Page 9 of A Dagger in the Ivy (Blade Bound #1)

C Hapter

I have to remember to breathe.

Turning my attention to the imposing facade of Ivystone Citadel, I am struck by its majestic architecture. I can’t help but think this place has grown tenfold since I was last here. Either that, or my mind selectively erased the details of the castle from my memory. The stone walls rise tall and formidable, adorned with intricate carvings and embellishments that speak of centuries of history and tradition, all of it dripping with vines of ivy.

“I’d hate to be the one in charge of the room atop that thing.” Nadya swallows hard as she gapes upward.

I stretch my neck to follow her line of vision, taking in the view of the tallest turret I’ve ever seen. It towers above the castle so high, I’m sure it can overlook the entire world. “I believe that’s where they keep their nightfeathers.” From that height, the king’s messenger birds would have a clear, far-reaching view in any direction they were sent.

A wide, stone staircase leads up to the entrance, flanked by imposing statues and lush, manicured gardens that lend an air of elegance to the surroundings. The scent of blooming flowers floods the air, mingling with the faint hint of wood smoke from nearby hearths .

I wet my lips, my hands fluttering to my neck, as a sense of awe washes over me, mingled with a trace of apprehension at the thought of what awaits within. I’ve been here as a child, accompanying my parents when they visited the King and Queen of Hedera, but everything looks different than I remember it. More massive. And maybe even a bit more intimidating. But I square my shoulders, steeling myself for whatever lies ahead, knowing that I must navigate this unfamiliar realm with the grace and determination of a princess.

The next few minutes feel like I’m stuck in a dream that rushes by me. The courtiers greet us, and servants are instructed to bring our trunks of belongings inside. The bustle of activity makes me uneasy, but I try to concentrate on the task at hand. The chamberlain and the high commander of the kingsguard, whose names I’ve already forgotten, lead us up the stairs to the castle entrance.

My uncle walks beside me, and Nadya follows a few steps behind. I resist the urge to wring my hands or bite my lip, forcing myself to remember that the whole court may be watching me and judging my every move. I keep thinking my tiara is slipping, but I push the thought away. As we enter the grand hall of Ivystone Citadel, the grandeur of the place makes me lightheaded. This is nothing like Bennett’s castle—my castle. And even our castle is a far cry from the simple, primitive quarters of the Garrison. Here, the opulent décor, the intricate tapestries, and the regal air of the place take my breath away.

Farther inside the citadel, extravagant wallpaper and plush furnishings evoke the refinement of noble aesthetics. High ceilings adorned with intricate moldings lend an air of sophistication to the chambers within. Elegant vases stuffed with fabulous flowers and hand-woven rugs add a touch of opulence, contrasting with the rugged stone walls.

Ivystone Citadel seamlessly merges historical charm with the societal shifts of the modern day. The clang of armor and the clash of swords have given way to the clinking of fine flatware and the murmur of refined conversations, marking a transition from the fortifications of the Age of Dragons to a citadel that stands as a testament to a changing world.

My thoughts are a whirlwind of anticipation and unease. In a few moments, I’m about to meet my future husband. I haven’t seen Torbin in years, not since we were children playing in the palace gardens. I’m not sure if he even remembers me. And even though I know this is the right strategy for Delasurvia, it’s still a strange feeling knowing I’m going to be somebody’s wife. Especially when I don’t really know anything about him.

The chamberlain turns to us, and for the first time, he looks directly at me instead of my uncle. “Your Highness, the king and queen await you in the throne room.” He bows slightly, his arm extended toward the doorway.

Since I’ve forgotten his name, I simply give him a smile and a nod.

My uncle must recognize the reason behind my silence and cuts in. “Thank you, Master Zimmerman.”

I take note of his name and inhale in a deep breath, readying myself to enter the throne room. Once past the doorway, I find it hard to breathe. My attention is immediately drawn to the figure of King Silas Copperhammer, seated upon his ornate throne in the center of the dais. Despite the weight of his responsibilities, he carries himself with a regal bearing, his tall frame exuding an aura of authority and command.

