Page 33 of Love of the Bladed Dove (Drakaren #1)

Chapter fifteen

Layla.

L ayla stuck close to Sparrow as they moved through the dense forest, the damp scent of moss and bark rising from the ground beneath them.

The air was heavy with tension, every twig snap or rustling leaf a potential sign of danger.

No one spoke. Not even Kain. It felt as though the entire Antonin tribe was holding its breath as they carved their silent path toward Graystonia.

Her thoughts remained anchored to one thing: her family.

Her mother’s voice. Her sisters’ laughter.

The brave way her father used to stand when trouble came.

She swallowed hard and forced herself not to imagine the worst. I’m on my way to save them.

I’m on my way. She repeated it like a prayer, a mantra to ward off panic.

As the hours dragged on, her legs began to ache, but she refused to slow.

She could feel they were getting close, she recognized the trees here, the shapes of their trunks, the particular tilt of the undergrowth.

They must be getting close to the Graystonian border, if not already crossed.

Just ahead, she spotted a familiar clearing, sunlight slipping through the canopy and striking the grass with a golden glow and her heart leapt.

Layla absentmindedly jogged toward the clearing, toward the ancient oak she had climbed a hundred times as a child.

She ran a hand across its gnarled bark, its familiarity grounding her.

Sparrow remained a step behind, the ever silent and watchful sentinel.

She spun slowly beneath the canopy, scanning the tree line for any sign—any whisper—of her family.

She knew it was foolish. They wouldn’t just be hiding in the woods, waiting for her.

But a small, desperate part of her still hoped.

Then—whip!

Something sliced through the air near her ear, tossing her hair aside with the breeze of its passing.

A solid thunk followed. She turned toward the sound and saw a hatchet buried deep in the tree beside her.

Her blood instantly ran cold as she turned back towards the direction it had come.

Another hatchet flew from the thicket. This time, she ducked, her instincts roaring to life as she tried to locate the source.

A second later, a Bartorian soldier burst from the brush, arm cocked back, another weapon ready to fly.

But before he could throw it, an arrow sang through the air and pierced his skull. He dropped like a stone .

Layla whipped her head around. Instantly spotting Kain off aways to the right, lowering his bow with effortless ease. His mouth curled into a wicked grin as he winked at her, already reaching for another arrow.

Ten more Bartorian soldiers emerged, but the Antonins were ready.

Kain loosed two more arrows with deadly speed.

Xaden was a whirlwind of steel, carving through enemies with fluid brutality.

The rest of the tribe moved like phantoms, dispatching the Bartorians before they could rally.

Then Sparrow was suddenly in front of her, pressing her back against the oak tree with his body.

His broad frame became a wall, his blade ready.

Layla had drawn her own knives instinctively, but the fight ended before she could act. Eleven Bartorians fell in minutes.

The forest returned to silence, save for the distant chirp of crickets and the heavy breath of warriors.

Layla’s heart thudded in her chest, but adrenaline made her limbs steady.

As they moved forward, she noticed Kain ahead, scanning the path.

She strode up beside him, her voice laced with challenge.

“Strange,” she said, tilting her head. “I thought you didn’t care whether I died or not.” Her voice dripped with mock curiosity, every word a deliberate prod.

He turned, slow and sharp, eyes gleaming beneath the diagonal streaks of war paint. His blond hair was tied back in a tight bun, sweat slicking the line of his neck. That gaze—steady, unreadable— and wholly locked onto hers now.

“Things change, Little Dove.” His smile was faint but real this time. Not mocking. Not sharp. Just... honest.

She blinked, completely caught off guard by the lack of sarcasm.

“Well... either way, thank you,” she said softly, genuinely, before drifting back to Sparrow’s side.

But the words stayed with her. Things change…

. What had changed? But more importantly, why did it matter?

She glanced over her shoulder once. Kain was scanning the trees again, jaw set, but there was a new weight behind his posture, like he was watching her as much as the enemy.

Layla bit her lip in frustration and turned away, unsettled.

