Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ALENA
It didn’t take long for the Tirynthians to act. After Katell’s escape, Alena, Nik, and Leukos were seized by palace guards and confined to their quarters. At dawn, a summons came, and they were escorted to the throne room.
Queen Charis and Danaos waited atop the dais, while the full Tirynthian council formed a living wall around them, faces carved from stone.
Alena swallowed hard and stepped down the long aisle.
Beside her, Nik’s mouth curved in a wry half-smile. He muttered low enough for only Leukos and Alena to hear. “Theo’s going to kill us when he finds out. He spent months negotiating this alliance.”
Alena’s gaze lifted to the throne. Queen Charis’ cold eyes stared back, sunlight from the high windows igniting the gold thread in her amber-and-white peplos and sparking along the crown at her brow.
Alena drew a slow breath. “I’ll take full responsibility—”
“Not a chance,” Leukos cut in, voice hard as steel. The guards shepherded them forward, Alena bracketed between him and Nik. “No one comes near you.”
The queen’s brows angled sharply, the only crack in her composure. “Prince Leukos. You betrayed the alliance.”
Tightness coiled in Alena’s gut. Relief still threaded through her—Katell had gotten away thanks to Leukos—but it tangled with frustration. Since the accident, he’d kept his distance, as though mere proximity might endanger her.
She understood. The memory of ice spreading over her jaw, its searing cold burrowing into her skin, still haunted her. But understanding didn’t dull the sting of his absence.
He’d tried to kiss her that night. Held her when she was hurt, his voice raw as he whispered reassurances. He’d called her love.
Now an icy chasm yawned between them—one of his own making—and it only made her ache for the closeness they’d once shared.
Alena forced her attention back to the queen. The throne room seemed to shrink, silence pressing heavy. Guards loomed behind them like a second wall.
She clenched her hands, steeling herself. If Charis and Danaos demanded punishment, they could start with her. The plan to free Katell had been hers.
“He didn’t betray the alliance,” she said, her voice cutting the silence. “You betrayed it first when you suggested executing my sister.”
Leukos stiffened beside her, the shift almost imperceptible—except to her.
Danaos’ fury was anything but subtle. “Your sister is the leader of the Black Helmets and Laran’s Chosen,” he snapped, his words slamming against the stone walls.
“She’s the Rasennans’ strongest soldier, and you let her go!
Do you understand what you’ve done? You’ve thrown away Tiryns’ only leverage after years of siege! ”
Leukos bristled, fists curling, but Alena shot him a warning look. The last thing they needed was to provoke Danaos further.
“My sister will do the right thing,” Alena said, keeping her voice steady despite the storm inside her. Katell’s desperate embrace still lingered in her mind, grounding her. “If I know her at all, she’s headed to Dodona as we speak.”
She clung to that belief, though doubt pressed at the edges.
Katell’s path had grown dangerous, one Alena had barely glimpsed—and if she was wrong, the Achaean alliance would fracture, undoing everything Leukos had fought for.
The weight of that possibility sat heavy on her chest, each breath tighter.
Danaos’ bark of laughter shattered her focus, harsh and merciless. “Have you lost your mind? Your sister will be back before the day’s end, attempting to infiltrate our city again.”
“No,” Nik said, certainty ringing in his voice. “She won’t, cousin. We can trust her.”
Danaos’ gaze narrowed, weighing Nik’s conviction against the years of siege etched into his memory. Before he could speak, movement stirred at the hall’s edge.
Philistos stepped from the shadows where he’d been lurking, his tone slick with self-righteous venom. “The Omega has angered the gods,” he proclaimed, eyes sliding to Alena as though casting a curse. “And in doing so, she has released our only leverage.”
A ripple of disapproval moved through the council—robes shifted, whispers hissed. One elder councilman shook his head slowly; another crossed his arms, lips thin with disdain.
Alena ground her teeth, the urge to scoff rising. “If the gods are angry at anyone, it’s the Rasennans, not—”
Philistos silenced her with a raised hand, his expression dripping with feigned pity. “Your Majesties, we have been deceived!” His voice rose, echoing through the vaulted chamber with rehearsed dread. “The Omega isn’t here to save Tiryns. She’s here to lead us to ruin!”
Murmurs rippled through the throne room, fear and doubt coiling like poison in the air. Queen Charis’ gaze narrowed, and the silence that followed was colder than any reprimand.
Guards shifted, exchanging wary glances. Councilmen leaned towards one another, whispers sharp, eyes darting between Alena, Nik, and Leukos.
