Page 39 of Love of the Bladed Dove (Drakaren #1)

Chapter eighteen

Theron.

T heron stood behind the towering iron gate of the Graystonian castle, flanked by Sparrow and Xaden.

Their weapons had been stripped, and Graystonian guards surrounded them in a tight circle, blades drawn, eyes wary and unwelcoming.

Theron didn’t flinch. If it came to bloodshed, the three of them could cut their way through the lot of them with brutal efficiency.

But it wasn’t the swords or the glares that had his heart pounding.

It was the woman on the other side of that gate. Layla.

She emerged from the castle like the very embodiment of royalty.

Gone were her warrior leathers, replaced now with a green gown that shimmered softly in the sunlight.

Her hair was still damp, cascading over her shoulders like burnished silk, and every inch of her posture radiated power.

Kain walked at her side, an unexpected loyalty that hit like a blow, but it was her eyes that arrested Theron.

Eyes that once looked at him with fire and curiosity, now burned with pure hatred.

“Why are you here?” Her voice sharp and steady, cutting through the air like a blade.

Theron swallowed hard. Her anger smoldered just beneath the surface- controlled, but unmistakable. Still, he stepped forward, suppressing the instinct to bow his head like a guilty child. “May we come in and speak?”

Layla hesitated for only a moment before motioning to one of her men. The iron gate groaned as it slid open. Theron, Sparrow, and Xaden stepped forward, their boots crunching on the stone path. The guards closed in behind them, blades still drawn.

“Speak,” she commanded, her voice like steel wrapped in velvet.

“We’ve come to help you rescue your sisters,” Theron said evenly. Layla’s brows lifted, then a sharp laugh burst from her lips—mocking and bitter.

“ You? You’re here to help my family? Now ?” Her voice was incredulous, almost feral with smoldering resentment.

Theron didn’t respond right away. The weight of her disbelief was crushing. She had every right to spit those words at him. He deserved far worse. “May we speak privately?” he asked, quieter now.

“No,” she snapped. Her chin lifted in defiance.

“Not hours ago, I asked you to do exactly this and you refused. You chose your queen’s command over the lives of my innocent family.

Over me .” Her voice faltered just slightly on the last word.

“The same queen who ordered their massacre. So tell me, Theron—what changed? ”

His throat tightened. “Queen Okteria doesn’t know we’re here,” he admitted.

“We came on our own…I came on my own.” He paused, searching her eyes for any trace of the woman who once stared up at him under the stars.

“I was wrong. I see that now. When I realized what she planned for your family… I should’ve spoken.

I should’ve fought for you—for them. I knew it wasn’t right, and still…

I said nothing, did nothing. I see that now.

And I’m… I’m sorry, Layla. Truly.” The words were foreign on his tongue—heavy and raw. But true.

Layla’s expression remained unreadable. Her silence screamed louder than any accusation.

Theron continued, needing her to understand.

“We know Bartoria. Its terrain. Its soldiers. We’ve scouted their lands more recently than your men.

Let us help you bring your sisters home.

” He could feel her gaze strip him bare.

Then, slowly, she stepped forward until she stood directly before him.

Despite the height difference, she looked up at him with nothing but ice and authority.

“You and your men may help,” she said, voice dangerously low.

“But if you disobey me once, I’ll have my guards gut you where you stand.

” Theron couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from twitching upward at the notion.

She saw it and her jaw hardened like stone.

“You may help me, Theron,” she added coldly. “But I will never forgive you.”

Those words hit harder than any blade ever could.

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay composed as she turned and walked away.

She moved like a royal angel—elegant, untouchable, impossibly far from him now.

Her gown whispered over the stone with each step, hair catching the light like flame and silk.

She was fire, she was grace, and she was no longer his to protect .

Kain stepped beside him, biting into a peach like they were on a leisurely stroll through a market square. Theron didn’t look at him—not yet—but the weight of Kain’s hand settled on his shoulder.

“Welcome to Graystonia, brother,” Kain said, voice light and taunting, but laced with something quieter. Respect, maybe even empathy. But Theron wasn’t in the mood for peace offerings.

“You defied orders,” he said flatly, his voice low. “You helped her. Why?”