The king’s striking-white hair and beard, meticulously groomed, gleam in the soft light shining through the colored glass of the ceiling-high stained-glass windows behind him, framing a face weathered by years of rule and wisdom. His features are stern yet distinguished, with intense, blue eyes that seem to miss nothing within his domain. Deep lines etched beside his eyes are evidence of a life filled with both burdens and triumphs.

Draped in rich, emerald-green robes that symbolize his royal status, King Silas exudes regality. The intricate, gold embroidery along the edges of his robe highlights his wealth of his kingdom. The heavy fabric of his attire, along with the ornate belt cinching his waist, adds to his formidable appearance.

Seated on a lavishly adorned throne, King Silas holds himself with a posture of dignity and power. The carved armrests of his throne feature detailed motifs, reflecting the rich history and culture of Hedera. His hand rests lightly on the armrest, a subtle gesture that speaks of both control and contemplation. Despite his stern demeanor, there is a glimmer of deep thoughtfulness in his expression, hinting at the complex decisions and responsibilities he bears as king.

My father was friends with this man, once upon a time. They had a falling-out, but I never discovered the reason behind it. The way the king is scrutinizing me now, I wonder if he’s still holding a grudge.

My gaze drifts to King Silas’s left, where Queen Eleanor sits upon her throne beside him. This woman sits like a goddess. She embodies regal elegance and grace. Her fair complexion is complemented by delicate features, and her pale-blue eyes possess a serene and gentle expression, hinting at wisdom and compassion. Her platinum-blonde hair cascades down her back like spun gold, a striking contrast to the rich hues of her royal attire. High cheekbones and full lips are complemented by the soft curve of her jawline.

She wears a luxurious, high-necked gown in a soft lavender hue, which accentuates her graceful figure. The gown is adorned with delicate lace and subtle embroidery, exuding sophistication and refinement. The colored light makes her diamond earrings sparkle. Her hands are covered in velvet gloves, clasped upon her lap as she studies me.

As her eyes meet mine, I sense a depth of emotion within, hidden beneath a facade of regal composure. Perhaps she is simply worried about who her son is going to marry.

One step below the dais and near the wall stands a man in green-and-black robes. His brows practically meet above his nose, and his eyes are so clear, they are almost white. He must serve some purpose in the court, but I can’t tell yet what it might be.

I glance around the room, curious to see Torbin, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Shouldn’t he be here to greet me?

“Your Majesties,” Master Zimmerman announces, drawing my attention away from the white-eyed man, “I present Her Royal Highness Celeste Westergaard of Delasurvia, chaperoned by her uncle, General Kormak Moorgrin of the Delasurvian Royal Regiment.”

The king stands, and the queen follows suit. His features change, a sudden, welcoming smile appearing on his face, burying the previous scrutiny. I can’t help but wonder if it’s fake.

My uncle bows, and I drop into the curtsey he made me practice back at the Garrison.

“Ah, yes.” The king dips his head only slightly. “Welcome to Ivystone, Princess.”

“We are honored that you have agreed to the union with our son.” Queen Eleanor’s voice has a slight tremble to it I can’t ignore. I’m suddenly paranoid that she doesn’t approve of me.

Not that it matters. If I don’t have a say in this arranged marriage, I’m willing to bet she doesn’t, either.

“Celeste, don’t be rude.”

I don’t turn toward my uncle but listen to his advice. “Thank you so much for having me. It is I who am honored.” That should do it. I give my kindest smile so they believe I’m being authentic.

“We do apologize for our son not being here to greet you with us.” Queen Eleanor casts a glance to the door across the room as if expecting him to enter.

“Nonsense,” King Silas puts in. “Men may feel the need to answer to the whims of women, but Torbin is a prince. He’s always done what he pleases, and he will arrive when he sees fit.”

His words are extremely off-putting. I look to the queen to see her reaction, but she has dropped her eyes to the floor.

“It is our fault,” Uncle Kormak announces. “We have arrived earlier than expected.”

“Ah, so the rumors of Delasurvian horses are true. Bred to speed into battle.” The king’s chortle echoes in the room.

“I hope you are not too weary after days of travel.” The queen comes closer, her lips parting slightly as she smiles at me. “We’ve organized a welcome ball so that we may introduce you properly to the court.”

