Page 2 of A Dagger in the Ivy (Blade Bound #1)

C Hapte r

It’s clear that there’s more to the story than meets the eye, turmoil or other secrets that have yet to be unearthed. The shop woman said she did not agree with the men who strung up the third-born fae. Perhaps the townspeople voted on how to handle the situation. Or maybe it was a decision made with haste, a resolution formed by panic and desperation. Whatever the case, it’s taking every ounce of patience I can muster to not lash out at everyone with whom I come into contact.

With a sigh, I turn. The morning air is crisp as I navigate the bustling streets of Aragheni, following the shopkeeper’s directions to the butcher’s shop. People are already out and about, eager to start their day despite the recent carnoraxis attack. Their faces bear traces of fear and anxiety, yet there’s also a sense of relief and gratitude for being alive. I weave through the crowd, my steps purposeful as I make my way toward my destination.

The sun swallows shadows as it rises higher in the sky, illuminating the cobblestone streets and colorful buildings of the town. Shop signs sway gently in the breeze, their vibrant colors catching my eye as I pass. The smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, mingling with the earthy scent of morning dew .

As I approach the butcher’s shop, I encounter a small gathering of people outside, waiting for it to open. They exchange hurried greetings and lively chatter, their voices blending into a comforting hum. I steel myself, my hand brushing the handle of my dagger, but before I can march forward, fingers settle on my arm. My head swivels to find Aila Cheng at my side.

“You’re not going in there alone, are you?” Aila smirks, straightening the lapels of her uniform. Her silky, black hair, which is tied tightly into a bun, catches the sun.

“Your search led you here too, I gather.”

“Something tells me this group is not among the favorites in town.”

“I appreciate the support, but this might get messy.”

Aila scoffs. “Messy’s my middle name. My father suggested Laretta, but my mother overruled him.”

I can’t help but laugh at her joke. It’s a welcome respite from the torment running through my mind. Aila isn’t only a skilled soldier, she’s also one of my closest friends.

She elbows me. “Besides, someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

“Trouble seems to find me regardless. I just can’t fucking understand why anyone would sacrifice their own brother.”

She wraps her hand around the hilt of her sword. “Some people fear death enough to do anything to protect themselves, even if it means betraying their own flesh and blood.”

“It’s despicable. But we need answers, and I won’t rest until we get them.”

“Then let’s get those answers.” Aila begins to push through the crowd, not caring to bother with politeness. “Make way!”

I’m a step behind her, preparing myself for the confrontation ahead, my heart pounding in anticipation. I know that confronting the heartless men won’t be easy, but I owe it to the fallen fae to seek justice for their senseless sacrifice.

Aila and I stride into the butcher shop, and the bell above the door chimes, announcing our arrival. The shop is small and cramped, shelves lined with various cuts of meat, while hooks hang from the ceiling, displaying carcasses of animals. The air is laden with the metallic scent of blood and the sharp tang of freshly caught game.

One of the butchers stands behind the counter, his apron stained with blood, his expression wary as he eyes us. His colleague, a burly man with a scruffy beard, pauses in his work, casting a curious glance our way.

My presence fills the room with an air of authority, my posture straight and my gaze unwavering as I approach the counter. Aila steps to the side to allow me to push forward, her expression steely, ready for whatever confrontation may arise.

“Pardon the interruption.” I only raise my voice enough to be heard over the grumbling in the room. “We’re looking for those responsible for hanging up the fae last night.”

The workers’ eyes dart nervously between each other, a hint of apprehension flickering in their gazes. The scruffy-bearded one hesitates for a moment before nodding toward the back of the shop. “Roy’s in the back.”

I glance in the direction he indicates before I return my gaze to him. “Is he the only one who staked them?”

The one with the bloody apron plants his palms on the counter. “No, but he made the final call.” His voice is gruff, and his eyes are weighed down with dark bags.

“Take us to him, then.” I keep my chin high, my shoulders squared.

Their delay in cooperation causes Aila to reach for her sword, but the men react as soon as her fingers curl around the hilt.

The first one’s breath hitches. “Wait.”

