Page 40 of Love of the Bladed Dove (Drakaren #1)

Xaden caught her amused glance and dramatically clutched the saddle horn. “If I fall off and die, promise me you'll tell people it was during something epic, like slaying a bear or saving a village. Not from being thrown off a damned horse.”

Layla stifled a laugh, her lips twitching. “Noted.”

He groaned. “Gods, give me a sword and twenty enemies over this four-legged demon any day.”

She shook her head smiling then reluctantly shot a glance at Theron. Unlike the others, he looked at ease in the saddle, too at ease. Of course he would be the one Antonin to move like he was born on horseback. That fact irritated her more than it should have.

The air had grown noticeably cooler with the sun’s retreat, and as they pressed forward, Layla realized the last day of summer had passed them by.

Fall was here. Normally, it was her favorite time of year, when the leaves turned to fire and gold, when laughter filled the streets during Graystonia’s harvest festivals.

But now those thoughts soured instantly.

She could only picture her sisters dancing barefoot in the city square, ribbons in their hair.

She desperately prayed that they were still in Bartoria.

That the gods had slowed the enemy’s journey somehow.

She whispered Feyric’s name under her breath.

They rode hard until twilight bled through the trees.

Layla finally tugged the reins, slowing her horse when her men signaled that the time had come to stop.

Together, they veered off the dirt path into the dense forest. Soon after, the group dismounted, and the warriors tied their horses near a small creek trickling through the clearing.

Water for the animals. Stealth for the warriors.

“Don’t shoot, I swear I’m only planning to murder a rabbit or two,” Kain quipped as he stepped toward the trees waving his bow.

His voice echoed to the Graystonian soldiers who bristled at the movement.

Layla gave her men a small shake of her head.

“Let him go,” she muttered. Ironically, she trusted him now more than anyone else from the Antonin camp .

She watched a few of her men break off to hunt while others started a fire or took up guard positions.

Theron and Xaden settled by a growing flame.

Xaden rubbed his sore thighs and muttered something about walking the rest of the way.

Sparrow had been told to immediately rest. She didn’t remember the last time she had seen him sleep.

Layla wandered toward Sir Edwin, who straightened the moment he noticed her approaching. She motioned for him to remain seated and lowered herself beside him, grateful to rest her aching body.

“Sir Edwin,” she began casually, “how did you become head of the guard?”

The young man blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “I… trained under Sir Charles, My Lady. But please believe me, I had no idea what he was planning. I would never betray the crown. Never betray you.”

“I know.” Layla leaned back slightly, watching the flames flicker between them. “If we can’t trust our own guard, we have no hope of rebuilding. I’m choosing to believe Sir Charles acted alone. If I’m wrong, you’ll inform me.”

“Of course, My Lady,” Edwin nodded firmly.

“And we will find your sisters. I swear it.” Layla studied him more closely.

So young, yet chosen by his peers to lead.

That had to mean something. She decided she would let his actions speak for him in Bartoria.

A quiet beat passed before she lowered her voice.

“Sir Edwin… should I be concerned about the men here obeying my orders?” He looked confused at first—then realization dawned, and his expression sobered .

“No, My Lady. Every man here knows you will bear Graystonia’s future king, even if he hasn’t arrived yet.

” He paused, then added gently, “But… if I may… solidifying a powerful marriage will end any whispers of doubt.” Layla nodded slowly, even as the words splintered something deep in her chest. She knew this.

Knew what was expected of her. A marriage—political, strategic, not romantic—was always part of the plan.

But that didn’t dull the pain. It made her feel yet again like a piece on a game board, valuable only for her ability to produce a son, not her ability to lead.

She looked out over the darkening forest, wind whispering through the trees, firelight dancing on steel and ash. First her sisters. Then her kingdom.

Theron .

Not far off, Layla was now sitting beside Sir Edwin.

Theron watched from the recesses, unnoticed.

Her voice was low, her posture relaxed but alert.

She was asking questions, listening, commanding gently but firmly.

She looked strong. She looked whole . She looked like someone who no longer needed him.

And maybe she never had. Still, Theron would help her find her sisters.

He would see this mission through, even if it killed him.

Maybe especially if it did. Because even if she never forgave him…

He would spend the rest of his life proving he should’ve tried harder when it mattered most. Theron dropped his gaze back to the fire.

Flames crackled, leaping higher as Xaden tossed a few more branches into the pit.

“Tell me,” Xaden said softly, only loud enough for Theron to hear. “When this is over… what then? ”

Theron didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened. “I don’t know.”

“You think she’ll ever forgive you?”

“No.” The answer came out rough. Immediate. Honest.

Xaden looked at him for a long moment, the usual teasing gone. “You should have fought for her. Fought for what you knew was right.”

“I know.” Theron stared into the fire, the glow painting the edges of his face in amber and shadow.

“I know.” He repeated. They sat in silence for a while, the fire between them and the weight of unspoken things pressing down like a second nightfall.

He should’ve argued. Should’ve fought harder when Queen Okteria revealed her intentions.

He’d never questioned orders before, his entire life had been shaped by obedience, by honor defined through submission to the will of his queen.

But that moment? That moment had deserved defiance.

He should’ve stood for Layla. For her Family.

For what was right. Instead, he had stayed silent—and that silence had made him complicit.

Now, he would carry it with him. Always.

Layla.

Kain returned to camp with three rabbits and two birds slung over his shoulder, his cocky grin preceding him.

