Page 20 of A Dagger in the Ivy (Blade Bound #1)

C Hapter

I pace my room, my stomach still queasy from the sight of the lord’s bloody pulp of a face. My nerves are on high alert, my mind struggling to accept the fact that Torbin had so much violence within him. I understand that he is passionate about defending his family, but he went extremely too far.

And of course, no one would question his actions, since he is the prince. Even the king seemed to approve of Torbin’s extreme means of dealing with, as he put it, a traitor.

I suspect the king would have resorted to the same measures if given the chance.

I shudder at the thought.

But there is a sliver of uncertainty worming though my thoughts. Torbin genuinely looked shocked at what he had done, as if he hadn’t known his own strength. He did attack the man, but I can’t be completely certain that he meant to kill him.

From the adjoining door, Nadya emerges. I jump up, my heart caught in my throat.

“Nadya, where have you been?” I rush to her, and my anxiety pushes me to wrap her in my arms. “I thought something might have happened to you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you distress.” She steps back, her hands cupping my elbows as she studies my face. “You never used to worry if I spent the evening with someone.”

“That was back at the Garrison, where you and I knew everyone. I knew you would turn up eventually.” I push my hair back from my face. “It’s different here. I don’t know whom to trust, if anyone. And from what I’ve seen, I wouldn’t put it past anyone to do something irrational that might endanger you.”

“‘From what you’ve seen’?” Her brow scrunches up. “What did I miss?”

I huff a breath and return to my pacing. “Something horrible happened at the queen’s birthday. One of the lords said something disrespectful about the king, and Torbin…” I shake my head, the words getting stuck in my throat.

“What? What did Torbin do?”

My voice is a whisper. “He beat the man to death. In front of the entire court.”

Nadya’s jaw drops open, her eyes so wide, I fear they might fall out of her head. “No.”

I press my lips together and nod solemnly. “It was horrible.”

“What did the man say?”

“The man, Lord Alistair, he said that the queen deserved a better man than King Silas. Torbin called him a traitor, claimed he was no true supporter to the crown.”

Nadya watches me pace, wringing her hands together. “Okay, well, um, you know… Kings do horrible things, violent things, all the time. Especially to ones they consider to be enemies. I mean, even your father—”

“Not helping, Nadya.”

“Sorry.” She is quiet for a while, most certainly trying to come up with the right thing to say to me.

But even I know there’s nothing she can say. “He was defending his father. And I’m sure if it hadn’t been Torbin, the king would have ordered one of his guards to deal with the man.”

“Celeste, are you okay?” Nadya approaches me and takes my trembling hands.

“I don’t know.” I try to calm myself, allowing Nadya’s presence to comfort me. “Torbin has been nothing but sweet to me, and I’ve never even seen him lash out before. Verbally or otherwise.”

“Are you afraid of him?”

Am I? I’m more than capable of protecting myself, but then I remember the queen. Her bruised arms and cut palms. Would I be able to defend myself if Torbin ends up like his father?

When I don’t answer, Nadya squeezes my hands. “It’s not too late to back out. Whatever you decide, I am on your side. I can be ready to leave with you in minutes. I will grab Thora and another horse, set the castle on fire, and we can be gone before anybody notices.”

I have to laugh at her fervor. “I promise you, if it comes to that, I’ll let you know.

Four days pass before I see Torbin again. He doesn’t come to any meals, and I don’t see him anywhere in or around the castle. The more time that passes, the more I become willing to believe that Torbin regrets what he did, that he hadn’t meant to kill Lord Alistair. He was defending his father’s honor, and it went too far. I wouldn’t react the same way, but Torbin obviously puts his family first and would do anything to protect them. I would assume he would jump to my defense as well. And as far as being his future wife, I have to believe he would not treat me the way I suspect King Silas treats the queen.

Or am I being foolish?

In any case, I’m a skilled soldier, and there’s no way I’ll let any man push me down and treat me with hostility. This marriage is necessary for Delasurvia, but that doesn’t mean I will let anyone mistreat me. Torbin will become very familiar with the sharp end of my dagger before that happens.

I plan to ask him about it before I jump to any conclusions. Give him the benefit of the doubt. If he gets upset or reacts with any aggression, and I get the sense that the situation is out of control, I will take Nadya up on her offer.

