Page 49 of A Dagger in the Ivy (Blade Bound #1)

C Hapter

Dante spots me, our eyes locking for a moment. He must be thinking what I’m thinking. There’s an urgency in his pace as he follows suit, racing for the castle doors with me. We make haste, rushing up the stairs in the direction from where I saw the guard fall.

We burst into the king’s private lounge, the door slamming open so hard, it rattles on its hinges. My breath catches at the sight before me—Torbin, towering over his father, wearing a makeshift crown crafted from the antlers of the midnight buck he shot. It sits on his head like a grotesque mockery of royalty, its twisted points catching the light from the open balcony, where the chaos of the battle below drifts in with the night air.

Torbin stands tall, his sabre pointed directly at the king and his eyes wild with fury. “You’ve mistreated me and Mother for the last time, old man! You think you’re so untouchable—so righteous!” He’s snarling, spittle flying from his mouth, his voice vibrating with years of pent-up rage.

My dagger is palmed and ready, but before I can act, Torbin lunges. The king dodges the blade, but Torbin continues to drive forward, shoving the king backward into the drink bar. Glass shatters, liquor spills across the polished floor, and the king crumples, clutching his side where blood begins to seep through his fingers. He looks up at his son, the color drained from his face and evident pain in his eyes—both physical and emotional—but Torbin’s wrath leaves no room for pity.

Torbin clenches his teeth and swings his arm back, his sabre positioned to slice the king’s neck.

“No!” I scream, heart pounding in my throat as I hurl my dagger at Torbin with all my might.

The blade slices through the air and strikes Torbin squarely in the chest. He staggers back, a look of shock momentarily crossing his face as he grips the hilt of the dagger buried in him. Blood spills down his tunic, but his expression hardens almost immediately. With a snarl, he rips the dagger out, and fresh blood pours from the wound, dark and viscous.

Torbin throws the dagger aside, his gaze now locked on the king. His jaw is clenched, and his lips are twisted into a snarl. He advances with what looks like murderous intent, his sabre poised to deliver the killing blow. But before he can reach the king, Dante steps in, his falchion raised to block the strike.

The clang of metal hitting metal echoes through the room.

“Enough, Torbin!” Dante’s voice is firm, his jaw set and his stance unwavering.

For a brief moment, Torbin hesitates, the madness flickering in his eyes as he faces Dante. I can see the struggle within him—the overwhelming desire to finish what he started, but Dante stands his ground, unwavering.

“Brother, please.” Dante holds his gaze, his features softening for a moment. He swallows hard, and he searches Torbin’s face. He doesn’t want to give up on him.

Torbin averts his eyes for the smallest of seconds, his brow wrinkling. He looks back up at Dante, slowly shaking his head. “Let me go, Brother.”

“I can’t.” Dante heaves a breath. “I can’t let you do this.”

“Can’t let me kill our father, or can’t let me marry Celeste?” Torbin scoffs. “You think I don’t see the way you look at each other? I’m sorry to disappoint you, but she is important to the revolution, and the Shadow Tsar wants her by my side. She will be my bride.”

“You don’t deserve her.” Dante’s voice is firm, his gaze unwavering. “She deserves someone who will cherish her, not use her as a pawn in your twisted games.”

Torbin’s laughter is bitter and mocking, his eyes flashing with malice as he turns his gaze upon me. “Ever since you came into my life, you were always jealous of the things I had. Looks like things haven’t changed.”

“She’ll never be yours.” Dante sneers.

“If she wants to see her uncle alive again, she will be.”

I gasp, my heart clenching. The tsar has my uncle. And as Torbin’s gaze burns through me, I am left with no doubt that I am staring into the eyes of a monster, a creature driven by nothing but primal instinct and hunger for power.

Dante releases a shout as he raises his falchion, his teeth bared. The room erupts in a flash of steel as Dante and Torbin clash, their swords meeting with a sharp, ringing sound that echoes off the walls. Dante moves with practiced precision, each swing of his falchion calculated and precise, but Torbin matches him, driven by a furious strength that makes his strikes unpredictable.

At the side of the room, the king watches in horror, his shoulders tight and his forehead damp with sweat, as his sons duel.

I watch, breath held, as Dante ducks beneath a wild swing, then counters with a powerful thrust that Torbin barely parries in time. Their swords lock for a moment, faces inches apart, each man straining against the other’s strength. Torbin’s eyes are blazing with a manic intensity, while Dante’s are narrowed, focused entirely on the fight.