A ball is the last thing I’m up for, but my uncle’s telepathic voice in my head warns me not to disappoint the queen .

“A ball sounds lovely,” I tell her. “I’m so grateful for the gesture. I would just need to freshen up.”

A creak cuts through the space, and I turn to see a tall figure enter.

He isn’t dressed too formally, which strikes me immediately. Instead of a suit jacket, he wears a simple yet elegant white shirt, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his strong forearms, and the top button is undone. Over it, a dark vest fits snugly, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean frame. His sun-bleached, blond hair is longer than I remember, the gentle waves hitting the middle of his ear, swept back casually but still managing to look effortlessly regal.

He has grown into a fine man, I realize, my heart skipping a beat. The boyish features I remember have matured into a chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. His blue eyes, once full of mischief, now hold a depth and intensity that I find captivating. Distractingly so. And he moves with a confidence that commands the room, his presence absolutely magnetic.

He wears no crown, which makes me feel a bit ridiculous in my tiara.

As he approaches, a smile spreads across his face, and I see a flicker of the boy I once knew. “Celeste?” His voice is rich and smooth.

I falter, not sure if I should curtsey for him. “Hello, Your Highness.”

“No, no. I’ll have none of that.” He lets out a short laugh. “My betrothed should address me by name. Besides, we’ve known each other since we were children. We’re old friends by now.”

I give him a curt nod. “Torbin.”

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this: I’ve always remembered you as pretty, but you’ve certainly blossomed into a beautiful woman.”

I’m not usually swayed by such compliments, but his charm makes it easy to understand why he’s the subject of courtier gossip. “You flatter me. You’ve blossomed a bit yourself.”

There’s a moment between us of shared memory, a fleeting connection that feels both familiar and strange. The years apart have transformed us both, but the bond of our childhood lingers, weaving through the formalities and the expectations that surround us.

The king chortles. “Well, I can see we’ve made a good match, indeed. Yes, a nice pair. All the easier to settle the terms of our agreement.”

I shoot a questioning look at my uncle, but it dissolves almost immediately when he subtly shakes his head. I thought the terms were that I marry King Silas’s son with the prospect of one day in the future providing heirs to both our lands, and in turn the king uses Hedera’s resources to support Delasurvia.

King Silas returns to his throne, sitting back and tilting his head. There’s a slight smirk playing on his lips that makes it seem like he’s just lured us into a trap.

I pray that’s not the case.

“From our side, I have arranged counsel with Mersos, informing them of our alliance so that we may iron out a trade agreement for Delasurvia.” The king taps his fingertips together. “In order for this to go over smoothly, I will announce that Delasurvia will, as of today, cease harboring refugees from Dulcamar.”

“What?” My hands are balled into fists, my heart cinching in my chest.

“The decree will state that the rescues will stop, and no Dulcamarans may cross the borders into Hedera or Delasurvia.”

My words come out through clenched teeth. “That’s out of the question.”

“Celeste, please hear him out.”

I glare at my uncle before turning back to the king.

King Silas raises a hand, signaling for me to wait. “This is just a temporary hold. Do not worry. We need to assure good faith with Mersos first, bring the Delasurvian citizens out of starvation, and calm the fires of the protestors. We need to wait until citizens of all lands settle and get comfortable with their new queen. Once all that is established, we can deliberate options for those seeking refuge from the Shadow Tsar’s oppressive reign.”

Deliberate? Options? What does that mean? I glance at Torbin, wondering if he is aware of these terms, but his expression tells me this is all news to him. His brow wrinkles and his arms are crossed as he listens .

“Trust me,” the king continues. “These things take time and are better left to wise men in high positions. My royal advisor, Farvis, ensures me that this strategy will work best.” He gestures to the man with the nearly white eyes.

Farvis steps forward and gives a slight bow, his hands balled at his sides. His gaze is shrewd, as if he’s still trying to assess me.

I turn back to the king and open my mouth to object, but my uncle’s voice resounds in my head.

“Take care with your boldness, Celeste.”

The king’s eyes are on me, and I might be imagining things, but it looks as if he’s daring me to speak up. The queen, who is still standing, twists the fingers of her gloves. Her breaths are deep and slow, and her expression remains stoic.

