Page 30 of A Dagger in the Ivy (Blade Bound #1)

C Hapter

The night is short. We manage to get a few hours of sleep, camping out under the stars about a hundred miles north of Kermish. Exhaustion from the battle helps us to drift off, but the guilt of not being able to save everyone makes our sleep restless.

Though we eventually slaughtered the carnoraxis, I would not call last night a victory. The town leaders reported that a couple of their riders went missing, never reaching the beacon masters. And more than a handful of citizens perished at the hands of the beasts.

At least I saved that little girl. Her survival is a small beam of light in the darkness of the onslaught. And I respect the people of Kermish for standing together and not stringing up their third-born fae as a sacrifice to the creatures of the Shadow Tsar.

When we gather for a small meal before heading farther north, I’m pleasantly surprised to see Dante join us. Even though we fought off the enemy together, he’d made it clear that we shouldn’t presume to know where his loyalties lie. Maybe we’ve chipped away at his wall of stubbornness a bit.

Though most of the meal is spent in reflective silence, we manage to finalize our plans to head to the border between Delasurvia and Dulcamar. I’m curious to see if the Hederan kingsguard are patrolling the border or if the Copperhammers were full of shit.

Our journey north brings biting winds and frost-covered foliage. The crisp air helps to keep me alert on such little sleep. I make sure to pay attention to Mylo, who kept watch all night and is surely running low on energy.

After a few hours, Giorgi, who rides ahead of us, leads us to a lake to rest.

“We’re near the border,” they say. “But we should water the horses here. The sources more north may be nothing but ice.”

As we pause near the tranquil lake, its pristine waters reflect the azure sky above like a mirror, capturing the serene beauty of the surrounding landscape. Tall, elegant trees line the banks, their spindly branches gently swaying in the breeze, casting lines of shadows across the snow.

The cool air is filled with the melodious symphony of nature: the soft rustle of leaves, the gentle lapping of the water against the shore, and the distant chirping of birds perched among the branches. The sun hangs high in the sky, casting its warm rays down upon the freezing earth, infusing the air with a pleasant, golden glow.

In the distance, majestic mountains rise up, their snow-capped peaks spearing the heavens. The serene beauty of the landscape instills a sense of peace and tranquility, a welcome respite from the rigors of our journey.

My gaze lands on Dante, who’s tending to his horse with practiced ease. His movements are fluid and graceful, a testament to his skill as a rider. He removes his jacket, and I can’t help but admire the way his muscles ripple beneath the fabric of his shirt, sculpted and defined from years of training and discipline. The sun catches the angles of his face, highlighting the rugged contours of his jawline. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes as he concentrates on the task at hand, a sense of purpose that resonates with the strength of his character.

I find myself captivated by the sight of him, drawn in by the effortless confidence that seems to radiate from every pore. Despite the gravity of our situation, there’s a fleeting moment of respite in his presence.

But as our eyes meet, I feel a flutter of unease stir in the pit of my stomach. It’s a strange sensation, one that I can’t quite explain, as if the very air around us has shifted, charged with an energy that crackles and sparks with the intensity of our shared gaze.

I quickly avert my eyes, chiding myself for such foolish thoughts. There’s no room for distractions in our mission. Besides, I’m engaged to his brother. Arranged marriage or not, I should honor my promise. If not for the union itself, then for what it means for Delasurvia.

I turn fully away from him and approach Aila, who’s scraping hardened mud off her boot soles.

“Where’s Mylo?” I ask when I don’t spot him.

“He’s scouting with Giorgi.” She looks over her shoulder. “And I think Isaac is looking for a place to empty his bladder.”

“Did you get any rest?”

“Enough, I guess.” She hits her boot against a large rock to knock the excess mud loose. “What about you?”

“A few hours, I think.”

“Hard to sleep with someone staring at you all night, huh?”

“What?”

She stands, biting back a smile. “What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing.” I let out a humorless laugh. “What makes you ask that? I’m… I’m engaged to his brother, and his brother asked him to look out for me.”