With a grunt, Torbin breaks the lock, swinging his sabre in a wide arc. Dante dodges to the side, but not fast enough—Torbin’s blade slices across his arm, drawing blood. Dante grits his teeth and retaliates, his falchion arcing downward in a fierce strike that glances off Torbin’s shoulder .

The fight is brutal and fast, both men giving everything they have. For a moment, it seems like Dante might gain the upper hand—his falchion whistles through the air in a flurry of strikes, driving Torbin back a step. But then Torbin feints left, and as Dante moves to block, Torbin brings his sabre crashing down with unexpected force.

The blow knocks Dante’s falchion from his grasp. It clatters to the floor, sliding across the polished wood as Torbin’s lips curl into a victorious sneer. My breath catches in my throat. Silhouetted against the moonlit sky, Torbin stands menacingly over Dante, his sabre raised.

“Torbin, stop!” I shout, my voice echoing against the ancient, stone walls.

But he doesn’t listen. His eyes are wild, as if filled with years of pent-up rage and hatred. He swings his sword, aiming for Dante’s head. Dante barely manages to deflect the blow, his movements swift but desperate.

“Torbin, I will marry you!” I yell. “I will join you!”

He stops. His shoulders rise and fall with his heavy breaths as he slowly turns to face me.

I’ve got his attention, and I don’t intend to let it go. “You’re right. I want to rule the world with you. I want it all—the power, the respect, the realms bowing to my every whim.”

In my peripheral vision, I see the king watching me, brows raised and posture stiff.

I inch toward Torbin carefully, putting on my best face to convince him.

He lets out a low growl, watching me slink toward him.

“After all,” I continue, “what could I want with a bastard when I can reign over all the realms with the future king?”

He watches me, narrowing his eyes. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Maybe with a sign of affection? And perhaps a toast?” I turn to crouch down where the contents of the drink bar have scattered. I manage to retrieve two unbroken glasses and a bottle of whiskey. I keep my back turned to him as I quickly pour the glasses. Then I rise, offering him one. “Let’s toast to our new life together. ”

“First,” he says, studying my face skeptically, “I need you to prove to me you mean it. Tell Dante to leave. Tell him you have no feelings for him.”

Torbin’s demand cuts through the room like a hellfire. My heart lurches at his words, the cruel task he’s set before me.

I meet Dante’s eyes, those dark, trusting eyes that have seen me at my best and worst. He’s bleeding, unarmed, and I know the only way to keep him alive is to shatter the bond we’ve built with a lie.

I swallow hard, the taste of bile rising in my throat. With my heart hammering, I force myself to turn away from Torbin and look at Dante, schooling my face into something cold and indifferent, even as my chest tightens with every breath.

“Dante, you need to leave.” My voice is steady, but inside, I’m screaming. “You shouldn’t have come back here. I want you to go.”

His brow furrows, and I see the hurt flash across his face before he can hide it. He must know that I’m only saying this to appease Torbin, but I also know Dante’s insecurities, how he’s never felt like he belongs. It’s like a dagger twisting in my heart, but I can’t stop now. I have to make Torbin believe this. I have to make Dante believe it, too.

“I… I don’t have any feelings for you,” I continue, the words catching in my throat. “What happened between us—it meant nothing. You were just a way to satiate my urges, Dante. Nothing but a fuck to pass the time. But it’s over now.”

His eyes search mine, as if desperately trying to find some sign that this isn’t real, that this isn’t happening. But I keep my face a mask, even as every word tears me apart inside. I can feel myself breaking, but I have to keep going. I have to save him.

“You should have known better,” I say, my voice a harsh whisper. “You were a fool to think there could ever be anything between us.” I see the pain in his eyes, and it feels like I’m ripping my own heart out with every word. But I can’t stop. I have to finish this. “Leave, Dante. And don’t ever come back.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence, heavy and suffocating. Dante’s gaze shifts from me to the king, then back to me. Then I see the light in Dante’s eyes dim, I see the hope die, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from collapsing under the weight of my own words.

“Celeste…” he begins, but I can’t let him speak. If he says anything, I’ll break. I’ll fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness, and Torbin will know. He’ll know I’m lying.

“We’re through,” I snap, more sharply than I intend, and Dante flinches like I’ve struck him. “I love Torbin, and I’m going to marry him.”

The silence that follows is unbearable. I can feel Torbin’s gaze on me, watching, weighing my every word and action. I keep my eyes on Dante, pleading with him silently to understand, to forgive me for what I’ve just done, before I finally turn to Torbin.

The prince’s smile spreads as his eyes dart over my face.

I lift the glass, still cradled in my hand. “To us.”