A few of her guards clapped him on the back in thanks, already moving to start plucking and roasting.

Not long after, her own men trickled back from the trees, holding up a few squirrels, less impressive, but it would suffice.

Dinner tonight would be meager, but no one complained.

They had warmth, weapons, and a direction.

That was more than they’d had days ago .

After watching Theron slip away toward the perimeter, likely to take a guard shift, Layla wandered over to check on Xaden. He sat on a log, nursing a piece of fruit like it had personally offended him.

“How are you holding up?” Layla asked, keeping her tone gentle, but her lips twitched attempting to suppress a smile. “You were less than thrilled on horseback today.”

Xaden let out a long, dramatic sigh and leaned back.

“You noticed, huh?” He scratched at the stubble on his jaw, glancing up at her with tired amusement.

“Back in our tribe, I could fight blindfolded and drunk and still hold my own.

But the second you throw me on a demon beast with hooves?

I turn into a newborn deer. It's humiliating.”

Layla let out a soft laugh, genuinely charmed by his honesty.

He smiled at the sound. “Don’t worry,” she teased, patting his back, “if you fall off tomorrow, I’ll make sure to tell everyone it was a reeeally big bear.

” She widen her arms to as far as they could stretch as she spoke the tale.

They both laughed until it faded into comfortable silence before Sparrow rolled over near them, stirring slightly.

Then he sat up and nodded at Xaden. It was his turn to rest.

Sparrow rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he grabbed a squirrel and an apple before plopping down beside Layla.

They sat in silence, watching the fire crackle, until her eyes wandered toward Theron across the clearing.

He stood with a few of her guards, demonstrating sword technique.

His movements were fluid, sharp, controlled.

Teaching them ? She wasn’t sure if it annoyed or impressed her more.

Shaking her head slightly, she turned back to Sparrow, her fingers tracing the edge of a dagger from her belt .

“Why are you here?” she asked him, her voice low. “I mean… really. Did Theron make you and Xaden come?”

Sparrow chuckled through a mouthful of squirrel meat. “Simple, really. A few days ago, Theron told me to protect you with my life. I agreed.”

Layla blinked, stunned. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he said with a shrug, as if he were explaining what day it was. She stared at him, absolutely bewildered.

“You know,” Sparrow continued, eyes still on the fire, “he’s saved my life more times than I can count. So, maybe I’m trying to return the favor for once.” Her jaw tightened. “And for what it’s worth,” Sparrow added softly, “he’s never defied an order. Not once. Not until you. Not until today.”

Layla didn’t respond. Her nails bit into her palms as she clenched her fists in her lap. But does that even matter now? That he only questioned it after the blood had already spilled?

“Appreciate your loyalty,” she said coolly.

“But what he did, what he allowed to be ordered, is unforgivable.” Sparrow didn’t argue.

He just nodded and stayed beside her in silence.

It reminded her of when she was first taken.

When words had failed her, and silence was all she could bear.

Somehow, he’d known even then when to speak and when to just be there.

Kain appeared a short time later, dropping down on her other side with all the grace of a lazy lion, propping himself up on his forearms. He stretched his legs out dangerously close to the fire.

“You’re going to burn your feet,” Layla warned .

He turned his head toward her, smirking. “Worried about me, Little Dove?” She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. They both turned back to the fire.

“You know,” she said, angling her body toward him, her voice soft, “I misjudged you.” Kain turned his head, eyes catching hers. In the flickering firelight, his green eyes looked molten, intense. The teasing smile curled on one side of his mouth.

“Oh, I’m sure you did,” he said, his gaze drifting—not to her eyes, but slowly, purposefully, over her face and down her body.

Layla froze, caught somewhere between shock and amusement.

Her mouth parted slightly, but no words came.

Then he looked back up, meeting her gaze again, and chuckled darkly. “You weren’t entirely wrong though.”

Was that a joke? She stared at him, caught off guard.

But before she could find a retort, her attention was pulled toward Theron again.

Still demonstrating, still speaking with her men.

She laid back with a groan, shutting her eyes.

No matter what he did—teach her guards, stand in silence, bleed for her—her anger refused to leave her body.

He had broken through the walls she had built around her, made her believe, even briefly, that she could trust him.

And then he’d shattered it all. But still, damn him, she felt safe with him around.

Somewhere between fury and exhaustion, Layla drifted to sleep, nestled between the very men she once saw as enemies.

She woke stiff and sore, her body already aching from the ride. The fire had reduced to embers. As she stretched, she noticed someone sleeping beside her. Not Sparrow. Her heart sank. Theron.

With a loud, exasperated groan, she rolled onto her back and sat up.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Theron stir and stretch beside her, his presence as aggravating as it was familiar.

Great . She rose to her feet, brushing the dirt from her clothes.

She needed to relieve herself—and clear her head.

She turned toward the trees. Of course, she heard him following.

She spun to face him. “What are you doing?”

He stopped, towering a few feet away. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not your concern. Go away,” she hissed, trying not to wake the others.

“You’ll always be my concern, Layla.” His voice was low. Steady. Too damn calm. And his eyes, —those traitorous blue eyes, held that same look he’d given her in the hut. When he’d held her after she broke. When he’d kissed her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

Her shoulders slumped. The resentment ebbed, if only slightly. “I have to pee, Theron. Just… go.”

He didn’t move. Just turned around, crossed his arms, and stood guard. Of course he did. Layla ducked behind a tree, shaking her head. He made it so damn hard to keep hating him. And that was the most infuriating part of all.