The king taps his fingers together again. “As for our agreement to aid your regiment’s forces, arrangements are already underway to deliver efficient supplies as well as soldiers so that your army may thrive.”

“That’s very generous of you,” my uncle puts in. “We are very grateful.”

“To that point,” I say, unable to stop myself, “I have a few terms of my own. I insist that I continue to command my squad.”

The king’s brows plummet, and he lets out a scoff. “Whatever for?”

Torbin tilts his head, his expression unreadable.

I square my shoulders. “I understand that I must be here, to learn Hedera’s ways and incorporate myself into your kingdom, but I’ve worked hard to reach my position in the regiment, and I don’t think I should be expected to simply give that up. And then there’s the matter of the carnoraxis.”

“Surely, your squad can manage the attacks, assuming you’ve led them correctly.”

“Your Majesty, if you’ll allow me to plead my case, these carnoraxis attacks are something of a personal nature to me.”

“Because the victims are fae?” King Silas puffs out his chest, smirking as if he’s solved some great puzzle.

“Yes, Your Majesty. The situation is getting worse. Citizens are stringing up their own kin, sacrificing them to the creatures, just to save their towns.”

There is a gleam in King Silas’s eyes that sours my stomach. “How very scandalous. But what kind of father-in-law would I be if I let my son’s future bride run off to put herself in danger?”

I raise a brow. “I believe you underestimate my abilities, Your Majesty.”

“I find it completely inappropriate—”

“Father,” Torbin cuts in, taking a step forward. “I think it’s something to consider. The carnoraxis attack at the full moon. I do not mind if she joins her squad at that interval. After all, I, too, would like to continue my tradition of attending the monthly hunt. What’s good for the goose, as they say? Besides, keeping my bride-to-be happy is my foremost duty.” He glances back at me with a coy smile.

For a moment, I let myself relax. Torbin seems to understand me. He seems willing to compromise. And the most relieving aspect is, he doesn’t want to keep me caged in this castle for the rest of my life. I dip my head slightly in gratitude.

My gaze travels back to the king. He appears hesitant, his fingers twirling in his beard as he thinks over his son’s words. Torbin stands tall, seemingly unfazed by his father’s reflective silence. That is, until King Silas shifts forward on his throne with a scowl on his face. In that moment, Torbin averts his gaze, and his shoulders slump a fraction of an inch.

As if sensing the tension in the place, Nadya, who has been completely silent, steps forward to stand beside me. “Begging your pardon, Your Highness, but may I ask where the hunt takes place?”

Torbin tilts his head at her before turning to me.

“This is my lady-in-waiting,” I say, realizing she has not been introduced. “Nadya Steen.”

Nadya curtseys with such elegance, I have to wonder if she’s been practicing without me.

Torbin gives her a nod. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Nadya. Yes, the hunt occurs in the Darkthorn Forest, the deadliest woods in all of Terre Ferique.”

Nadya’s eyes widen. “That is the dwelling place of the mystical midnight buck. Might you be trying to track it?”

“Indeed, the midnight buck is my main target. I am determined to hunt it down.”

Queen Eleanor fidgets with her earrings. “I don’t believe it exists. No one has seen one for ages.”

“It is quite elusive, Your Majesty,” Nadya adds. “The belief is that it brings luck and success, and capturing one would surely send a message of prosperity throughout the realms. Perhaps the sign of a blessing of the Prince and Princess’s union.”

Torbin’s smile lights up his face, making him appear even more handsome. “One day, it shall be at my mercy, mark my words. I am intent on capturing it.” He turns to his father. “I vow to bring you the buck’s antlers as proof of my merit.”

King Silas presses his lips together, his brows drawing closer together as he studies his son. “We shall see.”

Torbin’s gaze meets mine. “I shall have my hunt, and you shall have your squad missions.” When he faces his father, his eyes are widened with hope. “If you agree, of course, Father.”

The king runs a hand over his beard. He then turns his focus to Farvis, who steps forward.

Farvis smooths down the front of his black-and-green robes. “It would be wise to lay some ground rules, of course, but it does seem a fair compromise, Your Majesty.”

Ground rules?