Kain’s grin barely faltered. “Figured she’d be more fun alive.”

Theron turned, eyes hard. “Why, Kain? Why choose her over the tribe? Over your orders? Over our Queen?

Kain took another bite, chewing slowly. “You always did love speeches.”

Theron’s fists clenched, but he looked closer.

Beneath the sarcasm, beneath the lazy defiance, was something steady.

Certain. Familiar. And Theron—who had spent his life honoring law and silence, who had been forged by his father into a weapon of obedience—recognized what he saw in his brother’s eyes: choice .

Kain defying orders was nothing new. He’d done it his entire life—reckless, unruly, impossible to contain.

But this… this was different. He hadn’t just ignored a command.

He’d gone against their queen. Against their tribe.

For her. An enemy princess. A girl who should’ve meant nothing to him. And yet—he’d chosen her.

Theron didn’t understand it. Couldn’t. What was it about her that made Kain turn his back on everything? Fascination? Rebellion? Boredom? It had to be one of those. It had to be. Because if it wasn’t… If it was something deeper…something real…Theron wasn’t sure which truth cut deeper.

Theron exhaled, silently shaking those thoughts from his mind.

He knew Kain wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

He never did. And honestly, it wasn’t worth the fight, the guessing, the anger—not now.

Not after everything. So instead, he did what he knew he should.

What he’d known in his gut since the moment he saw Kain carrying Layla’s mother through the smoke and blood, defying everything to do what was right, no matter the reason behind it. What he hadn’t dared to do himself.

“Thank you Kain,” he said, the words rough in his throat. “For protecting her. For doing what I…” His jaw flexed. “What I should have.”

Kain blinked, surprised. But then his smirk softened into something unreadable. He nodded once. Solid. No gloating. Just understanding. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was an unspoken truce. A shared truth. And for the first time, Theron let it stand.

Theron looked around the grand hall as he waited.

Gold-trimmed columns, rich tapestries, the scent of lavender and burning oils, it was another world compared to the open, rugged lands of the Antonin.

Yet despite the luxury, his only thought was of Layla.

He had lost her trust, maybe permanently.

The weight of that betrayal sat in his chest like stone.

If he had simply stood up to Okteria, if he had acted , none of this would have happened.

She would still look at him with those bright, questioning eyes. Not as if he were the enemy.

A short time later, Layla returned. Cloaked in dark green, she was once more the warrior. A belt of blades strapped across her chest, the same ones he had given her. And Kain’s daggers at her side. Jealousy twisted in his gut again, but he pushed it away.

“We’re ready,” she said. “You can have your weapons back now.”

She barely looked at him, but the flicker of her voice lingered in his ears.

A guard approached with armfuls of Antonin steel.

The warriors quickly rearmed, strapping on their familiar instruments of death.

Theron breathed easier the moment his sword settled against his hip. Its weight was reassuring, solid.

“You girls ready yet? Or need more time to keep getting dressed?” Kain’s voice called out. Theron didn’t dignify the comment with a response. But by the gods, he was going to punch him before this trip was over.

They rode out as a group of twenty, cloaks snapping in the wind as they cut through the outer walls. Theron was given a massive black stallion. The horse huffed at him suspiciously but warmed to him quickly, nudging Theron’s hand for affection.

He mounted the beast smoothly, watching from the corner of his eye as Xaden struggled to do the same.

Kain and Sparrow laughed, and even Layla cracked the smallest smile.

But when her eyes met Theron’s, the smile vanished.

Replaced by a wall of pain so thick he felt it in his bones.

He looked away, jaw clenched, breath shallow.

He had shattered something in her. Maybe something in himself too.

He would ride into hell to fix it. He would bring her sisters back if it was the last thing he did.

And maybe… maybe she’d see him again, not as the man who betrayed her, but the one who would die to protect her.

Layla.

Layla tried her best not to laugh as she watched the Antonin warriors struggle miserably on horseback.

Between the sheer panic in Xaden’s wide eyes and Kain’s constant, subtle grimacing, it was far too entertaining for a day that had held so much pain.

If she didn't know better, she might have thought they'd never ridden before.