Chapter 19

The opportunity Helenos had been waiting for arrived three days later, carried on a cold wind that rattled the bronze bars of his balcony. The air in the sanctuary was thick with a new tension; the quiet, domestic life Menelaia had built was being pierced by the harsh reality of the world outside. Messengers had been arriving at the gates since dawn, bringing word of a great fleet moving closer to the Spartan coast. The name Agamemnon was whispered in the corridors like a curse, and the scent of war drifted upward into the high isolation of the tower.

Menelaia paced the room, her crimson robes swishing against the marble floor like a sharpening blade. She looked at Helenos, her eyes darting between her desire to keep him tucked away and the duty calling her to the war room. Her jaw was set in a thin line of stress that royal composure could not hide.

"I have to go," she said finally, her voice tight. "The Northern Queens and the generals are waiting in the great hall. They want a strategy, and they are frightened. Frightened women are difficult to lead."

Helenos stood slowly, his movements fluid and soft, perfectly mimicking a man at peace whose edges had been smoothed away by time and medicine. He walked over and took her hands, feeling the nervous heat radiating from her skin. He looked into her eyes with a depth of simulated devotion, his face a mask of serenity.

"Go, my Queen," he whispered. "Sparta needs its leader. I will be here, waiting for your return. The quiet you gave me is enough to keep me company until the sun sets. Do not let their fear disturb your own heart."

I hope they argue until their throats are raw, he thought, maintaining his gentle gaze. I hope they become so obsessed with the horizon that they forget I even exist.

Menelaia pulled him into a sudden, crushing hug, burying her face in his chest. For a moment, his mask almost slipped as he felt the raw edge of her desperation. She didn't just want him as a trophy; she needed him to be her refuge—a living sanctuary from the iron that defined her life.

"I will double the guard at the door," she murmured against his tunic. "Stay away from the balcony. The wind is getting cold, and I cannot have you falling ill. You are too precious."

"I will," he promised, his fingers softly stroking her hair.

She gave him a hard, demanding kiss and then she was gone. The bronze doors slammed shut with a finality that shook the floor, and the heavy thud of the locks echoed through the room like a gavel. Helenos stood still, listening to the fading sound of her golden sandals until they were swallowed by the palace.

As the silence settled, he reached into his secret pocket and gripped the bronze coin. He didn't see any glowing lights, but the moment his skin touched the metal, his mind sharpened. It was as if a layer of heavy dust had been wiped away. His pulse slowed, and his senses expanded. He didn't need anyone to tell him she had left; he could feel the shift in the atmosphere, the pressure in the room lifting the further she moved away.

The time was finally here. He knew the guards would be rotating soon, and if the young man from the garden was who Helenos hoped, this was the only moment to act. He walked to the bronze doors and leaned his forehead against the cold metal, listening to the low murmur of the two men standing watch.

"She's finally gone to the council," one whispered. "The others were already shouting before the doors even closed. They say the fleet is so large it turns the sea white."

"Quiet," the other replied, his voice younger and steadier. "The Prince has ears, and the Queen has no mercy for gossips."

Helenos felt a jolt of recognition. He took the coin and began to tap it against the inside of the door in a specific, rhythmic sequence.

Tap-tap... pause... tap.

He waited, breath held, feeling the vibration of the metal against his skin. Outside, the talking stopped abruptly. There was an agonizing silence where the only sound was the thudding of his own heart. Then, a soft, answering thud came from the other side.

Tap-tap... pause... tap.

"Is something wrong, my Prince?" the younger guard called out, his tone carrying a hidden edge of urgency.

"I feel a bit faint," Helenos said, pitching his voice to sound weak. "The tea... I think I spilled some. I don't want to slip. Could you bring a cloth? Just for a moment?"

"The Queen said no one enters, Silas," the older guard grumbled.

"I’ll handle it," the younger one insisted. "If the Prince breaks a bone because he slipped while we stood here, the Queen will have both our heads. Just keep a lookout for the Captain."

The lock turned with a heavy, mechanical clack, and the door groaned open a few inches. The young guard stepped inside, pulling the door shut but not latching it. He was tall, his breastplate gleaming in the dim light. He didn't look at Helenos with the vacant stare of a servant; his eyes were sharp and filled with a grim purpose. He reached into his belt and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of parchment.

"My name is Elian," he whispered. "Thaila sent me. She’s safe for now, hiding in the lower city, but the hunters are searching. She says the coin is only half of what you need."

Helenos took the parchment, his fingers trembling. I need more than a token; I need a path.

"What do I have to do?"

"The council will last until midnight," Elian said, his eyes darting to the door. "Tonight, the servant who brings your tea will be delayed. I will be on the night watch at the garden gate. If you can get out of this room when the halls are empty, I can get you to the cliffs. But you have to move before the moon reaches its peak. If you miss that window, the patrols double."

"The tea," Helenos said, glancing at the tray. "She watches me drink it."

"Then don't be in your bed when she brings it," Elian replied, his grip on Helenos’s shoulder firm. "The city is waking up. They’re calling for the Golden Treasure to lead them. If you don't leave tonight, she’ll march you to the front lines as a mascot, and you'll never see the mountains again."

Suddenly, Helenos felt a sharp prickle of intuition—a cold spike of adrenaline warning him the hallway was no longer empty.

"Someone’s coming," he whispered.

Elian nodded once and slipped out with the silence of a shadow. The bronze door clicked shut just as heavy footsteps marched past—the changing of the inner guard.

Helenos stood in the center of the room, smoothing out the parchment. It wasn't a letter; it was a sequence of symbols mixed with precise measurements of the palace’s foundation. He realized it was a set of directions through the hidden servant passages. Thaila hadn't just taught him history; she had been teaching him the blueprint of his prison, stone by stone.

He looked at the tea on the table, its surface calm and dark. For the first time, he didn't feel like a doll. He walked to the balcony and looked toward the horizon, where the sun was beginning to dip, casting long, bloody shadows over the city.

I am not a treasure, he thought, his hand closing over the coin until the metal bit into his palm. I am the one who remembers and who will remember. And tonight, I am leaving.

He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, memorizing every line on the parchment. He turned the ink into a living path in his mind, tracing the turns and hidden doors. He would play the part of the loving Prince one last time, but beneath the silk and the hollow smiles, he was already halfway to the mountains.

Thank you for reading. If you found out the weird part of the last chapter, good job! If not… uh… well… Whatever! I know I’ve been late for a long time. So… uh… Thank you for reading. I try to add some gender-reversed stuff but… I failed

Well. The last chapter was ai. I was trying to prove to people that readers don’t know if a chapter is ai… sorry. I’m really sorry. I hate myself and is really disgusted at the fact I did that. I will not ask for forgiveness since it will make me despise myself more. Thank you for reading and have a nice day everyone.

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