Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ALENA
Alena found Nik slumped asleep on the stool and smacked his arm. “You idiot!”
He jolted upright, blinking hard. “Red, what the—?”
“How could you sacrifice yourself like that?” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, battling the fear coiling in her stomach.
Nik stared up at her, shadows veiling half his face. Sleep slid from his features in an instant, replaced by dawning clarity.
Night had long since fallen. Only two oil lamps and a few sputtering candles lit Katell’s room in a gentle haze. On the cot nearby, her sister slept on, undisturbed, her breaths deep and even.
The white wolf had slipped out once Alena returned, vanishing in search of food. The smaller grey—her silent escort from the gardens—had circled the room before curling beside the bed, ears flicking at every sound.
Nik sat up straighter, his gaze sweeping over her. “Well, look at you, all dressed up.”
Alena’s fingers tightened on the folds of her green chiton, suddenly hyperaware of the fabric against her skin. When a servant had offered fresh clothes and help dressing, she’d hesitated—until it became painfully clear she had no idea how to wear an Achaean chiton on her own.
“Queen Charis had an entire wardrobe sent to our room,” she rambled, smoothing the skirt beneath the bronze belt cinched at her waist. “I didn’t know what was appropriate, so… I picked green. One of the attendants showed me how to wrap it—”
Nik waved her off with a lazy gesture. “You look great. Don’t overthink it.”
“Oh, thank you.” Then she narrowed her eyes, returning to her point. “Now stop dodging my question.”
Nik dragged a hand down his face as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion clinging to him. “I guess Leukos told you about the pact, then.”
The casual way he said it made her insides knot. How could he be so calm?
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper thick with disbelief. “Nik… You gave up your soul.” She searched his face, desperate for some sign that he understood the gravity of what he’d done—but he wouldn’t even look at her. “Do you even realise what that means?”
“I know exactly what it means.” He pushed himself to his feet, a weary sigh escaping him. “And you don’t need to worry about it.”
Her mouth fell open. “Don’t need to worry—?”
“It’s my choice, Alena,” he interrupted his voice gruff. “It’s done. There’s nothing you can do—”
“If you think I won’t touch that Mark on your arm so I can meet the North Wind and tell him exactly what I think of this soul-binding nonsense,” she shot back, emphasising each word, “then you clearly don’t remember me very well.”
Nik faltered, then his lips curled into a half-smile. “As much as I’d love to see you rip into that bastard, let’s wait until after the war—once Leukos has no more need of his magic.”
She shook her head. “His Gift is out of control. I tried to help him, but he won’t let me—”
“Don’t let him use that as another excuse to wall himself off,” Nik cut in, clasping her shoulder. “He needs you, Red. More than you know.” He hesitated, his throat working before he added, “He’s been a miserable fuck without you.”
A fierce blush rose to her cheeks. “Really?”
Nik smirked. “Brooding night and day. But until he gains control of his Gift, he’ll keep pushing you away to protect you.” He squeezed her shoulder, giving her a pointed look. “Don’t let him.”
I don’t want to hurt you.
The words echoed through her, leaving a hollow ache in their wake. If distance was Leukos’ solution, then where did that leave her? Watching from afar while he came undone?
She stared at Nik for another beat, more questions on the tip of her tongue. Did he fear the pact? Did he feel different since? If he didn’t want to speak of it, she wouldn’t press—and truthfully, she had no answers to offer him yet.
She simply nodded. “Thanks, Nik. Get some rest—I’ll take it from here.”
Nik studied her face as if he could still see the turmoil beneath. Then he turned to the cot. “The fever’s broken, but the guards will be back soon. If anything changes…” His gaze shifted to the grey wolf curled at the bedside. “Send the wolf.”
“I will.”
Nik paused beside Katell, his expression softening.
He reached out, brushing a knuckle down her arm—barely a touch, yet filled with quiet protectiveness that warmed Alena’s chest. She’d suspected, once or twice, that Nik’s feelings for her sister ran deeper than friendship, but now there was no mistaking it.
It was written in the tender way he looked at Katell.
Alena found herself wondering how long it had been like this, and how much she’d missed.
Once the door closed behind him, Alena sank onto the stool, the wood creaking beneath her. The grey wolf padded over and sat beside her, tongue lolling. She absently ran her fingers through its soft fur, grounding herself in the simple rhythm as she watched Katell sleep.