“I’m not sure the prince thought that request through thoroughly. It’s like asking someone to watch their puppy and expecting them not to fall in love.”

A blush hits my cheeks like a slap. “Aila!” I check over my shoulder to make sure Dante’s not within hearing distance. “He’s not… No one is falling… I’m not a puppy!”

Aila bursts out laughing, which makes me even more embarrassed .

“Uh-oh.” She tries to stop laughing by clearing her throat. “Looks like we got his attention.”

I try to compose myself as Dante heads our way. “Don’t say anything,” I tell Aila. “That’s an order.”

I can tell she’s suppressing a smile as she picks up her weapon belt and refastens it.

“Everything all right?” Dante asks when he reaches us.

“I’m, uh, going to fill my canteen.” Aila holds up her water flask as she trots away.

I almost follow her to avoid looking at Dante but think better of it. Releasing a deep breath, I force myself to stand in place and show some semblance of a soldier on a mission.

“I should give you more credit.”

I’m so taken off guard by his words that I have to blink. “Sorry, what?”

“I knew you were skilled with a blade, but I suppose I wasn’t totally convinced you knew what you were doing until I saw you in action.” He rests a hand on the hilt of his falchion.

“Hmm. I’m not sure whether to thank you for the backhanded compliment or slap you across the face for the insult.”

“Don’t pretend like the compliment—backhanded or otherwise—didn’t make your stomach flutter with delight.”

My eyes flash with surprise. “As if your compliments mean anything to me.”

He raises a brow. “I see the way your eyes find me. It’s almost as if it’s me you want.”

“You are so arrogant.”

He smirks. “That’s not a denial.”

I grind my teeth. “My eyes are only drawn to you because I want to make sure you’re not fucking around during a military maneuver.”

“You’re rather cute when you lie.”

I scoff, ignoring the burn in my cheeks. “Why would I want you?”

“Maybe the pirate in you knows you’ll quickly grow bored with a marriage that’s safe. Tame. Perhaps even void of passion. ”

I flinch. But I don’t want to address my engagement to Torbin with him, especially since the last exchange with my betrothed left me with a sour taste in my mouth, so I argue another point instead. “Stop calling me a ‘pirate.’”

“It was meant as another compliment.”

“You know, you may think of me as na?ve, but I’m wise enough to know when a man is toying with me.” I stiffen my chin. “Besides, I’m sure you have a woman worth toying with in every village from here to Podrosa.”

“My reputation precedes me, I see.” He crosses his arms. “But honestly, my real mistress is freedom.”

“Hard to call it ‘freedom’ when you most likely have a bastard of your own here and there throughout the realm, ready to stake their claim on everything you own.”

“I have no such bastards, rest assured.”

“How can you be certain?”

He looks amused. “You don’t know about sirens’ ability to control whether or not they reproduce?”

My jaw hangs open for a second before I regain the sense to close my mouth. “‘Control’?”

He rubs the space between his bottom lip and his chin. I find myself watching the movement intently.

“I will only produce an heir when I decide to.” He watches my face, waiting for me to understand.

When I finally do, I try to contain my astonishment. “All sirens can do this?”

His chuckle is low. “Yes.”

I’m silent for a moment, considering the implications of this fact. It not only means that Dante can sleep with whomever he wishes and not have to suffer any consequences of an accidental pregnancy, but it also means that his mother meant to become with child when she slept with King Silas. It makes me wonder about her motivation. Was she in love with him? Did she want to produce a possible heir to the throne? There are so many questions circling my mind, but I won’t dare to voice them to Dante.

“Commander!”

I turn at the sound of Giorgi’s voice. Their horse kicks up snow as they race toward us. My senses perk up. The pounding of the horse’s hooves matches the beating of my heart.

I run toward them to shorten the distance between us. “What is it?”

“A boat!” Giorgi pants between words. “Flipped over at sea. The people were thrown into the raging water. Mylo’s gone in after them.”

“Okay, let’s go.” I call out toward the lake, “Aila, find Isaac! We’ve got a rescue.”

