Page 8 of A Dagger in the Ivy (Blade Bound #1)
C Hapte r
The journey to Ivystone Citadel in the capital of Hedera takes just short of two days by carriage. I’d get there quicker if I were to ride Thora the entire way, cutting through fields and hills instead of sticking to the country roads, but my uncle insisted that arriving by horseback and smelling like a stablehand is not befitting of a princess about to meet her betrothed prince. None of my arguments won him over. But at least I get to share the journey with Nadya.
And at least I won the disagreement about my apparel. The gown Uncle Kormak suggested I wear was itchy and suffocating, and it would hardly have fit in the carriage. I told him that if he demanded I wear it, I simply wouldn’t be coming. Since wearing a Delasurvian regiment uniform would be completely out of the question, we’ve agreed on an elegant yet simple light-blue dress, designed for comfort and ease of movement. The round neckline is modest yet feminine and relaxed, and the short, slightly puffed sleeves add a touch of charm. The bodice is softly ruched, creating a flattering silhouette that flows effortlessly into a long, flowing skirt. The fabric is lightweight and silky, allowing it to drape beautifully while maintaining an airy feel, but it’s opaque enough to conceal the dagger sheathed at my thigh.
But what really won me over was the fact that this dress used to belong to my mother.
Nadya and I have a carriage all to ourselves, so we can stretch out and not feel cramped. My uncle’s carriage follows ours, as he is serving as my chaperone until I’m properly delivered to my new residence at Ivystone Citadel. I find it ridiculous that I need someone to accompany me when I am the one who leads my squad on missions without anyone watching over me. Our carriage interior is plush and luxurious, with velvet cushions lining the seats and ornate curtains drawn to shield us from the outside world. Despite the opulence, I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness as we leave Delasurvia behind. The familiar sights of the Garrison and the castle fade into the distance, and I find myself longing for the comfort and security of home.
“Should we play a game?” Nadya’s presence beside me offers some solace, her lively chatter filling the silence as we journey toward Ivystone. But even her infectious energy can’t dispel the heaviness in my heart. She sets down the book she’s reading and leans toward me. “I’ve learned some new ones.”
“Perhaps later.” I offer her a small smile. “My heart just isn’t in it at the moment.”
Nadya’s expression is filled with concern. “It will be all right, you know?”
“I know.” I turn away from the landscape that rolls by outside, facing her fully. I force a smile, though it feels strained. “Just feeling a bit nostalgic, I suppose. Leaving Delasurvia behind is harder than I thought.”
Nadya nods understandingly, reaching out to squeeze my hand in a gesture of comfort. “I know it’s difficult, but think of it as a new adventure. Who knows what awaits us in Ivystone? We said goodbye to the familiarity of the Garrison, but we can welcome all the new experiences and acquaintances the Land of Ivy has to offer.”
“Speaking of goodbyes and acquaintances, I couldn’t help but notice your little rendezvous, slipping into your room with one of the soldiers last night.” I raise an eyebrow suggestively. “Who was it? Mylo? No, they weren’t big enough to be Mylo. Or maybe Aila? I’ve seen how you watch her cross a room.”
Nadya’s cheeks flush pink, and she gives me a playful glare. “I don’t kiss and tell, Celeste,” she replies coyly, a smirk playing on her lips. She smooths out her pale-pink dress, the satin caressing her lovely curves.
“As long as it wasn’t Isaac,” I tease. “You deserve better than him.”
We share a laugh, the tension easing slightly as we settle into the rhythm of the journey. Despite the bittersweet farewell to Delasurvia, I know that with Nadya by my side, whatever lies ahead in Ivystone will be an adventure worth embracing.
Nadya picks up her book and fans through the pages to find her place. She reads for a few minutes, but then her brow suddenly furrows. “Wait, that rendezvous was in the middle of the night. Could you not sleep?”
I can’t let her know I was sleepwalking again. She’s caught me twice throughout the years, but I was lucky enough to escape her notice the other times. Giving her a half-shrug, I say, “It was nerves. Had me tossing and turning all night.”
She places her book on her lap and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry. If it happens again, let me know. I’ve found a tea that helps me sleep; you could give it a try.”
It’s not the sleep I’m worried about, but the wandering. And the reoccurring nightmare. But I don’t want her to be concerned, so I simply smile. “Thank you. That’s kind of you.”
Hedera is truly the Land of Ivy. My memory of the place is not fine-tuned in my mind, but I feel as though the place has prospered greatly since I last set foot here. Vines of green cling to every structure in sight. The green is complemented by lavender hues from wisteria, dark-purple blossoms of morning glories, and bright magenta drapings of bougainvillea. The towns we travel through on our journey to the Ivystone Citadel unfold like picturesque canvases. Cobbled streets wind through the towns, lined with quaint shops adorned with ivy-laced facades. Gas streetlamps stand sentry on every corner. I can already imagine the warm glow they cast at dusk, creating a romantic ambiance over the charming villages. The scent of blooming flowers intermingles with the crisp air, carried by the gentle breeze that sweeps through the ivy-covered archways.
