Page 18 of A Dagger in the Ivy (Blade Bound #1)

C Hapter

The next morning, the breakfast table is full. As I approach, I’m in full view of the king, who examines my clothes with a frown. I didn’t feel like wearing another dress today, so I chose trousers and a white, flowy blouse.

Beside King Silas, Queen Eleanor sips tea, resplendent in her royal attire. The king, clad in regal robes of deep crimson and gold, sits with a commanding presence, his expression stern yet regal. The queen exudes grace and elegance in a gown of shimmering silver and sapphire, her expression serene yet watchful as she surveys the room. Her silver gloves shimmer as she lifts her teacup to her lips, and it’s then I realize I’ve never seen her without gloves. At first, I think it’s a statement of fashion, but when I realize that all her gowns tend to be high-necked and her skirts always reaching the floor, I come to the conclusion she is simply very modest, not wishing to show much of her skin.

As charming as it is to see the entire family gathered together in a symbol of unity, my stomach hardens when Dante locks eyes with me. There’s no telling if he’s revealed to them the little walk I took last night, but if he hasn’t yet, it doesn’t mean he won’t hold the incident over my head.

I ignore his glare and take my seat at the table. Nadya looks between Dante and me for a moment, her eyes narrowing before she follows my lead and slides into her seat. I haven’t mentioned anything that’s happened with Dante to her, but I won’t keep it a secret from her if she asks me. Later. When no one else is around.

My attention is drawn to Prince Torbin, his golden locks glinting in the morning light. Lounging back in his chair, his weight resting on his arm, he has a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Good morning, Celeste. I trust you slept well? You look positively radiant this morning.”

I’m about to answer, when Dante cuts in. “Oh, I don’t know. She looks as if she hardly slept at all.”

I almost flinch but control my expression. “I slept just fine, thank you.”

For a split second, Dante smirks, but his eyes train on the rim of his glass as he languidly trails his finger around it.

“Don’t pay my dear brother any mind, Celeste.” Torbin lets out a quick chuckle. “He’s always in a sour mood, but mornings are particularly worse for him.”

“Sounds like any man,” Nadya mumbles. When Torbin raises a brow, she clears her throat and grabs a fruit tart.

I seize the opportunity to change the topic, steeling myself for the inevitable resistance. “Your Majesty,” I begin, addressing King Silas directly. “I wanted to discuss the refugee camps. The situation grows direr by the day, and I fear we cannot continue to ignore the problem for much longer.”

The king’s expression tightens imperceptibly, a subtle indication of his displeasure. “Celeste, it has only been two days since I’ve sent my nightfeathers. Allow the plan to work. In the meantime, I have already extended our support to your cause. Our forges have been working overtime to supply your army with weapons, and we have unified our infantry with yours. Surely, that is enough for now?”

I nod, acknowledging his efforts, but refuse to be deterred. “I am grateful for your assistance, Your Majesty. But I don’t want the refugee crisis to fall to the wayside.”

King Axel’s brow furrows. “I understand your concerns, but the trade agreements with Mersos must be handled delicately. We cannot afford to jeopardize our economic stability.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, the lives of innocent people hang in the balance.”

The king clenches his jaw, his lips pressing into a straight slash, but before he can respond, my attention is drawn to Dante, who watches our exchange with a pointed intensity.

The queen, who has mostly remained silent up until now, sets her teacup down. There is a slight wince as she removes her fingers from the cup handle and places her hands in her lap. “Perhaps a bit of a compromise. We shall send a unit of our forces to the border to keep an eye on the situation. In the case that any refugees are spotted, our soldiers will deny them entry but will protect them from carnoraxis, should they be following them.”

The king turns his head slowly toward the queen. “Logistically, I’m not sure that would work.”

“Arrows travel far, from what I’ve seen. And it’s a better solution than doing nothing, at least until the disdain in Delasurvia settles down.” The queen only regards him for a moment before returning her focus on the food in front of her.

The king strokes his beard. “I suppose, if it pacifies the princess for the time being.”

It’s not much, but at least it’s something. He’s giving an inch, so I’ll act grateful for now and press for more later. “Thank you, Your Majesties.”

“I think it’s a good compromise,” Nadya puts in. “You’re very clever to have suggested it, Queen Eleanor.”

The queen’s lips quiver into a smile, and she inclines her head to Nadya.

I feel Nadya has sensed, as much as I have, how the king’s oppressive demeanor might affect the queen. And Nadya is nothing if not supportive of lifting up her fellow women, especially in times of need. Her compliment seems to have done the trick.

Perhaps sensing my lingering frustration, Torbin leans close, his voice a reassuring murmur. “I will keep abreast of the situation, Celeste,” he whispers, a glimmer of determination in his eyes.

I offer him a grateful nod, heartened by his support.

Dante shifts in his chair. “How refreshing that the princess, once again, gets everything she wants.” His gaze lingers for a moment before he rises abruptly, crossing the room and departing without a word.

“Ezra, I’m afraid I’m not alert enough to pay the proper attention your lessons deserve.” I push my hair away from my face, fighting off a headache. Not only am I suffering from lack of sleep, but the conversation at breakfast keeps replaying in my mind. Especially the remark Dante made. I feel bad for interrupting Ezra’s lessons on royal etiquette, but I’m not absorbing anything he’s saying.

“I understand, Your Highness.” Ezra’s lips pinch together when he realizes what he’s said. “Celeste. Would you like to get some rest?”

“Actually, I could do with some training.”

Nadya props her chin on her elbow. “I thought you said you weren’t alert. How are you going to be able to train?”