Dante places a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll get the horses.”

We move quickly, but every minute feels too long. Giorgi leads us toward the shore of the Batu Basah Ocean, which lies between Delasurvia and Dulcamar.

I push Thora harder, her hooves pounding against the rocky path as we race toward the shoreline. The distant cries of the stranded refugees reach my ears, spurring me forward. When I crest the hill overlooking the beach, my breath catches in my throat at the sight below.

The capsized boat bobs helplessly in the turbulent waves, its hull jutting out of the water like a dark, ominous beast. Figures cling desperately to the overturned vessel, their faces twisted with fear and exhaustion. The sea is unforgiving, each wave threatening to rip them away from their tenuous hold.

Two forms lie on the sand, their bodies contorted as they cough seawater from their lungs. Giorgi practically jumps through the air from their horse to tend to them.

Mylo must have dragged them to the shore and is already back in the water, his powerful strokes cutting through the waves as he swims toward a terrified mother clutching her child. His movements are swift and sure, as though he’s done this a thousand times before. I watch as he reaches them, his strong arms wrapping around both the woman and the child, pulling them close. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t falter—only the raw determination on his face betrays the severity of the situation.

I dismount in a hurry, my heart racing, and sprint down to the beach. Mylo carries the pair through the churning water, battling against the current that seeks to snatch them back out to sea. He’s already soaked through, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, but he doesn’t stop. With a final surge of strength, he pushes the woman and child toward the shore, where Giorgi and Aila are waiting to pull them to safety.

As Mylo turns back for more, I quickly shed any excess weight, stripping myself of my gear. The cries of distress from the refugees spur me into action, driving me forward with determination as I plunge into the cool waters of the sea.

The icy embrace of the water shocks my senses, but I push through, propelled by the urgency of the situation. The sheer power of the waves threatens to overwhelm me, but I refuse to let fear take hold. These people need us. And I won’t let them down.

With powerful strokes, I navigate through the waves, my muscles straining against the resistance of the water as I make my way toward the struggling figures.

A dark form just under the surface of the water rushes past me. At first, I think it’s a shark or a dolphin, but when a head comes up for a quick breath of air, I see that it’s Dante. I’ve heard sirens are fast swimmers, but I had no idea they could be that fast.

The refugees flail in the water, their panicked cries ringing out over the lake. Dante reaches an elderly man and takes hold of him. He’s practically back at the shore before I even reach the boat. With each stroke, I draw closer, my heart pounding in my chest as I reach out to grasp one of them, pulling them toward safety with all the strength I possess.

With each passing moment, the tension mounts, the urgency of the situation driving us forward as we battle against the currents to reach those in need.

Once we’ve gotten everyone on shore, I scan the area to assess my team. Our breaths come in ragged gasps as we collapse on the sandy beach, the adrenaline of the rescue coursing through our veins. Isaac has already begun examining the people to make sure they are breathing properly and weren’t injured .

Breathless and drenched from head to toe, I turn to Dante with a grateful nod.

Dante’s gaze meets mine, his expression unreadable for a moment before he returns the nod, a hint of warmth in his eyes that makes my heart skip a beat.

We bring the refugees to the nearest camp, carrying most of them on horseback while we walk alongside them. Except for the elderly man, the men of the group walk. Aside from expressing their thanks, they do not speak at all. I can tell from their accents and the way they whisper to each other in Dulcamaran, they do not speak much of the common language.

It angers me that the people who long to escape the hold of the Shadow Tsar must make desperate, dangerous decisions, when I know we could help them find sanctuary. The riches from the Land of Ivy can’t stop the carnoraxis attacks from happening, but they could help with this. If the people in power in Mersos could see how frightened and desolate these refugees are, they would surely be compassionate enough to allow them to cross the border without cutting off supplies to Delasurvia.

By the time we reach the refugee camp, the ache in my legs is like spears in my calves. I can barely feel my feet, but I don’t complain. It’s nothing compared to what these people went through.

