Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ALENA
The wolves halted before an iron-bound door, ears pricked, bodies tense.
Two palace guards stationed on either side straightened in alarm, hands tightening on their spears.
“Your Highness!” one called, spotting Leukos striding towards them. “What’s the meaning of—?”
“Let us in,” Leukos said, his voice sharp with authority. The guards hesitated only a moment before obeying. One fumbled with the heavy lock, the clunk of metal loud in the tense silence. The other couldn’t tear his eyes from the white wolf bristling at Alena’s side.
As the door creaked open, Leukos leaned closer. “Be careful,” he murmured. “Your sister’s not herself.”
Alena’s heart gave a sharp, uneven beat. “What do you mean?”
Nik stepped up beside her, his expression shadowed. “She’s sick.”
Sick? Katell had healing magic. If she were sick, she could easily heal herself. What weren’t they telling her?
The lock thudded open. Alena didn’t wait. She pushed past the guards and stormed inside. Leukos and Nik followed, but the wolves remained behind, low growls vibrating in their throats.
She expected a cell—chains, cold stone, iron restraints. But the room was clean, almost comfortable. High windows spilled sunlight across the stone floor, warming the air.
Yet Katell sat on her bed, wrapped in furs and shivering.
Her golden flush was gone, her skin nearly grey. Cheeks sunken, lips dry, her moss-green eyes looked hollow—unfocused, as if part of her were somewhere else entirely.
Alena’s breath caught, a knot of confused emotion twisting behind her ribs. A part of her longed to rush forward, to touch her, to ask what had happened.
But then Katell looked up and smiled.
Not with relief or remorse, but a crooked, cruel little thing that never reached her eyes.
“Alena,” she crooned in Koine, her voice rasping from disuse. “Is that you?”
Her gaze slid lazily over the Cyprian’s armour, iridescent in the sunlight like fish scales. Katell pushed to her feet, the furs slipping from her shoulders to pool at her feet.
“Well, well,” she said with a chuckle. “Little star, all dressed up like some noble Achaean hero.” Her lips curled into a sneer. “Tell me—are you actually going to fight in that? Or just strut around for show?”
The words struck sharp, precise, like one of Katell’s throwing knives.
Of course she thought Alena looked ridiculous. Alena, the awkward little sister who could barely hold a sword. Alena, who always needed saving. And now here she stood, wrapped in the Cyprian’s mother-of-pearl breastplate.
Heat rose to her cheeks, but she didn’t flinch. Katell might still be sharp-tongued, but she was a ghost of herself. And behind her haunted gaze, Alena saw Leywani, Scylas, all the other Freefolk enslaved in Dodona.
Shame burned away, leaving only anger.
“What did you do, Kat?” she demanded in their Freefolk tongue, each word clipped and razor-edged.
Katell stepped forward, the chain at her ankle dragging along the stone with a screech.
“Was that your magic I sensed just now?” she asked in Koine, her tone light, almost amused—as if she hadn’t heard Alena’s fury.
Her gaze slid past her sister to Leukos and Nik, silent behind her.
“I don’t know what happened outside, but that was some wild—”
She was dodging.
“I’m not playing games, Katell!” Alena snapped. From the corridor, the wolves began to growl, their snarls rising with her anger. “What did you say to them?”
“Alena…” Leukos cautioned softly.
But she only heard the thunder in her ears.
“Say to who?” Katell’s brows lifted in mock confusion. Her gaze flicked over the Achaeans. “You mean those two? Why would I tell them anything?”
Deflecting again.
Alena’s patience frayed, and she clicked her tongue. “I knew you were angry when we left, but I never thought you could be this cruel.”
Katell gave a mirthless laugh and began pacing. “Alena, really. If this is about—”
“We made a promise!” Alena shouted, jabbing a finger at her. “We swore we’d protect their secret. That we would never betray them.”
Katell stilled.
Something shifted.
Her eyes darkened, shadows blooming from the pupils, bleeding into the whites like ink in water. The light in the room seemed to dim, as if something ancient stirred behind her gaze.
“Don’t shout,” she said, the warning soft but edged with something colder. More dangerous.
When she blinked, the shadows vanished, but the threat lingered.
She resumed pacing, the chain dragging like a warning bell.
Alena’s jaw clenched. She refused to back down.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she said, steel threading her voice. “Not anymore. Not after what you did to them.”
Katell’s eyebrow lifted. “Them?”
“The Freefolk.”
The answer landed like a hammer.
Katell froze mid-step, shock flashing across her face.
“Your Rasennan friends raided the Freefolk Lands,” Alena pressed. “They burned the camps—”
Katell turned even paler. “No… that’s not—”
“They took everyone,” Alena interrupted, her voice rising. “Every man, woman, and child. Shackled them, marched them back to Achaea, and enslaved them in the quarries.”