Then—without warning—the air fractured. A surge of magic erupted from Leukos, plunging the temperature until each breath burned cold.
Frost bloomed at his boots, spidering across the sandstone floor in jagged veins, racing towards Philistos like a living, vengeful thing.
It hissed as it spread, curling and recoiling, searching for its prey.
“Hold your tongue,” Leukos growled. A pale blue light shimmered over his skin and armour, licking him like flames of ice. “Or I’ll freeze it for you.”
Philistos’ composure shattered. His eyes went wide, bravado draining as the frost crept within arm’s reach.
Ice licked the base of the dais, and gasps broke from the council. Robes whispered against stone as several men stumbled back. Danaos sprang to his feet, one hand on the queen’s shoulder, the other gripping his sword hilt, eyes blazing at Leukos.
Alena’s heart hammered. She hadn’t expected him to defend her so fiercely. His raw power made her throat tighten. “Leukos…” she whispered.
The frost inched closer to Philistos.
Leukos’ expression darkened. “Disrespect her again, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”
“Your Majesty!” Philistos squeaked, shrinking behind the dais like a frightened rat.
Before Charis could respond, the great doors slammed open. Despoina strode in, flanked by two soldiers in worn riding leathers. Without so much as a glance at the frost or trembling priest, she announced, “Urgent news. Soldiers posted along the eastern walls have spotted smoke on the horizon.”
A ripple of unrest swept through the councilmen. Some craned their necks towards the doors as if they could see the fires, others turned wide eyes on the queen, waiting for her word.
Charis pulled free of Danaos, her amber gown swirling as she descended the polished steps. “What? Where?”
Leukos’ magic faded at once, the pale blue light flickering out like a dying ember. Alena turned to him, but his face was unreadable, power subdued beneath calm restraint.
“It appears to be the hamlets along the riverbank,” one scout reported.
Danaos’ voice rumbled through the chamber. “The Twelfth Legion. They’ve made good on their threat.”
Despoina’s frown deepened. “Them, or another legion. The smoke is thick. The guards estimate dozens of fires.”
“We believe a whole cohort was sent to attack the villages around the river bend,” the scout added grimly.
Alarm spread through the ring of councilmen. Several muttered curses under their breath.
Blood drained from Charis’ face, her composure cracking. “A whole cohort?”
Alena’s stomach dropped. Five hundred soldiers would tear through those hamlets like wolves through sheep.
“They’ll massacre them,” Danaos spat, brow furrowed. “The Rasennans are out for blood.”
Leukos’ voice cut through the tension, sharp and cold as the ice he’d conjured moments ago. “Then we’ll give it to them.” His tone carried the unshakable confidence of someone who knew his strength.
Alena’s gaze flicked to him. He stood tall, expression unwavering, as though facing down five hundred soldiers were no more daunting than a morning drill.
Charis shook her head, shadowed by grim reality. “What can we do against five hundred? Our army is tied down by the siege, and Danaos and Despoina can only move so many.”
Leukos stepped forward, determination hardening his features. “You accuse me of betraying the alliance, yet I do not take our promise lightly. With my men, I will defend our people against the Rasennans—all the way to Argos if I must.”
Several councilmen shifted at his words—half in fear, half in hope—while others avoided his gaze altogether.
Charis held his stare, scepticism still in her eyes.
“And I’ll go with him,” Alena said without hesitation, her voice ringing clear. “As will the .”
Danaos and Charis exchanged a quick glance, unspoken understanding passing between them. Danaos gave a sharp nod. “Then we leave now. If we don’t stop the Rasennans, those villages won’t survive the night.”
Leukos turned to him. “How many can you move at once?”
“Over such a short distance, Despoina and I can manage three dozen at a time with their horses,” Danaos answered. Despite their earlier conflict, grudging respect edged his tone. They had a common enemy now.
Leukos nodded once, already calculating. “That will do.” His eyes swept to Nik. “Find Theo—we’ll need him. Then join Pelagios and take the best men you have. Meet us at the gates, and make sure they know what happened. Some might have family out there.”
Nik gave a curt nod and, in a blur, vanished from the chamber.
“Councilmen”—Charis’ voice rang out as she turned back towards the dais—“with me. We’ll coordinate with the healers and prepare for the wounded.”
The gathered men hesitated, exchanging uneasy looks before shuffling after their queen.
Charis cast a brief, steady look at Danaos, a silent exchange between husband and wife, before sweeping from the throne room, the long folds of her peplos trailing behind as guards and councilmen followed.