Chapter 53
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
LEUKOS
Kaixo stayed out with Apollo for two days, slipping into the village only to steal food or snatch a few hours of sleep in Leukos’ bed while he trained.
He avoided everyone, though he was never entirely alone—Nik, Theo, and even Leywani took turns keeping watch from a distance, making sure he was never too far.
Leukos finally found him crouched beside a narrow creek, humming under his breath, fingers skimming the water’s surface while Apollo lay curled against him, a silent grey shadow.
The creek wound lazily through the meadow, its banks lush with new grass and peppered with tiny yellow wildflowers.
Overhead, the sun broke through thinning clouds, its warmth carrying the promise of a gentle late-spring day, perfect for the ceremony in the afternoon.
Marriage.
To Alena.
Leukos still couldn’t believe it himself. After everything they’d endured—and all that still loomed ahead—a wedding should’ve been the furthest thought from their minds.
But it wasn’t. Somehow, it felt like the only choice that made sense in a world unravelling around them.
Let the legions come, let Katell and Laran unleash their demons. Leukos would meet them all head-on, sword in hand and no regrets in his heart—for he would go not only as a warrior, but as her husband.
Her family.
The thought sent a tight ache through his chest. Alena could’ve had anyone she wished. She was fierce, kind, and so godsdamn beautiful, and he was just the boy forged from loneliness and despair.
And yet, she’d chosen him.
Not because the Sea God had declared them soulmates. Not because the Fates had decreed it. She’d chosen him because she saw him—truly saw him for who he was, massacre and all—and still reached out her hand.
That truth brought him to his knees more than any sword ever could.
If the rest of the world was about to burn, so be it. He had her. And that meant everything.
When Leukos reached the creek, Kaixo finally noticed him. The boy’s face was pale with fatigue, eyes red-rimmed but dry. He offered a faint, half-hearted smile before returning to the crude spear he carved with the blade Leukos had given him.
Leukos sat beside him, watching the stick wobble under each forceful scrape. He let the silence stretch before speaking. “We were searching for you.”
Kaixo kept his head down. “Apollo was with me,” he muttered. The wolf, stretched out nearby, flicked an ear at his name but didn’t stir.
“Alena was worried about you,” Leukos continued, “and so was I.”
“I don’t care.” Kaixo’s voice cracked, and he dug the blade harder into the wood. “I hate her.”
Leukos frowned at the boy’s harsh tone, yet his younger self would have understood.
How many times had he cursed his loved ones in anger?
“No,” he murmured. “You don’t. You’re hurting.
You lost your mother, and the world has been crueller to you than to most. I know you’re angry, and you have every reason to be. I know that feeling well.”
Kaixo’s hands stilled. “Your mother’s dead, too?”
“Yes,” Leukos said softly. “And my father. And my older brother. The Rasennans killed them. I was a couple of years older than you. I was the one who found their bodies. And I remember how angry I was. At everything. At the gods. At people who tried to help. I didn’t want their pity. I wanted my family back.”
Kaixo cut him a quick glance, his eyebrows drawn tight. “What happened?”
“I pushed everyone away,” Leukos said, resting his arms across his knees. “For years, I wandered alone. I fought because I had nothing else. And I was still lost.”
He let that settle for a heartbeat.
“Then I met Alena.” His voice softened, raw and reverent. “And she didn’t try to fix me. She just… saw me. And stayed. And now, she’s helping me remember who I was before all the pain.”
Kaixo was quiet, the half-carved spear sagging between his hands.
“You don’t have to like her right now,” Leukos continued, “but don’t hate the one person who wants to love you and is trying to protect you.”
Kaixo’s jaw tightened. “I don’t need protection. I don’t need anyone.”
Leukos allowed the silence to stretch between them. Then, without judgement, he said, “That’s the thing about family. Real family. They stay. Even when you’re pushing them away. Even when you say you don’t want them.”
Kaixo didn’t answer, but his fingers curled a little tighter around the stick. The blade trembled in his grip.
Apollo lifted his head and leaned it against the boy’s knee.
“Damona will take good care of you while we’re gone,” Leukos said gently. “Just until Alena and I return.”
Kaixo’s shoulders slumped. “I’d rather be with you.”
“I know.” Leukos’ heart tightened at the honesty in the boy’s voice. “I’d rather have you with me, too.” Then, slowly, he let a smile ghost across his face, a small effort to lift the weight between them.
