Cheers erupted, their jubilance reverberating through the streets. Hooves pounded against cobblestone, the rhythmic clatter quickening the pulse in my veins. Then he appeared.
Kallias.
A sharp inhale escaped me as Gayle clutched my arm, grounding me where I stood.
He looked like a specter from a nightmare, drenched in gore. Blood streaked his face and matted his hair, turning its golden strands into deep mahogany. His tunic stuck to him, soaked and stiff with dried carnage. The gold of his armor caught glimmers of light through streaks of crimson, a haunting contrast. His spear hung at his side, still crusted with violence, ragged bits of flesh clinging to its edge.
Our eyes met.
Cornflower blue, piercing through the horror. My breath hitched. His bloodied brow furrowed, but the intensity softened as his gaze lingered.
“Give him space,” Gayle murmured, pulling me toward the edge of the street.
“Why?” The question escaped, though I allowed her to guide me.
Even as he passed, his attention never wavered from mine.
She leaned closer, her voice low. “He’s more than a king now—a warrior bound by vengeance and death. Until it’s washed away, nothing else exists for him.” Her gaze flicked to me, a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “The man you know will return, but not before the blood is gone.”
Kallias dismounted with a warrior’s grace, his movements deliberate and heavy. The crowd parted in hushed reverence as he ascended the stairs, leaving only the smell of iron and the memory of his unwavering gaze behind.
I bit down on my lip, my eyes locked on him as he ascended the steps. His gait faltered, uneven yet somehow commanding. Each stride carried a predatory grace, marred by exhaustion.
Gayle dipped into a curtsy, tugging me down with her. Across from us, Dageel and Clay bowed low, clearing a path to the estate.
Greaves trailed behind at a measured distance. Blood flecked his face, but his dark armor concealed further gore. His gaze flicked to mine, and his frown deepened.
Kallias reached the top of the stairs and stopped before the doors. Silence swept through the crowd. I peeked up at him, catching his bare hand curled into a tight fist, knuckles white, before relaxing, as if restraining himself from hitting someone… or reaching out.
“You have our eternal gratitude, Golden Warrior of Elohios,” Dageel called out, chin still dipped in reverence.
Kallias gave a low grunt, pushing the doors open with a single, forceful motion. Their hinges groaned in protest, the sound loud enough to stir the quiet.
A heavy silence descended, like a thick blanket of fog, and every gaze turned toward the entrance in unison. When Greaves stepped inside, he pulled the doors shut with a firm motion.
“Is he angry?” I whispered, scanning the throng, now chattering with renewed fervor. Clay clapped Dageel on the shoulder, laughter rippling between them.
“Perhaps,” Gayle murmured, her sharp eyes studying me. “But not with us—at the circumstances.” She let out a shallow sigh, pressing her lips together. “Come. We’ll stay in the library until dinner.”
The estate entrance loomed ahead, plain and unassuming, yet it felt impenetrable. A pit formed in my stomach. I longed to be close to him but dreaded my possible failure to fulfill my end of the bargain—or worse, that he might mock my attempt.
Dageel swung the doors open, and Gayle led me through the dim corridors, her steps hesitant, her head low, as though treading near a volatile storm.
She paused at a doorway, her hand lingering on the frame. Her face darkened with sorrow, the corners of her mouth pulling taut. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned and opened the opposite door.
Sunlight poured into the room, illuminating its cozy interior. A soft sofa rested in the sunbeam, surrounded by bookshelves that stretched along the walls. Dust floated in the golden light, shimmering. Beneath our feet, a thick rug muffled every sound, adding a fragile stillness to the air.
I moved to the window, clasping my hands at my back, the cool glass reflecting a distorted version of the room. Behind me, she lowered herself onto the sofa without a word. My teeth caught on my lip as unease prickled along my skin. She remained here, in the same space, while Greaves, who answered only to his king, stood guard, and Gayle had made it clear she wouldn’t interfere.
But where was Kallias? Had he taken the room across the hall? The thought of slipping into his chamber churned in my mind, potential humiliation tightening my throat. Would he turn me away? Would servants whisper?
“Gayle–”
“Nienna–”
I spun, words dying on my tongue as her sharp tone cut through the silence. “Yes?”
She stood again, hands rubbing together in restless loops. Worry etched her face, her mouth tight as though struggling to shape her thoughts. “It’s not my place—not at all—and I beg your forgiveness if Ioverstep.” Her grimace deepened before she continued. “Something happened between you two. Anyone with half a brain can see it.”
