Chapter 20 #2
“No.” Pelagios’ refusal sliced through the chamber like a blade. Even Danaos faltered. “They are woven with Laran’s magic, and when used too often, they strip away the Gifted’s mind until nothing remains. The magic is too potent for mortals. They must be destroyed.”
Nik’s pulse pounded, his mind racing. Pelagios’ explanation aligned with what he’d seen: Katell’s twitching hands, her restless pacing, her sudden mood swings.
Twelve be damned. She’d been taking them.
Movement at the edge of the room caught his attention. The chief healer stepped forward—an older man, broad-shouldered and sun-worn, silver streaks running through his hair, a white chiton draped over one shoulder.
“They’ve poisoned her mind,” he said flatly. “Whatever those stones are, they’ve taken hold. Her body shows every sign of magical dependency. She cannot function without them.”
“It’s true,” Nik said quickly. “She wasn’t herself. She kept asking about the vial.”
Danaos’ expression hardened. “And she will not have it.” His words cracked like a whip. “We’ve already done more than enough for the assassin sent to murder our queen.”
Nik stiffened. So they knew. Leukos must have gone straight to Charis after Katell’s confession.
“She’s seen our healers,” Danaos continued. “She’s being kept in comfortable quarters. That is more than she deserves.”
Before Nik could argue, Xanthos stepped forward, his shoulders rigid, brow furrowed in disdain. “If her mind is broken, then it is the gods’ curse upon her. And why not? She is the daughter of the Rebel Queen, who turned her back on her own family and joined the enemy.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the Tirynthian council. Their contempt made Nik’s blood boil. They didn’t even know her, yet they condemned her.
“She isn’t our enemy—”
“She’s a weapon,” another councilman cut in, addressing the queen. “If she’s half as dangerous as our spies claim, then we should strike before she turns on us. It would deal a huge blow to our enemy—the loss of another Gifted soldier.”
“You can’t kill her. She’s stronger than any of us.” Nik’s voice rose, urgency sharpening every word. If compassion wouldn’t sway them, strategy might. “If we can earn her trust and persuade her to join us, she could become a powerful ally.”
“Nonsense,” Xanthos spat. He leaned forward, his pointed beard twitching. “She’ll betray you the first chance she gets. Just as others have. Just like your father—”
“Don’t you dare speak of my father.” The growl tore from Nik before he could stop it, rumbling through the chamber with enough force to silence every voice.
“That’s enough,” Leukos said sharply.
Xanthos inclined his head at once. “Apologies, my prince.”
Nik said nothing. His fists curled tight, nails digging into his palms as old ghosts clawed their way to the surface.
A hand settled on his shoulder, steadying him. Theo stood beside him, his touch a silent comfort amid the turmoil plaguing his mind.
“Councilman.” Leukos turned to the one who had suggested killing Katell. “You mentioned another Gifted soldier?”
The man hesitated, his eyes flicking to Queen Charis. At her faint nod, he continued. “Yes, my prince. News arrived this morning. There was an attack on a quarry in Dodona. Praefect Gortynius was gravely injured.”
Leukos straightened, then glanced at Pelagios. “Gortynius? Isn’t that—?”
“Philippos,” Pelagios muttered. “That son of a bitch. Supervising stone quarries for the Emperor in Achaea, no less. He’ll live?”
The councilman faltered, unsettled by Pelagios’ venom. “Yes… but our spies confirmed he’s lost his Gift.”
A stunned silence rippled through the room before voices erupted in disbelief.
“What?”
“Lost his Gift?”
“That’s not possible!”
Nik’s head snapped up, his heart pounding. His gaze met Leukos’ across the table, and in that instant, understanding passed between them.
There was only one person they knew who could take a Gift.
Alena.
Danaos raised his hands, slicing through the uproar with practised authority. “Peace, my friends.”
The room stilled.
“It appears our Megarian guests weren’t lying after all.” His gaze slid down the table to Leukos. “The Omega has returned.”
Theo and Pelagios stiffened, their jaws clenched at the pointed slight, while the rest of the chamber erupted again. Leukos didn’t move. He held Danaos’ stare, a silent clash of wills playing out in the space between them.
Before anyone could press further, the heavy doors creaked open.
A stout man in amber robes entered—the queen’s priest. His expression was severe, brows drawn low, lips pressed into a flat line that suggested little patience and even less warmth.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing shallowly to Charis. Then, to Leukos, with less softness: “Your Highness. The guests have all arrived for the wedding celebrations. It is time to offer prayer and invite the gods to join us before the palace gates are sealed.”
Nik frowned. Once the rituals were completed, the gates would close—an Achaean wedding tradition. No one would be allowed in or out for three days.
Queen Charis rose, her gown catching the light like rippling gold. The council’s chatter died at once.
She clasped her hands, knuckles pale, the only fracture in composure. “Thank you for your counsel. I will see you tomorrow for the wedding. Prince Leukos—if you will.”
Nik caught the fleeting glance she cast towards Danaos—quick, but unmistakably aching—before she swept from the chamber. Leukos followed, his shoulders squared with duty but shadowed by something heavier.
Nik watched them go, a knot tightening in his chest. When he caught Theo’s eye, his friend’s concern mirrored his own.
Trust Leukos to finally receive word of Alena the day before his wedding to another.
Twelve be damned. She’d returned too late.