Indira finishes changing my bedsheets and opens the door to leave my room. “Oh, Your Highness.”

I turn, thinking she’s speaking to me, but stop short of replying when Torbin enters the room. He moves with a confident stride, his presence filling the space with an undeniable energy. He is clad in hunting attire befitting his status as a prince, each garment meticulously chosen to convey both style and practicality. A tailored riding coat in a rich shade of forest green drapes over his broad shoulders, its supple fabric catching the morning light with a subtle sheen. The coat is adorned with intricate embroidery along the lapels, adding a touch of elegance to the rugged ensemble.

Beneath the coat, he wears a white shirt, its fabric crisp and clean against his skin. The shirt is cinched at the waist with a leather belt, its buckle gleaming in the sunlight as he moves. His trousers are of a darker hue, a sturdy material designed to withstand the rigors of the hunt while still maintaining a sense of refinement. Riding boots of polished leather encase his feet, their familiar scent mingling with the earthy aroma of the courtyard.

As he draws near, the heady scent of leather and earth envelops me, mingling with the subtle hint of cologne that lingers in his wake.

My muscles tense for a moment, the images of the lord’s bloody face intruding on my thoughts. But Torbin smiles charmingly at me, seemingly at ease. I return his smile, but my muscles remain tense.

“Torbin.” I stand from my settee and adjust my blouse. “I haven’t seen you lately. I thought maybe you’d left the castle.”

“I apologize, Celeste. I hope I didn’t worry you.” He closes the distance between us.

I force myself to stay steady, resisting the urge to reach for my dagger, as he takes my hand and places a gentle kiss upon it. My mind is spinning, trying to come up with a discreet way to bring up Lord Alistair.

“I hope I am not disturbing you.” He places his hands behind his back. “I wanted to explain my actions from the other night.”

A weight falls from my shoulders, relief settling in by the fact that he is willing to talk about it. “Yes, of course. I’m all ears.”

“Lord Alistair and my father have never seen eye-to-eye, and the way that man spoke that night was not the first instance of his disrespect to the king.”

“I see.”

“I’ve suspected him for a while now, having heard rumors that Lord Alistair has been seen with known assassins. He was so driven by his infatuation with my mother that I have no doubt he would have gone to great lengths just to have a chance at her.” Torbin rubs his fingers along his forehead. “That said, I never meant for things to escalate like that. I didn’t mean to kill him.”

My shoulders relax slightly. The soldier in me knows not to trust anyone completely, but he could be telling the truth.

“Perhaps I should have called for the guards instead of handling his attempt at treason myself,” he continues. “I realized, right afterward, how much it must have upset you. It was shocking for me, so I can just imagine how it affected you. I hope you can understand that it was an accident and forgive me for being so irrational.”

“I… um…”

He must sense my apprehension, because he takes my hands in his. The look in his eyes is soft, a plea for understanding. “I throw myself at your mercy, Celeste.”

When I gaze at him in this moment, I see the little boy I used to play with. Kind, caring, stealing pastries so we could sneak away for a snack… and the occasional prodding of a frog. I guess not much has changed. He hasn’t won me over entirely, but I will take his explanation with a grain of salt, keeping my guard from now on. “I understand,” I tell him, returning his smile. “Thank you for coming to me and explaining.”

“Oh, Celeste,” he says, bringing my hands to his lips. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that.” When he releases me, he reaches into his coat pocket to retrieve a small, velvet box. “And I wanted to give you something before I depart.”

“Depart?”

“For the hunt. My men are waiting for me downstairs. We leave immediately. But first, this.” He extends the box to me.

Curiosity piqued, I accept the box, my fingers trembling slightly as I open it to reveal a delicate necklace nestled within. “Oh, Torbin. It’s beautiful.” The gold necklace has an intricate, gold, ivy-leaf pendant. The leaf is surrounded by a circle of small, pink gems, which is further encircled by shiny pearls.

He beams at my reaction, his gaze lingering on my face as he gently lifts the necklace from its confines. “It pales in comparison to you, Celeste.”