Her sister’s complexion had improved—her cheeks no longer gaunt, the dark circles beneath her eyes faded. Even the tremor in her hands had stilled.
The distant thud of boots echoed down the corridor, growing louder until two guards stepped inside, the burnished gold manacle in hand.
“The king consort has ordered that the prisoner be restrained once more,” one announced, skirting around the wolf.
Alena frowned. “She’s not a threat right now.”
“It’s not up for debate.”
They re-shackled Katell’s wrist and left, silence creeping back into the room.
Moments later, Katell stirred, her body jerking like someone waking from a nightmare. Her eyes darted around, pupils adjusting to the dim lamplight.
Alena stood stiffly. “How are you feeling?”
Her tone sounded too formal in her own ears. She hated how unnatural it felt to speak to her sister like this.
“Not great.” Katell pushed herself up with some difficulty, resting against the cushions. “But… better.”
Alena reached for the jug on the side table and poured water into a clay cup. “Drink,” she said, holding it out. “You had a fever. A bad one.”
Katell took the cup without protest and drained it. She refilled it herself, her sharp eyes flicking between Alena and the grey wolf at her feet, as if trying to make sense of the scene.
They used to share everything—secrets, dreams, fears whispered in the dark. And though she was the enemy, Alena still felt the pull to tell her sister everything that had happened since they’d last spoken. The Grey-Eyed Maiden. Phoebe’s brutal training. The South Wind. Leukos.
But now they sat in the same room like strangers, the chasm between them carved by hurt and betrayal.
Alena looked away, her stomach knotting.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to leave, not when so many truths lay hidden. She had uncovered fragments of the past Katell had a right to know—secrets that could shift everything, maybe even draw them back together.
Except… where would she even start?
Katell loosened her braid, fingers moving with practised ease through the tangles, then rewove it into her signature high crest. Once she was finished, her familiar composure returned.
Katell looked like her old self again—no trembling, no frantic words.
Her Gift had healed her, at least on the surface.
“Were you here all night?” Katell finally asked.
“No,” Alena said, settling back on the stool. “Nik stayed with you.”
Katell’s brow furrowed, her eyes searching Alena’s for answers. “Why are you here, Alena?”
Because I’ve missed you.
But the words stuck in her throat, too thick with anger and hurt.
Instead, Alena squared her shoulders. “Because we need to talk. There are things you don’t know, but deserve to.”
Katell clicked her tongue. "If this is about the Freefolk again, then I don’t want to hear—”
“Leywani’s alive,” Alena cut in, before she could second-guess herself. She’d replayed this moment in her mind all day, weighing every possible outcome, but one truth anchored her decision: if there was anyone Katell would still fight for—still bleed for—it was Leywani.
Her words struck their mark. Katell froze.
Her lips parted, closed, then finally whispered, “Leywani?”
“I saw her in Dodona,” Alena said, more gently. “She’s alive. A slave, like the others. I tried to bring her with me, but she—”
“She what?” Katell pressed, her earlier defiance crumbling as she hung on Alena’s every word.
“She wouldn’t leave. Not without the others.” Her fingers tightened on the folds of her chiton. The grey wolf shifted beside her, letting out a low whine, picking up on her unrest. “When I left, they were preparing to rebel against the soldiers.”
Katell paled. “They’ll be slaughtered…”
“I know,” Alena murmured, her throat burning with the weight of it. “But as Scylas said, they’d rather be dead than remain slaves.”
A strained hush settled over the room. Katell stared at some fixed point beyond the wall, her expression unreadable, but the tension in her frame betrayed her.
Alena watched, her heart clenching. It was there—sorrow, confusion, guilt—breaking through the armour her sister had wrapped so tightly around herself.
Katell had spoken the truth. She hadn’t known—she’d never intended to betray the Freefolk.
But the fact remained: the legions had come for them, and whether Katell intended it or not, she had helped them.
Alena’s mind raced, piecing together the fragments. She had a sinking suspicion about who was really behind it all.
She shifted forward, chest tight. “This man you mentioned… Dorias. Do you trust him?"
Katell’s features hardened with sudden wariness. “Yes. He saved me from the arena.”
So Dorias was Dalmatius, the Undefeated. Alena’s gut twisted, unease cutting deeper than she expected. Not just because of who he was, but because he had found his way to Katell.