The two workers regard each other before the bearded one gestures with his hand. “Follow me.”

With a nod, I gesture for Aila to tag along as we trail behind Beardy toward the rear of the shop, our footsteps clapping against the tiled floor.

“Roy,” Beardy calls out. “Royal Regiment is here to see you.”

Roy cuts a striking figure, his features weathered and worn from years of hard work. His greying hair clings to his scalp in unruly tufts. Guarded eyes hold a quiet intensity, betraying the weight of his responsibilities as the town’s butcher. His movements are slightly sluggish, as if burdened by his actions. Yet beneath the weariness, there lingers a sense of determination, an unwavering resolve to defend the choices he’s made.

“The regiment? I’ve committed no crime.” His shoulders are tense, drawn tight with the strain of his decision, and his jaw is set in a firm line, as if refusing to show any hint of vulnerability or regret.

“Are you a simple man, Roy?” I ask.

Wrinkles form between his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Only a simple man would not understand that murder is a crime.”

“Actually,” Aila puts in, “I’ve met many simple men, and even they acknowledge that murder is bad.”

His gaze meets ours with a mixture of defiance and resignation. There is a haunted look in his eyes, a shadow of doubt that flickers briefly before he squares his shoulders. “I murdered no one. Those three were still very much alive when I left them.”

Beardy interjects. “He did it for us. For the whole town.”

“Quiet, Finn!” Roy shoots him a warning look.

Finn ignores his glare. “Surrendering the lives of a mere three—including your own brother—to save the lives of many. That’s got to account for something.”

“Your brother , Roy.” I clench my fist, resisting the urge to whip out my dagger and make him know real fear. “Your flesh and blood.”

Roy speaks through clenched teeth. “I did what I had to do to protect this town. Those creatures were a threat. It would have been all of us fucking dead.”

“They were innocent people. No one deserves to die like that.”

“Innocent or not, they were what the Shadow Tsar was after. We’ve seen what the carnoraxis are capable of.”

“That doesn’t justify murder.”

When he glares at me, his eyes blacken. “Well, you were meant to protect us, Commander. So where were you?”

I flinch. It’s a mistake, and I know it right away. I’ve unwittingly given Roy and his men the sense that I’m vulnerable. And they don’t hesitate to act on it. Anyone who has no qualms against sacrificing his own brother will not hesitate to fight someone they barely know. Not to mention that he is also a fae. Though I don’t know which powers he has, mine have not fully manifested.

However, I am more than agile with a blade.

I palm my dagger when he takes a step toward me. Aila unsheathes her sword, eying the other men in the room.

Now it’s Roy’s turn to flinch.

I hold my weapon steady between us but do not advance. “You chose fear over compassion. You let panic dictate your actions, and innocent lives were lost because of it.”

Roy’s jaw stiffens. “Compassion won’t protect us from the fucking carnoraxis. We have to be willing to make tough decisions to survive.”

“There’s a difference between survival and sacrificing our humanity. Stringing up those fae was a cowardly act, and I won’t stand for it.”

Roy sneers and his gaze darts between us and his colleagues. “You may not have a choice. You have your weapons, but you might have failed to notice you’re basically trapped in a room full of sharp objects and men stronger than you.”

Roy takes a step, but then his eyes widen when a shadow darkens the room. The sound of bone hitting bone makes us turn just in time to see Mylo standing over the groaning men, who are flat on the floor cradling their skulls. Mylo is a tower compared to Roy, whose shoulders slump at the sight of him.

“I think you need to reassess your advantages.” Mylo, who hasn’t even drawn his weapon, smirks as he crosses his arms. His biceps stretch the sleeves of his uniform.

Roy raises his arms and takes three steps back.

“You might want to think twice before threatening the commanding officer of the Delasurvian Royal Regiment.” Aila sheathes her sword and hikes a thumb toward Mylo. “And I don’t mean because of this guy. Or have you not heard the famous tales of Celeste Westergaard and her lethal dagger?”