A blush creeps into my cheeks at his words, and I quickly avert my gaze, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. I don’t entirely trust this man, but there is something about the way he looks at me that disarms me. With practiced ease, he steps behind me, securing the necklace around my neck with deft fingers. I shiver at his touch, a rush of warmth flooding through me as the cool metal settles against my skin. After he secures the clasp, he steps around to face me, his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he takes my hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles. “I must depart shortly, but know that you will be in my thoughts.”

I return his gaze, a flutter of uncertainty stirring within me as I watch him go. Despite his assurances, a nagging doubt lingers in the back of my mind, a whisper of unease that refuses to be ignored. But for now, I push it aside, choosing instead to bask in the warmth of his thoughtfulness and hope I don’t come to regret my decision to trust him.

It isn’t until after my daily lesson with Ezra that I realize I should return the gesture and get Torbin a gift. The gesture, if genuine, was sweet, but there is the possibility that it was a test. Beyond that, if any of the courtiers know that Torbin had presented me with a token of affection, there could very well be the expectation that I reciprocate. I know how rumors can snake their way through castle walls, and I need to make sure I play my part as the caring future bride.

I haven’t even stepped foot outside the castle walls—except for the night I wandered in my sleep—so it would be a good opportunity to travel downhill to see what the town has to offer. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find a worthy gift in town, but I might as well start my search. Even if I do find something, I won’t be able to gift it to Torbin for a while. By the time he returns from his hunting trip, I will have left for my regiment duties. The thought of returning to my usual routine fills me with a thrill.

I long to have Nadya come with me, but she’s wandered off again. Indira fetches a cape for me, and my Royal Ward, Sir Holden, escorts me to find Master Zimmerman, who orders the carriage driver to bring me to the town center. I’m actually surprised how easy it is to make the arrangements without anyone questioning my requests. When I get to the carriage, I notice that Sir Holden is prepared to come with me.

“Is this really necessary?” I gather the material of the cape as Master Zimmerman opens the carriage door for me. “No offense to Sir Holden, but I’m merely shopping. I highly doubt it to be a dangerous mission.”

“I’m afraid the king insists, Your Highness.”

I don’t feel like arguing, so I give the chamberlain a nod and climb into the carriage.

The route downhill is bumpy, and I say a silent thanks to the gods that I didn’t eat a big lunch that would have been jostled out of me by the time I reached my destination. The closer we get to the town center, the more passersby begin to pay attention to the carriage. The crowd becomes denser, and I begin to worry that I will have to push my way through a swarm.

Maybe it is a good idea that Sir Holden is with me.

Once I disembark from the carriage, I navigate the bustling streets of downtown Ivystone, finding myself immersed in a whirlwind of activity. The street market is alive with vibrant colors and enticing aromas, drawing me in with its lively energy. Vendors call out to passersby, their voices blending into a symphony of sound that fills the air. There are a few citizens following me, no doubt curious as to what I’m doing in town, but Sir Holden walks a step behind me, watching me and everyone near me.

The scent of spices and freshly baked bread wafts through the air, mingling with the fragrance of flowers and the tang of metal from nearby blacksmiths. It’s a heady mix that tickles my senses and stirs something within me. A familiarity of being around the people. An escape from being a watched princess trapped in a castle with no sense of freedom.

I weave my way through the crowds, taking in the colorful banners fluttering in the breeze. Some of the people mill about, not paying me any mind, their voices rising and falling in a melodic cadence that fills the air with a sense of vitality. Stalls line the streets, their displays overflowing with a dizzying array of goods. From handcrafted trinkets to exotic spices, there’s something here for everyone. I’m like a child in a sweets shop, my gaze darting from one stall to the next as I search for the perfect gift for Torbin.

Amidst the chaos, I spot a stall adorned with leather goods, and I get an idea. A vendor stands behind the counter, his weathered hands rubbing oil on a pair of gloves. I approach the stall, my eyes drawn to a pair of hunting gloves crafted from the finest supple, dark-brown leather, with reinforced stitching along the seams, ensuring durability for rigorous use. Each glove features an adjustable strap at the wrist, secured with a polished brass buckle, allowing a customized fit.

At the sight of me, the vendor’s eyes widen. He bows and then straightens his clothes. “What can I get you, Your Highness?”

“May I see those?” I point to the gloves, giving him a friendly smile.

He hands them to me, inclining his head. “A wise choice.”