By dusk, the trees began to thin. The sky deepened to a velvety purple. They were close. Layla’s breath caught as she saw the towering trees that lined the west side of the castle—her home. Tears stung her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She was almost there, and this time she wasn’t alone.

Sparrow stopped, and the tribe did the same.

They dropped their packs, sitting in clusters to eat.

Layla settled beneath a tree, chewing an apple slowly, her eyes scanning every leaf, every stone, every sliver of moonlight peeking through the canopy.

Then her eyes fell on Theron. Striding through the warriors like a force of nature, his muscles flexing with purpose. Her pulse immediately quickened.

“Come,” he said simply. Layla tossed her apple core aside and stood, brushing her hands against her thighs.

She followed without question, Sparrow following with his usual quiet presence.

Theron led them to a small group of Antonin elites—Queen Okteria, Kain, Xaden, and a few others.

All hunched over a rough-sketched map of her home.

Theron stopped just beside them and turned to her, his voice firm yet gentle .

“We need you to show us where the tunnels are. Now.” Layla nodded. This was why she was here.

She led them swiftly to the edge of the forest, crouching low behind a thick veil of trees. The castle loomed in the distance, a brooding silhouette of stone and moonlight.

“You can’t see it from here,” she whispered.

Lifting her arm and pointing to what looked like an ordinary stretch of wall near the cliff base below the western tower.

“But right there—see the faint crack in the stone line? Press the darker block, third row from the bottom, just to the left of the ivy. It’s a release.

It’ll open a narrow passage that leads under the servants’ wing and up into the library.

” Theron followed her gesture with his eyes, his expression sharp and unreadable.

He gave a tight nod, taking in every word.

She continued on towards the southern side of the castle. The group circled wide through the brush until they reached the jagged cliffs that rose behind the rear courtyard. Layla halted again and dropped to a crouch behind a cluster of moss-covered boulders.

“This one’s harder,” she warned, her voice even quieter now.

“The door’s halfway up the cliff face, just behind that jut of stone.

You won’t spot it unless you know what to look for.

” She glanced over her shoulder, meeting their eyes.

“It’s a latch hidden in the rock. You have to scale to reach it. ”

Theron’s hand twitched at his side, like he was barely restraining the urge to stop what he knew she was implying. His jaw flexed once, tension carved into every line of his face. But he said nothing. Didn’t argue. He just gave a clipped nod, trusting her before speaking through gritted teeth .

“Lead the way. We’ll cover you.”

With a dagger in hand, she scaled the rocks like a cat, Theron close beside, Sparrow directly below. She reached the hidden crevice and pointed, heart hammering in her chest. He nodded, mouth clenching his blade. Then they quickly climbed back down in silence.

When they reached the forest floor again, Layla let out a small laugh, breathless. Shocked she didn’t slip and fall to her death on such a treacherous climb. But the relief was short lived as Theron turned on her.

“Please tell me the next tunnel doesn’t require you to risk your damn life again.” His voice was a low rasp, angry, yes—but laced with concern. Layla’s lips twitched.

“The eastern tunnel faces the ocean. You’d need a boat to reach it.

” Theron just grunted at this. The tension momentarily dissipating as she could tell he was already strategizing.

Already planning. But for the first time in a long time, Layla didn’t feel like a prisoner.

Or a pawn. Or a princess. She felt like a warrior.

And whether it was with Theron, the entire tribe, or herself alone, she was going to take back her home.

Theron.

The moment Layla revealed the layout of the tunnels, the rest of the plan fell into place like pieces of a war map finally complete.

Theron outlined the divisions, two main strike forces, one for the southern and one for the western entrance, each to split again once inside.

A third group would remain hidden within the tree line, flanking and providing cover if needed.

He gave the orders clearly, each word like a stone dropped in water.

Queen Okteria stood beside him, a silent and approving force.

But just as Theron finished, Layla stepped forward, voice urgent. “I need to go with the southern group. It’s the closest entrance to the dungeons, my family could be down there.” Her eyes burned with determination, and Theron’s chest tightened.

Queen Okteria turned slowly, the glint of venom already dancing behind her composed smile. Theron’s pulse picked up. This was not going to end well.