And as infuriatingly stubborn as ever.
Yet something about her was different. Her skin was sallow, sweat beading her temples despite the cool breeze drifting through the window. She moved with an edge that unsettled him, pacing back and forth in front of the bed like one of the arena tigers trapped in their cages.
She seemed agitated. Restless.
“You took something from me,” she said, “and I’d like it back.”
He held her gaze, hoping to find a glimmer of the trust they had once shared, but her expression gave him nothing.
He cleared his throat. “How about you start by telling us why you’re here?”
Still watching him, she reached for the water jug on the table and raised it to her lips. “You’re the one who brought me here.” Her tone was smooth yet threaded with challenge.
She drank slowly, water slipping past her lips and tracing a line down her chin and neck, vanishing into the hollow of her collarbone. The air in the room thickened, and a prickle of heat crawled up the back of Nik’s neck.
He turned his attention back to Leukos. They’d spent two days trying to piece together why the Rasennans had sent her to Tiryns.
“Let me guess,” he said, his voice steady again, though tension coiled beneath the surface. “They asked you to find a way into the city.”
Her smile curved into a feral grin. “Yes, so they can kill the queen.”
The bluntness of her statement didn’t faze him. He only shook his head, jaw clenched. “I see history is repeating itself.”
Katell stopped pacing. The sudden stillness was jarring.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Nik ran a hand over the stubble on his cheek, the roughness grounding him. Most Achaeans knew his role in the massacre. He’d never denied it. But tellingherwas different.
Once Katell knew, there would be no going back. Her opinion of him, already strained, would turn ugly. Whatever thread still tied them together might snap. Yet if he wanted to earn her trust again, he had to tell her. He owed her the truth and couldn’t let her hear it from someone else.
Not this.
He drew in a slow breath.
“As a child,” he said at last, voice low, “I was tasked with leading Rasennan soldiers into the besieged city of Megara.”
Katell’s frown deepened. The chain around her ankle gave a faintclinkas she stepped forward. “By who?”
“My father,” Nik replied, the words splintering his throat. “Him, and two other Silver Shields who turned traitor to the king. I was just a boy, but I knew the sewer system. It’s where I used to train, where I practised using my Gift.”
He swallowed hard, the memory of the dark, damp tunnels twisting inside him like rot.
Katell didn’t flinch. “What happened?”
“The soldiers invaded the palace and killed everyone inside.” A tight knot coiled in his chest with each word. “The royal family, the court, the servants.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Everyone.”
The sunlit room seemed to darken with his confession. Only the distant trickle of water from a fountain broke the silence.
“The Megarian massacre,” Katell said, turning to Leukos. “Your family.”
Leukos remained silent, his emotions hidden behind his usual stoic mask.
Nik nodded.
Katell’s lips pressed into a thin line, as if a hard truth had settled in. “That’s why those Achaeans called you a traitor,” she said softly. “Back at the arena.”
The memory struck Nik like a jolt. It felt like a lifetime ago. “You remember that?” he asked, unable to hide his surprise. He’d assumed she’d want to bury the past. But she hadn’t.