I turn the gloves over in my hands. The palms are lightly padded for added protection and grip, while the fingers remain flexible, enabling dexterous movements. Intricate embossing along the cuffs adds a touch of sophistication, with a subtle pattern of intertwined ivy leaves, symbolizing strength and resilience.

“They’re perfect,” I tell him. “How much?”

I give him more than he asks, to which he bows in gratitude, and I make my way back through the bustling streets with the gloves wrapped in paper. Around me, the crowd has grown, the noise and chatter becoming louder. It seems I’ve drawn a lot of attention to myself, and the worry begins to gnaw on my nerves.

“Stand back,” Sir Holden calls out, stretching his long, muscular arms to the side, trying to create a barrier between me and the surging crowd.

The press of bodies becomes overwhelming. I feel myself being pushed and jostled. Sir Holden pushes back on the crowd, trying to maintain some order, but it’s no use. The sea of people surges between us, and before I know it, we are separated.

“Sir Holden!” I call out, but my voice is lost in the cacophony. I try to rise on the toes of my shoes for a better view, but I can’t see him anymore. “Sir Holden!”

Panic begins to set in as more people come at me from all sides, their faces a blur of confusion and fear. Shouts and the sound of shuffling feet fill the air.

I try to move my way out of the crowd, but just when I think I’ve broken free from the throng, I spot a group of people coming my way, their faces contorted into sneers. As desperation fills my lungs, I spot an alleyway to my right. I don’t know where it goes, but I decide to slip through it, hoping it will provide a moment’s respite. Or maybe I can round the corner and make my way back to the carriage. I push my way into the narrow passage, my heart pounding in my chest.

But as I travel the length of it, I realize it’s a dead end. The walls loom high above me, offering no escape. I turn around, only to find two sneering men blocking my path. One has his lip curled upward in a smirk, his eyes narrowed and gleaming as if he’s dissecting me with his gaze. The other tilts his head slightly, brows raised, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, a glint of something unsettling flickering in his eyes.

“What’s the rush, little lady?” The long-faced man looks me up and down. “Fancy clothes, pretty cape. It’d be a shame to stain it with blood.”

“Stay back,” I warn. “Or you’ll have to answer to the prince.”

Recognition alights in his eyes. “Well, look what we’ve got here, Giles. The fucking Princess of Delasurvia.” He stretches out his shoulders, one at a time, as he takes two slow steps toward me.

“I hear she’s got a thing for the criminals fleeing Dulcamar. Wants to let them into our lands so they can steal our houses and fuck our wives.” Giles clutches the handle of a piker knife, advancing beside his friend. “We can’t have that, can we, Peter?”

“No, Giles. We certainly cannot.”

My dagger is in my hand before they can take another step.

At first, the two men stop short, their mouths pulling down into frowns. But then, they regard each other and burst into foul laughter.

“Who let the princess play with blades?” Peter snarls, his greying teeth showing between his curled lips.

I hold my chin up. “I’ve been playing with blades since before you learned to hold one properly.”

“Well, ain’t that cute, Peter? She thinks she can fight us off. In a dress, no less.”

“You can back away now, before this goes too far.” I release the clasp of my cape and let it fall on the ground behind me. “Or you can crawl away with whatever body parts I decide to spare you.”

“Who does this cunt think she is? Threatening us? You come here, bringing your problems, your wars, your fucking chaos! You think we have to accept you because you’re to marry the prince, but nobody wants you here, Princess.” Peter sets his jaw. “You’re a curse upon this land, and we don’t take kindly to fucking curses.”

I catch his movement and throw Torbin’s present onto my cape, simultaneously shifting my stance to defend myself against Peter’s attack.

I block his strike with a swift and practiced motion, but his hold on his weapon is fast. The skirt of my dress slows me down a little, but not enough to put me at a disadvantage against Peter’s lack of skills. The clash of metal fills the air as we exchange blows. Giles stands in a crouch, his arms out, most certainly waiting for the best opportunity to stab me without injuring his friend. I let out a grunt with each strike, fueled by desperation and determination. With a surge of strength, I manage to slice Peter’s hand, a fleeting victory amidst the chaos .

But before I can fully comprehend the situation, Giles thrusts forward, catching me by surprise. Peter regains his footing and launches at the same time. As I deflect Giles, I brace myself for the impact of Peter’s blade, but before he can make contact, a figure from my side wrestles the assailant to the ground.