He reached forward and picked up the carved spear from Kaixo’s lap, turning it over in his hands. The point was uneven, but it was a start. Leukos pulled out his own blade and began refining the tip with practised strokes.
“Tell me,” he said in a lighter tone, “have you ever been to a wedding?”
That caught Kaixo off guard. His head snapped up, the bitterness in his expression replaced by curiosity. “No,” he answered after a beat. “Our master in Kisra wouldn’t allow it, even though his family had two weddings. But we got more food that day. Fresh food, too. Not the rotten stuff.”
Leukos’ stomach sank at Kaixo’s words, but he didn’t let it show.
If Alena hadn’t found him in that slave market…
where would the boy be now? Still in chains?
Dead? Forgotten? He pushed the thought aside and forced warmth into his voice.
“Well, you’re invited to this one. And you can eat as much as you like.
No rules or scraps. Just a celebration.”
Kaixo blinked. “Whose wedding is it?”
“Mine. And Alena’s. We’re getting married.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Really? You like her that much?”
A laugh escaped Leukos. “Yes. I like her very, very much.” He returned to the spear in his hands, assessing its rough edge. “And we would both like you to be part of the ceremony.”
“Really?!” Kaixo practically bounced upright, his gloom replaced by pure excitement. “What do I have to do?”
“The Westerners celebrate weddings with a special circle,” Leukos explained—though he’d never attended one himself. He was only repeating what the royal tutors had taught him long ago. “Friends and family stand around us, each holding a sacred item.”
“Like a sword? Or a spear?” Kaixo asked, eyeing the one in Leukos’ hand.
Leukos nodded. “Could be. But it has to be something that matters to you.”
Kaixo fell quiet, thoughtful. Then he reached into the pouch at his belt and pulled out the small wooden figure Leukos had carved for him the previous year—a tiny effigy of the Non-Humans’ goddess.
“Can I hold Ama?” His voice was softer, almost reverent. “She’s the only sacred thing I own. And my mama… she said our goddess would protect Alena.”
Something in Leukos’ chest pulled tight, and he gave a solemn nod. “Of course.” He rose and held out his hand. “Come on, then. The wedding is today. Will you get ready with me?”
Kaixo startled upright, his eyes going wide again. Apollo leapt up beside him, tail swishing in the tall grass. “Today? But I don’t have anything to wear!”
Leukos smiled and handed him the spear. “I’m sure Damona will have a fresh tunic for you. She spent all of yesterday organising the ceremony. I doubt she forgot you.”
Kaixo took the spear with both hands, gripping it as though it were something sacred. They started back towards the village, the fields swaying golden around them, morning light streaking through the trees ahead.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Kaixo edged closer, his voice soft, almost blending with the wind stirring the grass. “Damona seems like a nice lady.”
Leukos nodded once, then drew the boy in with a steady arm around his shoulders. Kaixo glanced up in surprise, but this time he didn’t pull away.
During his short life, Leukos had faced assassins sent by the Emperor, the Blood Wolf tracking him across the Empire, and Rasennan legions. He’d even stood before the Sea God himself. And yet he’d never been so nervous.
Even on his wedding day to Charis, he hadn’t felt this way.
Back then, he had been ready to shoulder his duty—hollow, detached.
How wrong he’d been: adrift, a shadow moving through life without purpose.
Alena, however, stirred something different within him; she made him feel alive, every pulse and breath sharp with possibility.
Standing in the sacred circle, beneath the shade of a towering oak, he tried not to fidget with the crown of antlers woven with dried oak leaves resting atop his head.
You are a prince of Megara, his father’s voice thundered in his mind, stern as ever. Stand tall. And stop fidgeting.
He straightened his spine, grounding himself with a quiet breath when memories of his parents rose up. Alena was no princess, but as the Omega and his soulmate, his father would have respected her. And as for his mother, Leukos liked to believe she would’ve loved Alena and welcomed her warmly.
Sunshine broke through the branches overhead, soft golden shafts dappling the circle. The scent of lavender drifted in from the surrounding fields, soothing but doing nothing to steady his nerves.
He shifted his weight, bare feet sinking into the damp grass.
His simple white linen tunic, embroidered in blues and bronze, clung lightly to his skin, a dark-blue cloak draped over his shoulders.
Compared to the extravagance of Tiryns, this ceremony was intimate and humble—fitting for him and Alena both.