The architecture of the buildings mirrors the eclectic transition of the times. Half-timbered structures, reminiscent of the Age of Dragons, share space with more modern homes adorned with bay windows and intricate wrought-iron railings. The ivy, which gracefully climbs the walls of these buildings, has probably been around since the beginning of time.
In the town square of Ivystone, a bustling marketplace buzzes with life. Stalls showcase a variety of goods, from fresh produce to handcrafted wares. The aroma of freshly baked bread mingles with the scent of nature, creating an intoxicating blend that defines the heart of the community. Nestled at the base of the hill, it radiates an atmosphere of energetic activity and small-town charm.
Nadya gapes at the town, clearly awestruck. “I love it already.”
“I just hope the people are accepting of us. We are strangers to them, don’t forget.”
Nadya gives me a sly smile. “No worries. Everybody loves me. I can be very charming.”
“That is very true.” I smile, glad to have her with me to ease my qualms.
Our carriage diverges from the main path and makes its way uphill to the looming silhouette of the Ivystone Citadel. It is perched above the town like a guardian. The ivy that cascades down its walls seems to connect the fortress with the vibrant life below, symbolizing the unity between the historical stronghold and the evolving town.
The susurrant sounds of the town fade out as we climb, until only the noises of the horses’ hooves clopping and their sighing from the long ride reach our ears. The view from the top of the hill captures the essence of a town that, despite the changing times, remains rooted in tradition, with the streets weaving a tapestry that binds the past and the present.
The Ivystone Citadel, standing taller than I remember against the backdrop of a near-perfect sky, embodies a blend of the Age of Dragons grandness and royal elegance. The towering stone walls, reminiscent of fortress architecture, are adorned with intricate wrought-iron detailing, evoking the craftsmanship of a bygone era. Tall, narrow windows line the facade, allowing streams of muted sunlight to filter through heavy curtains.
As we approach the entrance, two guards dressed in the green and purple colors of Hedera open a massive, iron gate with ornate metalwork. A glance past it reveals a cobblestoned area in front of the citadel. The carriage stops for a moment while our driver speaks to one of the guards, and then we are moving again, stopping closer to the castle.
When the carriage door creaks open, I gather the material of my dress’s skirt into my fists so I can step out onto the cobblestone forecourt of Ivystone Citadel. Nadya settles a gentle hand on my elbow to assist me, probably sensing that I’m not used to moving around in a dress. My heart flutters with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, but once I have two feet on the ground and Nadya stands close beside me, I straighten my back and lift my chin. Nadya’s presence is a comforting anchor amidst the unfamiliar surroundings, but I’m also a soldier, well-practiced in marching into foreign territories with purpose and determination.
My uncle, who has emerged from his carriage, comes over to us, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. “I trust you both managed the ride without much incident.”
“I feel the need to stretch out my back.” I twist my body at my waist to work out the cramped muscles. “But otherwise, I’m fine.”
“I’m starving,” Nadya adds. “So I hope the Copperhammers have a good cook.”
“Like everything about Ivystone,” my uncle begins as he scans the area, “I’m sure they’ve got nothing but the best.”
“Where’s Thora?” I scan the area for any sign of my beloved mare. The thought of not being with her for the journey gnaws at my heart, a pang of longing for the familiar warmth of her presence. But one of Uncle Kormak’s soldiers rode her here in my stead.
“They’re taking her to the stables. She’s fine. Don’t worry.”
I nod in acknowledgment, though the prospect of leaving Thora in the hands of strangers in the stables bothers me. I don’t know these people. I don’t know how kind or unkind they are to the animals. I painstakingly push down my anxiety about letting someone else shelter my horse, praying that she will be cared for properly.
Courtiers emerge from the castle, headed our way. I take a deep breath, unsure of what to do as the welcoming party draws near.
My uncle turns to me and keeps his voice low. “There’s one more detail we need to see to before we meet the Copperhammers.” He hands me a velvet box, which he must have been keeping behind his back.
“What’s this?” I ask. Before he can answer, I open the box to find a gold tiara encrusted with a row of gems. I wrinkle my nose. “Oh. Must I really?”
“You are a princess, Celeste, about to be a queen. We are introducing you by your title. Wear the tiara.”
I purse my lips and blow out an unsatisfied breath but remove the tiara from the box.
“Oh, it really adds to the aesthetic of your outfit. So sparkly!” Nadya takes the tiara and adjusts it properly upon my head before smoothing out my dress to make sure I’m more presentable.
“Now,” Uncle Kormak begins just before the courtiers reach us. “Let’s go ensure the safety of Delasurvia.”