For a moment, I think it’s Sir Holden who’s come to assist, but when I’m able to turn my head, my eyes widen.

Dante.

His falchion is poised threateningly at Peter’s throat as he holds him down with his foot on his chest. Giles starts toward Dante, but Dante barely glances at him. “Easy now. Let’s not do anything you might regret.”

Giles’s wide eyes dart between Dante and me. He swallows hard before turning swiftly and rushing out of the passage.

“You know that an attack on the princess is a threat against the crown.” Dante’s blade presses against the skin of Peter’s neck. “Do you know what happens to fools who fuck with the crown?”

Peter’s face reddens by the second. He’s too flustered to move, let alone answer Dante.

All I can think of is Torbin smashing Lord Alistair’s head into the ground. My throat is closing up, and I can barely breathe waiting for what atrocity will happen next.

“That’s the problem with you townspeople,” Dante continues. “You become careless. You always forget where the power lies. Well, maybe this will serve as a reminder.” With a swift flick of his wrist, Dante swipes the edge of his sword across Peter’s cheek, leaving a cut that swells with blood.

Peter lets out a yelp. As soon as Dante pulls his falchion back, Peter scrambles away from him and squirms to his feet. His hand covers his face as he runs from the alleyway.

Dante sheathes his sword, sighing as if he’d simply been finishing a pint instead of taking hostile action against a would-be killer. He turns to face me, his dark eyes piercing. “You really should watch your back, Highness. You may have more enemies than you think. ”

Though I’m thankful for his intervention, I’m appalled at his bitter tone. “Why did you help me if you hate me so much?”

“A question I’m asking myself, if I’m honest.” He strolls toward the exit of the passageway so casually, I wonder if encounters like this is commonplace for him.

I grab my cape and Torbin’s gloves before I follow him. “Then why bother?”

“I promised my brother no harm would come to you.”

“This could have been your out. You could have let those men have their way with me, torture me, kill me. I’m sure Torbin wouldn’t blame you. Or if he did, I’m sure he would eventually forgive you.”

“Sounds promising. You probably shouldn’t tempt me.” He worries the inside of his cheek for a second. “That said, I have no tolerance for the senseless killing of foreigners. No one should be persecuted for simply stepping foot into another land.”

I scoff. “I thought you said I don’t belong here.”

His look makes me abandon my argument.

He’s not talking about me. He’s talking about his mother. “Oh. Yes, I agree. Of course.”

I’m about to swallow my pride and thank him for helping me, but his glare stops me. He turns, looking in all directions before we emerge from the passageway. I move forward when he gestures to me that it’s clear. “Try not to fall behind, Highness. I’d hate to have to draw my sword again before we get you back to the carriage.”

Sir Holden hurriedly approaches us, his brows drawn down. “Lord Stregasi. Thank the gods you found her.” He inclines his head to me. “Your Highness, I apologize for the inconvenience. I held back as many as I could.”

“I thank you for your help, Sir Holden.” I hold the gloves to my chest. “I got what I came for, and I’m ready to return to the castle.”

We weave through the streets with both Dante and Sir Holden keeping the crowd at bay. Our pace is swift, and in a matter of minutes, we arrive safely at the carriage.

Sir Holden offers a hand so that I can climb in, and when I turn I look at Dante.

“Are you coming to the castle?”

Dante studies my face a moment before he shakes his head. “I have some things to take care of first. You go on ahead.”

“All right.” I open my mouth to tell him to be careful, but then I stop myself. I know he’ll sneer at anything I have to say.

His eyes narrow. “What is that?”

It takes me a moment to register what he’s speaking about. I look down at the leather hunting gloves clenched in my hand. “A gift. For Torbin. I wanted to return the favor. He gave me this lovely necklace.”

Dante’s tone remains guarded as he steps closer to inspect the necklace. He reaches for it, and I almost flinch. His fingertips brush against my skin, and heat flashes through me. Feeling the pendant between his fingers, he shifts his gaze from the necklace to my face. With our gazes locked, I find it hard to breathe.

“Compared to its wearer, it’s hardly worth a glance.” He drops the necklace and turns away from me.

Wait.

What?

But I can’t ask him what he means because he’s already disappearing into the crowd.