After a moment of deliberation, the king speaks. “Fine. But only until the wedding. After all, I expect that, soon after, an heir is produced. I will not have the unborn heir to Hedera vulnerable in the middle of a battlefield.”

Though I knew that producing an heir would be in the terms, the thought of any child of mine inheriting King Silas’s cold demeanor churns my stomach.

Uncle Kormak dips his head. “That sounds more than fair, Your Majesty.” “It’s a good start, Celeste. I did not expect him to even consider it.”

The wedding won’t take place for a few months, so that gives me time. And if I can find ways to delay it, all the better. For now, I decide to play nice. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The king looks pleased with himself, sitting up straight with a gleam in his eye. “Just one last term—the most important term, I believe.” His quick glance at Farvis tells me that the term was proposed by his advisor. “If, for any reason, the princess rescinds her agreement and does not go through with the marriage, I will take it as a betrayal to Hedera. It will be considered an insult to the good faith of our agreement, and not only will all support to Delasurvia be withdrawn, it will spark a war between our lands.”

My breath leaves me, and there’s a sudden heavy feeling in my stomach. I don’t intend to break my promise, but the king just threatened us with war. I can’t help but feel admonished.

“Yes, of course,” my uncle responds, evidently noting I’m too shocked to speak.

“Very well. My council and I will make the final arrangements, and I shall release my nightfeathers immediately to relay the news.”

“I would like to be present for the final arrangements, Your Majesty.” I keep my voice polite, but my stance is strong.

Farvis and the king exchange a glance.

The king lets out a chuckle. “I’m afraid I cannot allow you into the council chambers, Princess.”

Farvis takes a step forward. “It would be unwise for the court to allow someone from another land to freely enter the chambers where classified information is held. Especially so shortly after your arrival. We must take precautions, you understand.”

I purse my lips, only holding back my argument because of my uncle’s warning look. “Yes. I understand.”

The king leans back and gestures to someone by the door before turning back to me. “You may take your leave and prepare yourself for tonight’s ball. Indira has been assigned to serve you and will see to all your needs.”

Nadya puts a hand on my arm, her brows raised and her teeth sunken into her bottom lip.

I turn back to the king. “I will need my lady-in-waiting to remain nearby. Preferably in an attached room.”

The king’s smile disappears, and his eyes narrow. “I was unaware you would be so demanding.”

My teeth clench as I bristle. “Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but I am upending my entire life, promising you the fealty of my future children. I don’t find my requests out of the question.”

The queen clears her throat. “As luck would have it, there is a room attached to yours. I’m sure it will suit Lady Nadya perfectly.”

I dip my head for the queen. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Nadya follows my lead and extends her thanks.

Master Zimmerman signals to the servant waiting at the door. “Indira.”

A woman around Nadya’s and my age approaches me, her natural beauty striking, with smooth, sun-kissed skin, round cheekbones, and dark, expressive eyes that seem to see right through me. Her long, ebony hair is tied back in a simple braid, but even that looks elegant on her. “If you’ll follow me, Your Highness.”

Indira has the confidence of someone who knows her worth, even in the role of a servant. There’s a maturity in her eyes that speaks of a life lived with purpose, and her modest clothing is impeccably clean and well-fitted.

Before I can respond, Torbin takes my hand. “Until this evening, Celeste.” His eyes stay locked on mine as he brings my hand to his lips and places a gentle kiss upon it.

I give him a small smile and curtsey, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach.

When I glance at my uncle, he gives me a nod. “I will stay for the ball but will have to leave by nightfall.”

I return his nod, then swivel to follow Indira, with Nadya by my side .

Just as we reach the doorway, a man steps in my way, stopping me in my tracks. Stormy-grey eyes bore into mine, the intensity almost bringing me to gasp. He has thick, wavy, black hair that falls just above his collar, framing his tan, chiseled, angular face.

“Ah, Dante,” the king calls. “Come. We have much to discuss.”

Dante’s glare feels like a blade to my throat. It remains on me for a few seconds as he shifts to move around me. I can feel the weight of his disdain pressing down on me, making my skin prickle with unease. It’s as if he’s stripping away every layer of my defenses, exposing my vulnerabilities.

Who is this man? And why does he stare at me like he wants to kill me?