Leukos came to an abrupt halt, teeth grinding. Slowly, he glanced back, meeting Philistos’ cold, disapproving sneer. The priest stood beside Charis, whispering something in her ear.
Charis’ lips pressed into a thin line, her expression sharpening into displeasure. “I know you care little for the gods, Prince Leukos—and I understand why.” Her voice, deliberate and steady, carried across the hall. “But Tiryns depends on the Grey-Eyed Maiden’s barrier for protection, on the Giver’s blessing for our harvests, and the Sea God’s endless waters. I have a duty to protect my people and honour the gods. That cannot be ignored.”
A ripple of murmurs followed her declaration. Some nobles nodded; others exchanged uncertain glances.
Behind Leukos, the rebels shifted uneasily. Theo caught his eye, offering the barest shake of his head—a silent warning.
“My queen,” Leukos said, his voice tight with restraint. “Let me go to the gates and confront whatever danger approaches.”
Charis didn’t hesitate. “General Danaos is at the gates and will protect us as the wedding continues.” She arched an eyebrow. “Are you questioning my general’s ability?”
Leukos let out a short, bitter laugh. “Honestly? Yes.”
If a Rasennan legate had slipped into Tiryns, how much damage could they cause before being stopped? Rasennan legates had years of war experience, whereas Danaos had none.
Charis’ expression hardened. “I do not permit it.” Her sharp tone clipped with finality. “Philistos, let us proceed with the rituals.”
The priest bowed. “As you wish, my queen.”
Without another glance at Leukos, Charis turned, her gown whispering against stone as she moved towards the firepit and waiting altar. Despoina fell in step beside her, guards following in practised formation. The nobles, ever obedient, trailed behind as the priest signalled them forward.
Leukos clicked his tongue, jaw tight with frustration.
“Steady,” Theo murmured, stepping beside him. “The front gates aren’t the only way into the palace. There are two smaller gates near the residential quarters—we can sneak someone out.”
Nik leaned in from behind. “I’ll go,” he whispered. “See what we’re up against.”
Leukos gave a discreet nod. “Go. Be quick.”
In an instant, Nik disappeared in a blur, slipping out before the Tirynthian guards noticed. The rebels closed ranks, forming a wall of support behind their prince.
Leukos stepped forward, forcing himself to summon control over his Gift as the priest approached with a bronze basin. The water inside shimmered with rosemary and bay leaves—symbols of purification. Leukos dipped his hands, scrubbedthem quickly, and dried them on a linen cloth offered by an attendant.
He took his place beside Charis at the edge of the firepit, the scent of burnt offerings—barley, wine, and herbs—coiling into the air. Philistos lifted his hands to the sky and began the invocation, intoning the names of the Twelve.
Charis lowered her head. The nobles behind her murmured their responses, voices blending with the priest’s chant.
Heat licked at Leukos’ face, but it wasn’t the flames that set him on edge—it was the shouts echoing beyond the palace walls and the deep, pounding drums that grew louder with every beat, each one a warning no one else seemed willing to heed.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.
Charis kept her head bowed. “I was wrong for trying to escape the vow our parents made,” she whispered. “We must marry before our selfish choices doom us all.”
A sudden commotion erupted at the Great Hall’s entrance. Heads turned.
Nik had been seized—two guards gripping his arms, another pressing a spearpoint to his throat.
“Your Majesty,” one guard called, dragging Nik forward, “we caught the traitor trying to sneak back inside the palace.”
Charis whirled on Leukos. “What is the meaning of this?”
Leukos opened his mouth to respond, but stilled. Nik’s face had gone pale.
A knot twisted in Leukos’ gut. He strode towards the guards, his voice edged with steel. “Release him, if you know what’s good for you.”
The guards hesitated, then backed off, hands raised. Nik shook them off and stumbled forward, his gaze fixed on Leukos—until a slow grin spread across his face.
“She’s here,” he said, laughing in pure relief. “She’s alive. She’s here!”
