Pherenike - Chapter 102

‘It’s time our friends know the truth about you, Nike.’

‘…’

‘When they enter the palace, they must find you and your child before anyone else.’

Deucalion’s words drifted through her mind like a fleeting dream. Leuce’s small hand carefully wrapped around her mother’s finger.

Pherenike gazed toward the entrance of the sanctuary, as if she were looking into the distance. The interior was narrow and stretched far back, and the curtain hung over the open door fluttering lightly in the breeze.

“Leuce.”

“Ung?”

“Do you remember what your mother taught you here the other day?”

The child’s eyes sparkled with the faith of someone who truly believes in eternal happiness. In response to her mother’s soft whisper, Leuce answered with a whisper of her own.

“Yes. I haven’t forgotten.”

Pherenike glanced again at the doorway. The altar was so far from the door that they couldn’t hear a sound, but in Lykke, suspicion was a way of life. So was doubting one’s own suspicion.

Here in the palace, she always had to appear as someone with nothing to fear or hide. As if she had no reason to be afraid, no sins to conceal, and no secret alliances with anyone.

That was why, in this little sanctuary, she left the door always open, closing only the curtain.

At that moment, Leuce’s main caretaker—the same woman who’d nursed Actor—was outside. With a mischievous smile, Pherenike leaned in to share a secret, as if they were plotting a childish scheme. A mother’s smile was a rare gift, and Leuce wrinkled her nose in delight, smiling back.

“If someone ever tries to hurt you—if it ever comes to the point where no one can protect you—what are you supposed to do?”

“I have to come here and hide, no matter what. And make no sound.”

“Show me how.”

Leuce crossed to the altar. Her chubby fingers searched for the tiniest gap between the stones just as her mother had shown her. After several tries, she found the hidden latch and triggered it.

This secret door would be almost impossible for a stranger to find, and even if someone did spot the suspicious gap, opening it wasn’t so easy.

Pherenike had only learned of the small space beneath the stone thanks to the doorframe’s daemon. Once, she’d dismissed such spirits as useless chatter, but after giving birth to Leuce, her opinion changed.

There was a soft click, and the flat stone lifted upward. Leuce, as if playing a game, slipped beneath it. Even though she knew she could heal any bump or bruise, the steep steps made Pherenike anxious.

The princess did as she’d been taught by her mother, closing the small door above her head before emerging again.

“Inside, you stay silent. Not a single sound.”

“Okay.”

“Even if someone comes and calls you, you don’t answer. Not until you hear your mother’s voice.”

“Okay.”

“No matter how familiar the voice is, you mustn’t respond.”

“Not even Ino?”

“That’s right.”

For Leuce, there was no one she could truly trust—not that day. Not even Deucalion’s people, and certainly not Actor’s.

If she was Actor Nikandros’s son, someone would save her no matter what. An heir was always a valuable asset, a spark to keep the fire burning.

But Leuce was none of those things. Even if Ino meant well, she was just a middle-aged woman, barely able to protect herself. If Pherenike’s betrayal was discovered, her daughter’s name would be lost and forgotten.

Whenever war broke out, the princess was the easiest target for revenge. If her mother was marked as ‘unclean,’ it was even worse. Even if Actor’s guards were loyal to the last, who could say they’d keep her safe in the chaos? Blades were everywhere.

Better this place, under the goddess’s protection. Leuce Pelagon was the child chosen by the goddess….

“What if father calls me?”

“…”

“If he says, ‘Leuce’?”

“That’s right. Not even for your father.”

“Not even for Actor Nikandros?”

Leuce whispered, as if the man she called ‘father’ and the man she called ‘Actor Nikandros’ were two separate people. Pherenike only nodded toward the statue, telling her to continue.

“If this hiding place is found, where do you go next?”

The girl, repeating what she’d been taught, hurried to the statue of Kybellar, who looked down on them from the altar.

No one would dare commit murder in the sight of the goddess. If her small body was dragged out, so be it, but even then, attacking someone who had called on the goddess’s name for protection was sacrilege—a cursed dishonor.

Even if they intended to kill her, at least there would be a moment of hesitation, time for Pherenike to reach her.

“I’ve pledged my soul to Kybellar, so my spirit belongs to her shadow.”

“I’ve, pledged …”

Leuce repeated, stumbling over her mother’s long words. Patiently, Pherenike helped her through. After dozens of tries, her daughter managed to recite it all in a clear, quiet voice, proud of her accomplishment.

“I’m going to tell father!”

“This is our secret, you know.”

“Right. But what about Actor Nikandros?”

Even now, the child wanted to find a way to share her proud accomplishment with her father.