Roy releases a shuddering breath. “Listen, maybe I made a mistake. But it’s over. It is done. The town is safe now.” His eyes redden with tears. “ It wasn’t an easy decision, but I can’t fucking change anything now. For what it’s worth, I wasn’t the one who killed them. I drew no blood.”

Anger surges within me, a seething fire fueled by the helplessness I feel over our tardiness. I clench my jaw, suppressing the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

With one last scowl directed toward Roy, I sheathe my dagger and turn to leave. As my squadmates and I are about to reach the door, a scuffling behind me causes my senses to go into high alert.

I don’t think. I only act.

With a hard pivot, I whip out my dagger and fling it toward Roy, who’s advanced on me and about to strike. His cry of pain floods the room. His hand, which wields a cleaver, is pierced dead center by my dagger. The cleaver clatters to the floor. The metallic sound is followed by the ring of Aila’s and Mylo’s swords being drawn. As Roy’s blood spills upon the cleaver, his jaw hangs open, and his men back away.

“Like I said. A simple man.” I glare at him, daring him to make a move as I march toward him to retrieve my dagger. I’m not nice about it, either, tearing it from his flesh with the same disregard as I imagine the carnoraxis tore into his brother.

I can’t stand to look at his face any longer. Turning swiftly, I storm out of the butcher shop. But with every step, the weight of Roy’s callous words scrape at my heart.

Where were you?

The guilt of not being fast enough to save those fae claws at my gut. But I need to shake it off. The one thing Roy is right about is that we can’t change anything now.

Aila and Mylo follow close behind me, no doubt watching my back. Once we push past the prying crowd outside the shop, Aila’s steps are quick and purposeful, matching my pace, her eyes reflecting the same anger simmering within me.

Coming in our direction are Isaac and Giorgi, my soldiers, each scanning my face to assess what might have happened.

“Are there any other casualties?” I ask them as they approach.

“None in the village, though their riders haven’t returned yet.” Isaac’s gait is one of caution, his sandy hair dusting his squared shoulders as he moves. “We took the names of the dead for the scribe tomes.”

“It was only the three.” Giorgi glances over their shoulder, their fingers steady on the hilt of their sword. “But the citizens we questioned pointed us in this direction.”

“We found the men who tied them up.” I gesture for them to follow as I head to the place I left Thora. “But there’s nothing we can do. Their leader—the brother of one of the fallen—made it clear. They drew no blood.”

“But we did.” Mylo raises a brow. “Looks like Roy’s going to have to find a new career. One that doesn’t require him to use that hand.”

“No.” I shake my head. “He’s fae. He will heal.”

“Can’t we arrest him for being an asshole?” Aila asks.

“If being an asshole is a crime, you better lock up Isaac.” Mylo elbows Isaac playfully, but he’s so big and powerful, the impact causes Isaac to stumble.

“Cut it out, jerk,” Isaac grumbles.

“I don’t know how he can live with himself after sacrificing his own brother.” Aila’s voice is tinged with frustration as we stride through the bustling streets of the town.

My jaw clenches with indignation, my mind swirling with a torrent of emotions. “He will see the people of this town alive and well and consider it a necessary sacrifice.” I seethe, my voice tight with anger. “But I can’t say it won’t haunt him.”

Aila shoots me a glace that tells me she agrees with me.

We reach our horses and find a pair of young men who’ve been kind enough to water them. Giorgi tosses them each a coin and gives them a nod of gratitude.

At least there are some kind souls in Aragheni.

“ Celeste .”

The voice of my uncle, our army’s general, echoes in my head, stopping me in my tracks. His telepathy magic is one of the reasons he leads the most powerful defense force in all of Terre Ferique.

My soldiers stop along with me, knowing I must be receiving a message. If it were instructions for the squad, they’d all be able to hear. The fact that they don’t means it’s personal, and my squad knowingly allows me the silence I need to concentrate on his message.

“ Return to The Garrison. It’s urgent. ”

Shit. A pang strikes my heart. My first thought is of my ailing brother, who lies on his deathbed, barely hanging on. I clench my fists, not wanting to believe that the time has come. But unfortunately, I don’t share my uncle’s telepathy powers, so my questions will have to wait.