“Right,” she said tightly, fingers curling over the edge of the stool until her knuckles strained. “And you have feelings for him?”
“Yes,” Katell answered without hesitation.
A pang bloomed behind Alena’s ribs. She tried to smile, but it came out crooked, brittle around the edges. “Does he make you happy?”
A faint smile played on Katell’s lips, one Alena recognised all too well—the same smile she’d worn whenever she spoke of Scylas.
“He does.” Katell eased back into the cushions, her posture loosening, the air between them warming by a fragile thread. “And you and Leukos?”
Heat climbed Alena’s neck. “Oh, we’re not…” Her voice came out as a squeak. She cleared her throat, forcing composure. “We’re not together.”
Katell tilted her head, a knowing glint in her eye. “I saw the way he looked at you back in the Western Lands—the way he was ready to defend you. He seems quite devoted.”
Alena’s pulse stumbled. “I… Yes. I suppose he is protective.”
“He’s an honourable man,” Katell continued, “even if he is an enemy of Rasenna.”
The tension resurfaced again, fogging the fragile thread between them until only the cold figure of a Rasennan praefect remained—someone Alena no longer knew how to reach.
Even so, she rose, compelled by the gravity of what she was about to reveal. She sat at the foot of the bed. Phoebe’s warning to keep her guard up echoed in her mind, but Alena pushed it aside.
Her sister would never harm her.
Katell gave her a questioning glance but said nothing.
“Kat.” Alena drew a steadying breath, uncertain if now was the right time—or if it was already too much. “I found out the truth about our mother.”
Katell stiffened, her body taut, as if bracing for a blow.
“Last summer,” Alena continued, her fingers twitching in her lap, “in the Western Lands, the Green Mountains tribe recognised the torc. It belonged to the Rebel Queen.”
Katell’s features tightened. “She was our mother?”
“Yes.” A bittersweet smile tugged at Alena’s lips. “Apparently, I look just like her.”
Katell bowed her head, as though struggling to absorb the revelation. “Are you sure?”
Alena nodded, recalling the day she’d met Brennus and his sons. “The warriors who fought beside her at Kendrisia knew you by name. Damocles was a Megarian healer who fought with her. Before the final battle, she asked him to take us somewhere safe.”
Katell’s composure faltered. A ripple of disbelief passed through her—shock, tempered by something buried. Grief, perhaps.
They hadn’t spoken about their father in such a long time…
“Damocles fought alongside the Rebel Queen?” she asked at last, her voice subdued but no longer guarded.
Alena nodded again.
“I guess that’s why he had so many stories to tell.” Katell’s tone softened, and for a fleeting moment she looked less praefect and more sister.
Alena’s chest tightened with cautious hope. Surely that meant something. Surely now, knowing the truth about their mother, Katell would turn her back on the legions.
“And our father?” Katell asked.
Alena hesitated, the answer on the tip of her tongue—but the door creaked open before she could speak. A servant entered with a tray of food, the clatter of ceramic against wood jarring in the fragile quiet.
Katell’s attention shifted to the steaming plates, hunger evident in her gaze.
Alena lingered for a beat longer, then decided to leave. Pushing further tonight would be pointless. Katell had enough to reckon with already.
“It’s late,” she said quietly, rising. “I’ll leave you to rest.”
The grey wolf padded ahead, tail brushing the servant, who scrambled aside with a startled gasp.
Alena reached the door. Her hand was already on the handle when Katell spoke.
“Alena.”
She turned. Katell sat motionless, clutching a bowl, her gaze distant. “Leywani… She’s truly alive?”
Alena’s heart strained. “Yes.”
The next question came as a strangled whisper. “And her husband?”
“Dead.”
A shadow darkened Katell’s brow. “And she’s a slave… in this stone quarry?”
Alena swallowed hard. “Last I saw her, she was alive. But she needs our help.”
Her sister’s eyes searched hers. “What will you do?”
“I’m going to petition the queen,” Alena said. “Ask her to send a small group back to Dodona to free them.”
Katell frowned. “You think she’ll listen?”
“I don’t know,” Alena admitted. “But for their sake, I have to try.”
With a small nod, Katell returned to her meal.
Alena stole one last look at her, fragile hope lingering in her heart, before slipping quietly from the room.