The camp sprawls across the landscape, a patchwork of makeshift tents and shelters nestled amidst the rugged terrain. Tattered canvas flaps in the cold wind, providing scant protection against the elements for those who call this place home, while the ground beneath their feet is worn and bare from the constant traffic of weary travelers.

There is a sense of resilience, with people bustling about, determined to make the best of their circumstances. Volunteers move among the tents, distributing meager rations of food and water to the hungry and thirsty refugees, their faces etched with compassion despite the scarcity of resources .

Despite the hardships, there is a sense of community among the inhabitants of the camp, with families huddled together for warmth and support, their bonds forged in the crucible of adversity. Children play together, their laughter a fleeting respite from the harsh realities of their surroundings.

The camp runners approach us, their faces drawn with exhaustion and concern. “Commander, welcome,” a sergeant named Rose says.

“Rose, we have two families here. Their boat capsized and they were thrown into the ocean.”

She nods. “All right, bring them this way. We’ve got plenty of blankets, and there’s a fire going.”

“On it,” Isaac says, leading the refugees to where Rose indicates.

Aila goes with them, carrying the young child, who is now clinging to her.

“We’ll check the perimeter,” Mylo tells me. He then signals to Giorgi to come along.

Dante stands beside me, his eyes scanning the camp. As he takes in the state of the refugees, there’s a softness in his expression, a flicker of something more human beneath his hardened exterior.

“How are things faring?” I ask Rose once the families are out of earshot.

“We’re running low on provisions.” Rose keeps her voice low, casting a worried glance around the bustling camp. “We’re doing what we can, but even the nearby villages are struggling to feed themselves.”

Guilt gnaws at my stomach. “I wish I could change that. I’m doing everything I can to get Mersos to agree on opening their trade routes to us.”

She inclines her head. “I know you are, Commander.”

I glance around at the people. Even in these conditions, they seem grateful. “Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”

“We could use some help distributing food to the refugees.”

Dante steps forward without hesitation. “I’ll lend a hand,” he offers, his voice firm with resolve.

I try to push down my shock, searching his face .

He turns to me with a reassuring smile. “We can’t let them go hungry.”

“No, we can’t.” I turn back to Rose. “We’ll both help.”

“Great,” Rose says. “Follow me.”

She leads us to a tent where steam rises from a pot big enough to be a cauldron. The smell of boiled root vegetables wafts through the air. Rose instructs us on how we can help and places a hand on my arm in thanks.

Grateful nods and murmurs of gratitude greet us as we set to work, handing out meager portions of food to the hungry refugees. Their faces light up with relief at the sight of sustenance, and I can’t help but feel a pang of empathy for their plight.

As we work side by side, I turn to find Dante’s gaze meeting mine, a silent understanding passing between us. There’s a warmth in his eyes that belies his stoic exterior, and for a moment, I’m grateful for his presence amidst the misery and misfortune.

Rose approaches us after a while and gives me a nod. “I just wanted to let you know how the refugees you brought in are doing.”

I pause my serving and turn to her. “Are they all right?”

“They’re scared shitless, but we’re trying to make them feel comfortable.” Rose shakes her head. “The Shadow Tsar is a fucking tyrant, treating his own people like scum.”

“That’s the thing,” I say. “They’re not really his people, are they? He usurped the former leader. Nobody knows where he’s from. He doesn’t care about the Dulcamaran people at all. He just wants their throne.”

“It’s not just that.” Rose lets out a sigh and checks over her shoulder. “The refugees have been pretty tight-lipped, but I’ve gained the trust of some of them. And they’ve told me what’s been happening to their people, why they’re fleeing and seeking refuge.”

I narrow my eyes. I always believed that he was starving them, not protecting them from the carnoraxis, abandoning them in a time of need. “What did they say?”

“He’s using them as food, Commander. He’s capturing them, families at a time, and feeding them to the carnoraxis. ”

I blanch. The horror of it roils my stomach. I can’t fathom the absolute terror these families have been dealing with. It’s difficult to wrap my head around the depth of such cruelty. My mind struggles to grasp the sheer inhumanity of it—using innocent people, children, as nothing more than fodder for those monsters. The thought twists my insides, and I feel bile rising in my throat.