Katell retreated a step, shaking her head. “How do you know—?”
Alena’s throat tightened. The memory seared behind her eyes. “I came straight from Dodona. A stone quarry, ten days north of here. I went to rescue my friends who’d been taken…” Her breath hitched. “And I found them—our people. Scylas. In chains.”
Katell shook her head, lips parting in disbelief. “No… that’s not true. It can’t be—”
Her denial only fuelled Alena’s anger. “I saw him with my own eyes. He was skin and bones,” she bit out. “We even spoke. He might have forgiven you for Elder Ignatius, but he’ll never forgive you for this!”
Shock splintered across Katell’s face, her composure cracking like thin ice.
“Do you even understand what you’ve done?” Images of the Freefolk’s gaunt faces flashed through her mind. It broke Alena’s heart to think how they had sought refuge in the steppe lands, only to be dragged back in chains. “You betrayed our people. You destroyed lives!”
Katell flinched. For a heartbeat, guilt flickered. Then it vanished, replaced by suspicion.
“No. Dorias would never betray me like that.” She turned away, pacing faster, as if to outrun the truth. “This is about you, isn’t it? You didn’t get your way last summer, so now you’re telling lies.”
Dorias? The name landed in Alena’s gut like a stone.
Who was this man her sister trusted more than her own blood?
She stared at Katell, who muttered to herself, low, frantic scraps Alena couldn’t catch. Her eyes darted around the room, fingers twitching at her sides.
A chill crept up Alena’s spine.
The sharpness in her tone, the paranoia, the restless eyes—it dragged her back to last summer. Katell had seemed off then, too.
But now it was like staring at a stranger—a ghost wearing her sister’s face.
What had happened to her?
Behind her, Leukos shifted. “Alena,” he murmured, a quiet warning.
She forced herself to breathe, swallowing down her frustration. “You know I’m not lying.”
Katell’s fingers twitched, as if tugging invisible threads. “Of course you’d say that,” she spat, her breath quickening. “You always think you know best. That you’re the only one who sees the truth.”
“Kat, that’s not—”
“You can’t stand that I left you last summer, so now you’re trying to get revenge.” Her eyes flashed with raw, unfiltered rage. She flung a hand towards the door. “Get out! I don’t want to see you again!”
The wolves growled outside, but Alena didn’t move.
Her heart thundered—not from fear, but from the unbearable weight of watching her sister unravel. “Kat, please. Just listen. You’re not well—”
“No! You’re lying!” Katell’s voice climbed to a hysterical pitch, her pacing frantic.
“I’m not—”
“I said get out!” she screamed, and lunged—sudden and feral, eyes blazing.
Nik moved in a flash, catching her wrists before she could reach Alena. “All right, that’s enough.”
Katell writhed in his grip, her screams raw and ragged—each one a knife twisting in Alena’s chest.
She stood frozen until her sister sagged against Nik, strength spent. Her head bowed, breath rasping, shoulders trembling.
Leukos stepped quietly to her side. “Come on,” he said grimly. “Let’s go.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Alena asked, struggling to keep her emotions in check.
Leukos’ face darkened. “She’s been using some Rasennan magic called Laran’s Tears to enhance her Gifts. Ever since we captured her, she’s been like this—unstable, volatile. The magic’s corrupted her mind.”
Alena’s stomach turned. “But… why isn’t she healing herself?
“She can’t,” he said. “They put dampeners on her, so she can’t access her Gift.”
Alena’s gaze dropped to her sister’s wrists. Slender cuffs of burnished gold gleamed against her skin. “If we took one off, she could heal herself.”
Leukos scowled. “We know. Nik hasn’t stopped arguing with Danaos about it, but he won’t budge. Says it’s too dangerous.”
Alena looked past him. Nik was gently guiding Katell back to the bed. Her fire had burned out, leaving only a hollow shell. Shoulders hunched, limbs trembling despite the heavy furs, she clung to Nik’s tunic like a lifeline—as if letting go might unmoor her completely.
A fresh wave of fury surged in Alena’s chest. “He’ll listen to me.”
She didn’t care if the man was the queen’s soulmate. Keeping Katell in that state was nothing short of barbaric.
Without another word, she strode from the room, the wolves rising in sync to follow. Leukos fell into step beside her, silent but watchful.
Through the bond she reached for Apollo and found him curled beside Kaixo, who was fast asleep, Phoebe keeping her usual vigilant watch nearby.
“You don’t have to come with me,” she said, her voice tighter than intended. “I don’t need your help.”
Leukos didn’t flinch. If anything, amusement sparked in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But I wouldn’t mind watching you take Danaos down a notch.”