“It’s a chemical reaction,” Ezra answers for me. “The body’s system wakes up with physical activity.”

Nadya shakes her head. “That doesn’t seem to make any sense at all.”

Unable to hold myself back any longer, I rise. For the next hour, I long to act like a soldier instead of a royal.

Ezra claps the chalk dust off his hands. “What kind of training would you like to do today?”

I pull my dagger from its sheath and flip it in the air, catching it by the hilt. “Target practice.”

A few minutes later, I stand in the courtyard, in the same spot I watched Torbin and Dante throwing their swords my first day here. Ezra has had someone fetch a target, which is set up a few feet away, the worn bullseye pinned to a dummy made of jute-wrapped hay. I grip the hilt of my dagger, feeling the familiar weight and balance. It’s a small comfort in the chaos of my thoughts.

Under the magnolia tree, Ezra and Nadya watch. I can hear their muffled voices as they converse. The magister’s eyes are on me, assessing every throw, every movement, surely searching for any sign of weakness. Nadya, on the other hand, seems more concerned. Her eyes flick between me and the magister, her expression a mixture of worry and curiosity. She has always been the one to watch over me, to support me. I know she senses something is off, and I make a mental note to talk to her in private soon.

Blocking out their murmurs, I focus on the one thing I can control: my aim.

Though I try to suppress them, Dante’s words echo in my mind, each one a barb digging deeper. “You don’t belong here.” I release the dagger, sending it spinning through the air. It thuds into the dummy’s shoulder. Not good enough. I stomp toward the dummy and retrieve my dagger from the target, flipping it once as I head back to stand in place.

“The princess, once again, gets what she wants.” I narrow my eyes, focusing on the center of the target. The dagger flies true this time, striking closer to the bullseye. The satisfaction is fleeting, drowned out by the memory of his sneer.

Emotion is throwing me off. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to concentrate.

“Monster. You can’t change who you are.” My chest tightens. I take a deep breath, channeling the anger and hurt into my grip. The next dagger finds its mark with a satisfying thunk , dead center. I fetch it and throw again, my arm moving with practiced precision, but my heart is anything but steady.

How can he hate me so much? The question nags at me, intertwining with my movements. I spin and release, the dagger embedding itself in the dummy’s side. I picture his face, his cold, disdainful eyes, and it fuels my determination.

I’m not a monster. I didn’t have anything to do with his mother’s death. Though I don’t agree with my father’s prejudices, I still feel the guilt of his actions. But does that mean I have to continue to pay for them? The dagger once again flies from my hand, hitting the target with a force that sends it rocking back on its stand. My breaths come faster now, each one stoking the fire of my resolve. I will not let his words define me.

For a moment, I close my eyes and breathe. The courtyard grows quiet as I stand there, my grip firm on my dagger. I feel the weight of it, the way it connects me to the ground, the air, the target. I steady my breath, calm my racing heart, and with one fluid motion, I let it fly. It strikes true, splitting the painted bullseye.

I stare at the target, chest heaving, sweat trickling down my brow. The silence that follows is heavy, but it’s a silence filled with my resolve, not Dante’s venomous words. I won’t let him belittle me. I will not be broken by his hatred. I will forge my own path, no matter what it takes.

“Quite extraordinary.” Ezra applauds, coming closer to me.

Nadya follows, her smile warm.

“You’re very skilled, Celeste,” Ezra continues. “I can see why you’ve climbed the ranks in the regiment.” His head bobbles in nods as he speaks.

“Thank you. I was taught that my weapon is an extension of myself and that I should wield it like it’s a part of my body.”

“Yes. It seems the lesson has stuck with you.” Ezra walks toward the target dummy. “May I?”

I incline my head. “Be my guest.”

Ezra yanks it from the target and holds the flat part of the blade upon his palm. He turns it over a couple times, inspecting it thoroughly. “This was forged in Alphemra.”

“Yes. My mother’s land. She gifted it to me.” I’m torn between the memory of my loving mother and the nightmare version of her who stabs me in the dead of night.

“It feels powerful.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “And I mean that in more ways than one. I feel something within it. Perhaps because it carries sentimental power.”

“Yes.” I swallow back my emotions, my eyes drifting momentarily to Nadya, whose lips are almost in a pout. “You can feel that?”

“I’d like to know more about its origins.” Ezra hands back the dagger to me. “Do you know anything more about it?”

“I never learned the history of it, but I can ask my uncle when I speak to him next.”

As if knowing I mentioned him, my uncle’s voice enters my mind. But this time, it’s not a memory.

“Celeste, I’ve arrived safely back at the Garrison. Please send me a message to update me. I hope you’re maintaining your side of the bargain.”

“Is everything all right, Celeste?” Ezra must have noticed me being distracted.

“Yes.” I sheathe the dagger. “I think I’ve had my fill of lessons for today, if that’s all right with you.”

“Yes, of course. We can meet again tomorrow.” Ezra gives me a curt nod. “I hope you’re able to catch up with your rest.”

“Thank you, Ezra.” I gesture for Nadya to accompany me as we leave the courtyard.

Once we’re out of earshot, Nadya takes my arm. “Word from your uncle?”

“He’s fine. But he wants an update.” I push the hair back from my face. I’ve been doing what I can to keep my side of the deal, but I’m not entirely sure the king is upholding his side. “I may need your help getting a message up to the nightfeather tower.”

It will be tricky, though. According to protocol, the tower maester must keep the king informed of every message that comes and goes. I have to choose my words carefully.