’d assumed she’d want to bury the past. But she hadn’t.
Part of her still held on to what they’d shared.
The realisation washed through him like warm rain, stirring something tender and dangerous in his chest.
Katell ignored his question. “And how do they treat you now?” she asked.
Nik offered a small shrug. “It’s not so bad. Leukos has my back.”
“You two are… friends?” she asked, looking between them.
Nik hesitated. How could he explain something so tangled? Leukos was like a brother to him—a long-lost brother whose trust he was still trying to regain. Nik had sworn himself to the rebellion and given up his soul so Leukos could reclaim his Gift. Yet walls remained between them.
Were they friends?
“Yes,” Leukos said at last. It was the first thing he’d uttered since they entered, and the firm admission struck Nik deeper than expected.
Katell gave a slow nod. “On my way here, I passed through Bruna and saw the arena.” A flicker of vicious satisfaction curved her tone. “It was almost burnt down, and they’re tearing down the rest.”
Nik couldn’t stop the smug grin that spread across his face. “I have to admit I’m particularly proud of the damage your sister and I inflicted on it.”
Her brow arched, and he couldn’t help but indulge her.
“Alena came looking for you and stumbled on me instead. She got me out of there along with every other slave and prisoner, Gifted or not. Even the Non-Humans.” He’d never forget that day: the smoke, the chaos, and Alena at the centre of it all—a slip of a girl draped in silk, wielding nothing but fierce determination and the kind of courage that made grown men pause. “Your sister is quite something.”
Katell’s features flickered with something—pride, maybe—but it vanished as quickly as it came. “She has a big heart,” she said, her tone unreadable. Then, more sharply: “I’m surprised she isn’t here to welcome me.”
A beat of silence followed, heavy with the weight of what neither of them wanted to say. Nik glanced at Leukos, unsure who should speak first.
“She isn’t here,” Leukos said flatly.
Katell frowned. “What? What do you mean she’s not here?” She resumed pacing, more agitated than before, sharp steps echoing off the walls. Then she spun and jabbed a finger at Leukos. “You were supposed to look after her!”
Nik flinched at her sudden anger, but Leukos didn’t even blink. His expression darkened, his jaw clenched.
“That’s rich, coming from you.” He scoffed, pushing off the wall and stepping forward.
Nik shifted instinctively, sliding between them. This wasn’t part of the plan. Leukos had promised to keep his distance, to stay calm. But that promise looked ready to snap.
“Alena isn’t my responsibility anymore,” Leukos continued, voice biting. “She makes her own choices now.” Then, with a cold curl of his lip, he added, “If you were so concerned about her well-being, maybe you should’ve stayed with her—instead of running off to join Dalmatius and his Black Helmets.”
Katell’s eyes blazed and, in an instant, she lunged at him. The chain at her ankle snapped taut with a harsh clang, yanking her to a stop, but not before her fury slammed into the room like a wave.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” she snarled. Her chest heaved as she glared at him. “I thought Alena was dead! I thought you had killed her or that you’d both died escaping. How was I supposed to know she would come after me?”
Her voice reverberated through the room, but Leukos didn’t flinch. He was a marble statue in the face of her fury, unyielding.
“Because she’s your sister,” he shot back, his icy tone slicing through her anger. “And you should’ve had more faith in her.”
Katell’s breath hitched just for a moment. Then she turned her back on them, fists clenched at her sides, the muscles in her shoulders tense and trembling.
But Leukos wasn’t done. His control cracked, and his voice surged, raw and furious. “I watched her cry over you, day after day, sick with worry.”
Sharp, searing cold needled through Nik’s forearm beneath the leather arm guard, where the Mark shimmered just out of sight. A warning.
“She put herself in danger for you,” Leukos went on, his breath misting the air. “She snuck into the arena, joined the rebellion, and travelled to the Western Lands—all for you!”
Magic rent the air. The pressure dropped. Frost bloomed across Nik’s skin, sinking needle-deep. He clenched his jaw and crossed his arms, masking the reaction. He couldn’t afford to draw attention to the frost creeping beneath the arm guard.
The temperature plummeted, but Nik barely felt the cold, not since the pact with the North Wind. What chilled him was something else entirely.
Tiny shards of ice formed in the air around Leukos, razor-sharp, suspended like a constellation of blades. They spun, orbiting him in a chaotic dance of glassy light, faster and faster.
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?”