Torbin clinks his glass to mine, and I keep my eyes on him as we both drink.

Torbin grins as he throws down his empty glass. He pulls me close and pushes his mouth onto mine. But I don’t resist. I let his lips devour mine, making him believe I want this to happen. I place a hand on his cheek and deepen the kiss, hoping to fool him so he lets down his guard. This kiss seems to go on and on.

When his arms fall to his sides, I know it’s my chance. I have to act now.

I break the kiss and glare at him. He falters, his widening eyes filling with rage.

With my hand still cupping his face, I propel my power through my body. The buzz surges through my veins, more intense than before. The energy burns within me, and I direct it though my arms, my hands. I can feel it building and begging for release.

With clenched teeth, I use both hands and push the energy force out, a powerful surge that shoves Torbin back. He lets out a strangled cry, trying to pry my hands away, but his muscles have been all but paralyzed. The magic spreads, and I can see the energy burning him from within. It’s as if I’m pushing fire into his body.

As alarming as it is, I don’t let go. He might heal quickly, and I can’t take any chances. I release a primal cry and urge him back hard toward the balcony, and Torbin stumbles, unable to keep his balance. He teeters at the edge of the balustrade, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. Then I gather the energy and force it out, giving him a final, desperate shove. With a wail, he topples over the wall, and his body falls.

Everything seems to slow as he plummets, his body hitting the ground with a sickening thud . My heart clenches. He lies there, unmoving, blood pooling around him. His limbs are twisted at unnatural angles, and his makeshift crown has pierced him in his temple. For a moment, silence reigns, broken only by our ragged breathing.

The king, holding his wound, staggers to the rampart wall and watches in horror. Dante appears next to him, holding his bloody arm.

I keep my eyes on Torbin’s form. He is still, and I can’t see any sign of breath, but my instincts are telling me not to be fooled. He could still be alive.

From the shadows, the carnoraxis emerge. Their shrieks pierce the night, a haunting symphony of despair. They pounce toward Torbin’s broken body, their clawed hands reaching for him. At first, I think they are going to feed on him, to satiate their hunger for flesh and fresh blood. But instead, they lift him, balancing his limp form in their skeletal arms.

The wolves charge onto the scene, snarling and snapping. The air is filled with growls and shrieks and high-pitched whistles. A number of carnoraxis fall victim to the mammals, their forms being torn apart in the wolves’ jaws. But the carnoraxis holding Torbin retreat in haste, dragging his limp form with them, their eerie whistles echoing as they disappear into the darkness of the woods.

As the last of the beasts retreat into the darkness, wolves snarling on their trail, a sense of bittersweet victory washes over me. I tell myself that I did what I had to in order to protect Dante and the king. And myself. Torbin would have killed them both and taken me to the Shadow Tsar. I had no choice. It had to be done.

I collapse against Dante, my body trembling from the exertion and the terror of what I’ve just done. He wraps an arm around me, his touch grounding me in the reality of the moment .

“How did you…?”

I don’t want to mention the fae energy yet, since I’m not even certain I can control it. I show him the empty handkerchief that contained the powder Ezra gave me. “My powder. I had to weaken him. He was too strong.”

He pushes my hair away from my cheek. “Such a pirate.”

“Dante.” I shake my head, my eyes welling with tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I lied to save you. Everything I said to him was untrue. You have to know.”

He doesn’t answer right away, which troubles me. His gaze is locked to mine, and for a moment I think he’s going to tell me how cruel I was, and how the time we spent together meant nothing to him, either. But at the same time, there’s a softness behind his eyes, his brow creasing as if he’s questioning something deep inside. His lips press together, and for a moment, he looks almost hesitant, vulnerable, like he’s unsure of himself.

I can’t help but hold my breath, my heart cinching with uncertainty as I wait for some sort of acknowledgement.

“I know,” He finally says, pulling me in close.

I’m not sure if I believe him, but I bury my nose against his shoulder. When he winces, I remember that he’s bleeding.

“Oh!” I pull back and reach for his wound. “Let me heal you.”

He glances behind me. “My father first. The kingdom depends on him.”

It goes against what my heart wants, but there’s no sense in arguing with him. Reluctantly, I turn to the king, but he backs away from me.

“Your Majesty, please. You’re injured.”

He retreats two more steps, shaking his head. There’s a cold glare in his eyes that makes me shiver. He holds it for a moment before he turns and hobbles out of the room.

I swivel back to Dante, questions sparring in my mind.

“He’s too proud, I think,” Dante says.

But that’s not where my mind went. “Or he’s angry because I just killed his son.”