Taking a breath to steady myself, I meet Rose’s eyes. “We won’t let it continue,” I say, my voice hardening with resolve. “We’ll find a way to stop him, and we’ll protect those who have made it here. The regiment is doing everything it can so that no one else will suffer that fate.”

Later, after everyone has been fed, Dante and I rejoin my squad, gathering near a small fire on the outskirts of camp as the refugees retire to their tents to sleep. The night sky is clear and full of stars, and the fire between us crackles. Rose gives us all a mug of cheap ale to warm ourselves as the temperature drops.

“You know,” Giorgi says, staring into the fire, “I can’t think of a single reason why I should be a soldier, except that I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“What are you talking about, Giorgi?” Mylo gives them a playful shove. “You’re the best ranger there ever was. No one can scout unknown territory—and memorize every inch of it—better than you.”

“That may be, but I’m not exactly comfortable with all the blood we have to deal with.” Giorgi grimaces.

“Nobody likes killing, Giorgi,” I say. “We only do it when necessary.”

“You might want to remind Aila of that rule.” Isaac smirks at her.

“Hey, if you don’t cross me, you have nothing to worry about.” Aila sips her ale. “And if I did have to kill someone, I wouldn’t tell you. I’d only tell Celeste because I know she’d help me bury the body, no questions asked.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “I’d ask how deep .”

Everyone in the group except Isaac laughs. Though it’s just a joke, the flash of memory from the night Torbin killed Lord Alistair dampens my mood a bit.

“Don’t pout, Isaac.” Giorgi pats Isaac on the back. “What you lack in people skills, you make up for in crossbow talent.”

Isaac scoffs. “Don’t bother trying to get on my good side. I already hate you. That’s not going to change.”

“Wait.” Mylo leans forward. “You have a good side?”

Another round of laughter erupts, and then Isaac takes a gulp of his ale, turning to me. “So, Commander, when’s the wedding?”

A thump sounds, but it’s hard to see where it came from because of the dark.

“Ow.” Isaac turns to Mylo. “Did you just kick me?”

“That was me,” Aila says before holding her mug up as if to propose a toast.

“Well, cut it out. It was a legitimate question.” Isaac tilts his head at me, waiting for an answer.

I squirm, uncomfortable with all the stares. “The queen is in charge of setting the date. I’m sure she’ll announce it soon.”

Dante stands. I force myself to keep my eyes trained on the ground, but in my peripheral vision, I’m watching him. He moves toward some trees near the outer perimeter, and when he digs into his jacket pocket, I glance at what he’s doing. He pulls a rolled cigarello out of a tin and shoves it in his mouth. In the darkness, his grey eyes find me. I press my lips together, shivering as a cool breeze runs through my hair. He lights a match and turns away, gazing out past the trees.

What am I doing?

My squad carries on with their banter, and small sounds from within the camp carry on the wind. A baby crying. A mother humming a lullaby. Two men sharing a laugh.

I glance around the camp, my heart heavy with the knowledge that the king opposes these makeshift settlements. He ordered them all shut down. For a second, my nerves seize with fear that Dante will report the camp’s existence to him. I stare at him, hesitant to bring it up, but the question nags me. I stand, wrapping my arms around myself, and stroll out toward Dante. My boots crunch in the snow, so I know he hears me approaching.

“Miss me already?” Dante says, not even turning around to check that it’s me.

“I, uh, need to ask you something.”

He swivels his head toward me, and the corner of his lips inch upward. “Oh?”

I take a deep breath and hope for the best. “Are you going to tell your father about this? The camp, I mean. I know it goes against his plan.”

Dante meets my gaze steadily, a flicker of determination in his eyes. “I know how to keep a secret, Highness.”

The storm grey of his eyes sends a shiver down my spine, but I can’t help but admire his unwavering resolve. “Thank you.”