The goddess depicted was the Cyprian, born from the sea.
The irony wasn’t lost on him.
Closing his eyes the way Alena had shown him, Leukos focused on the rhythm of his breathing. Each inhale and exhale was deliberate, an attempt to centre himself. He visualised his magic—once a cool, fluid river, now a violent torrent that refused his command. The control he’d painstakingly honed slipped further from his grasp with every attempt to reclaim it.
Frustration gnawed at him. Theo and Nik urged him to be patient, but patience had never been his strength.
All day he had worked through each limb—left leg, right leg, left arm, right hand, left shoulder—over and over, willing the North Wind’s power to become familiar again. Yet the weight of his family’s legacy pressed down like a suffocating shroud. If his father and brother could see him now, they’d be ashamed. Gifted never lost control; for a prince of Megara, such weakness was practically a curse. King Pandion had demanded perfection from his sons, an expectation Leukos had felt deeply all his life. He could almost hear King Pandion’s sharp voice—disappointment that always cut deepest when turned on Galen, his brother born without a Gift.
Weakness was not tolerated.
His father had wielded his Gift with iron control. Aegeus, the golden child, had commanded water as effortlessly as breathing—a Gift from the Sea God woven into his very being. By comparison, Leukos felt like an impostor, wrestling with magic that resisted him at every turn.
“Practice makes perfect.” Aegeus’ calm voice blended with Alena’s gentle encouragement in his mind. Both urged him on, pushing him to wrestle this wild magic into submission and rise above the doubt threatening to drown him.
But he’d already hurt an innocent servant—and Alena herself—when she insisted on helping him. He couldn’t risk losing control again.
While the palace revelled in the continued celebrations of Charis and Danaos late into the night, Leukos trained alone. The fountain’s trickling rhythm steadied his focus.
He plunged his hand into the water, feeling its gentle current slip over his skin, then released his Gift. The temperature plummeted, freezing into a sheath of ice around his fingers. Counting to three, he exhaled, forcing the magic to obey. It resisted, thrumming against his will, but with enough effort, he managed to steady it.
His frustration mounted. It had taken too long, too much energy.
Refusing to relent, he repeated the process again and again, each attempt more demanding than the last.
By the time he finished, much of the basin had frozen solid, the air grown sharp with cold. Exhaustion pulled at his limbs, but satisfaction tempered it. Progress, however small, was still progress.
“The Cyprian might take offence if you destroy her fountain.”
Theo stepped into the garden, a deep blue cloak wrapped around his shoulders. The Tirynthian nights were still cold, though Leukos hardly noticed.
“I didn’t destroy it. The ice will thaw soon.” He turned to his friend, wiping the sweat from his face. “How were the celebrations?”
Theo scowled, looking rather sober despite all the wine that flowed in the Great Hall. “Excessive. As if the Tirynthians are overjoyed that Charis doesn’t have to marry a Megarian after all.”
Leukos’ brow furrowed, his expression mirroring Theo’s unease. “You think the alliance could be in jeopardy?”
“With the Omega on our side, I doubt it.” Theo ran a hand over the short-cropped hair at his temple. When his gaze flicked back to Leukos, his eyes held a quiet intensity, reflecting the wisdom Gifted to him by the Maiden. Moonlight caught the inside of his upper arm, revealing the greyish-blue Mark of an olive branch—a Gift from the Maiden. Like his ancestor Andromeda, Theo had been granted wisdom, making him an unparalleled strategist.
People often underestimated him because his Gift wasn’t as flashy as elemental magic, but Leukos knew better. Theo’s counsel had been vital to the rebellion, from concealing theirgrowing numbers to managing supply lines. Leukos trusted his judgement implicitly.
“The Tirynthians may act proud,” Theo continued evenly, “but with the siege, they need allies more than ever. Our arrival has given hope to their people and the surrounding kingdoms. Once word of the Omega spreads, rebels from across Achaea will flock to the gates.”
Tiryns’ army numbered three thousand strong, and since arriving in the city, Leukos had made it a priority to train with them daily. As the rebellion’s leader, it was crucial the men knew him, understood his strategies, and respected his command.
Trust had to be built not only with the soldiers but with the council as well. While Pelagios oversaw drills and Nik focused on integrating new recruits, Theo and Xanthos handled negotiations with Charis and her court.
No matter their preparations, the Twelfth Legion remained camped outside the city. And the Rasennans would stop any Achaeans who tried to slip into Tiryns to join the rebellion.
Leukos’ thoughts churned. “We need to do something about the enemy currently camped outside.”
“And we will,” Theo replied, stifling a yawn. The hour was already late. “Let’s gather the others in the morning. The wedding rituals will be over, and the guests will have left.”
The last notes of music from the Great Hall faded, signalling the end of the celebrations. Soon the prayers to the Mother and Hearth would begin, and then Charis and Danaos would retire to their chambers as husband and wife.
Without Alena’s sudden arrival, it could have been Leukos by Charis’ side.
And now, by some twist of fate, he had a second chance.
