Page 51 of Love of the Bladed Dove (Drakaren #1)

Chapter twenty-three

Theron.

T heron was ready to spill blood. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the King—not when Ivar had the gall to humiliate Ciana like that, to touch her with lecherous hands in front of a roaring crowd.

The same rage that once surged in battle now coiled like a viper in his chest. And Layla…

Layla was barely holding it together. He could feel it in the tremor of her fingers.

In the way she gripped his arm like a tether to keep herself from lunging across the ballroom.

The guilt, the helplessness, the white-hot rage—it surged through him.

He would kill Ivar. He didn’t know how or when.

Only that the bastard would pay for what he’d done—slowly, brutally, and without mercy.

The King finally collapsed into his seat, laughing hoarsely as he gestured toward Ciana like a drunk displaying his spoils.

Theron didn’t move. Couldn’t. The weight of restraint pressed against every muscle.

He looked down at Layla—her eyes were fixed on her sister, wide with urgency, desperation etched in every line of her face.

She was barely keeping herself upright. And still, she didn’t break.

She didn’t run. She waited—burning with the need to act, to save.

So he would act for her. Somehow. Now. Before the last thread holding her together snapped.

“Come with me,” he murmured. “Let’s dance.” Layla blinked at him, confused, resisting his gentle tug. He nodded toward Ciana, then back to Layla. “Trust me.” Realization dawned and she nodded.

They stepped into the swirl of dancers. Theron pulled her close and twirled her with practiced ease.

They blended seamlessly into the chaos, gliding among silk and satin and drunken nobles.

He kept one eye on Ciana the entire time.

She endlessly just stared ahead, distant and cold.

Theron gritted his teeth, this wasn’t working.

He racked his brain, then had another idea.

“Follow my lead,” he whispered. He spun Layla, then lifted her high above his head, slowly rotating her so Ciana would have a clear view of Layla.

Layla wrapped her arms around him as he held her suspended a moment longer, then gently brought her back down.

Her smile was radiant, even if forced. Once grounded, she instantly glanced over her shoulder at Ciana’s direction. Theron followed her gaze.

Thank the gods, Ciana was now staring at them, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. Layla pressed a finger to her lips. Ciana closed her mouth, sitting straighter. Alert now. Theron exhaled and pulled Layla off the floor towards where Kain was waiting .

“Washroom?” Layla mouthed toward her sister. Ciana subtly shook her head, barely perceptible. Damn. Layla turned to him and Kain, searching for another way. Another idea. Theron’s mind raced.

“Dance,” he said. “See if she can get up and dance.”

Layla nodded and turned back. “Dance?” she mouthed.

Ciana gave the faintest shrug. Maybe. Maybe was hope.

They had hope. Theron exhaled sharply, the tightness in his chest easing just enough to function again.

He gently pulled Layla off the floor, guiding her back toward where Kain waited.

Now, all they could do was wait—anxiously, breath held—for Ciana to make her move.

She would have to ask Ivar for permission to dance. And they had to pray he’d say yes.

As they waited, Layla glanced between the two brothers, needing a break from the panic chewing at her nerves. “Okay,” she whispered, breathless, “but seriously—how do you two know these dances? And not just know them, but actually pull them off without looking like idiots?”

Kain smirked. “Wedding rituals.”

“Wedding—what?”

“Our ceremonies,” Theron muttered, not quite looking at her. “They have traditional dances. All of them do.”

Layla blinked at him. “You’re telling me that Antonin wedding ceremonies involve ballroom choreography?”

Kain rolled his eyes. “It’s not ballroom, Dove. We don’t exactly have marble floors and gilded ceilings. Try packed dirt and a drunken choir of uncles shouting in the wrong key.”

“And who,” she asked suspiciously, “taught you charming savages to waltz like nobles?” Both warriors grimaced at the same time .

Kain muttered, “Illyada.”

Layla blinked. “Illyada?”

“She said,” Theron gritted out, “‘No son of a king will be caught bumbling around like a donkey with two broken legs.’”

“Once we were of age to participate, she made us practice for weeks,” Kain added dryly.

“With her barking orders, whacking our ankles with a stick if we missed a step. Zero mercy.” Layla burst out laughing, the sound breathless and brief but real.

“So let me get this straight. You two learned to dance... from a terrifying tribal warrior woman... in the dirt... for weddings?”

“Exactly,” Kain said, completely straight-faced. “Romantic as hell.” Theron only grunted. And for a fleeting moment, the weight in her chest loosened.

King Ivar finally returned to Ciana’s side, laughing loudly with his nobles.

His wine glass nearly empty once again. They watched as Ciana casually leaned in.

The King looked irritated at first, then gave a bark of laughter and rolled his eyes.

He promptly stood and they watched as Ciana followed suit.

The guards stepped forward, but he waved them off and escorted her to the dance floor himself.

Theron’s hands curled into fists. Now what? He knew Layla was about to suggest they go out next, but Kain stepped in.

“I’ve got this,” he said, already moving toward her.

Theron met his eyes, he saw something darker than mischief there.

Something resolved. So he nodded tightly and stepped back.

He watched as Kain led Layla out to the center of the dance floor.

They danced fluidly, casually. Theron tensely stared after them.

When the song ended, Kain led Layla straight toward the King and Ciana.

Theron’s heart leapt into his throat. What the fuck is he doing?

! Theron began blindly charging out into the dance floor.

He had no plan other than to get Layla the hell away from that king.

He saw Ivar’s eyes narrow as he turned towards whomever was interrupting his dance with Ciana, until they landed on Layla.

Then they sparkled with desire. Theron’s fists clenched as he was attempting to navigate the crowd to get to them.

Ivar stepped forward, smirking then dismissing Kain before quickly pulling Layla against him as they danced away.

Kain bowed smoothly to Ciana and began dancing with her instead.

Kain saw the anger, the force of nature Theron had just become nearing them and subtly held up his hand behind Ciana, indicating for Theron to stop.

To wait . Theron immediately slowed to a stop.

Anger radiating from him. Theron could hardly breathe.

His pulse thundered as he watched Ivar touch Layla’s waist, his hand sliding lower, whispering who-knows-what in her ear.

She wore a mask of flirtation, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Rage surged beneath his skin, barely leashed.

But he held his position, watching every step, every expression.

When the dance ended, the King released Layla with a kiss to her hand before swaggering back to the table.

Kain was quickly at her side before wordlessly leading Layla back towards where Theron now waited.

“Are you okay?” Theron asked immediately, his voice low and tight.

She waved him off, eyes focused on Kain. “Kain—what did she say?”

“She’s fine,” Kain assured them. “No one’s hurt her, just…

” He paused, jaw tightening. “Just public humiliation, threats towards Aerilynn to keep her in line. She’s staying in a room across from the King’s.

No weapons, no furniture—just a bed. They’ve stripped it bare so she can’t defend herself or cause any trouble.

” Theron’s blood ran cold at this admission.

He looked between Layla and Kain. “That means it’s extremely well guarded. And once they realize Aerilynn’s missing…”

“They’ll seal the castle,” Kain finished grimly.

Theron’s thoughts swirled. They were running out of time. Running out of options. And Layla was still here. He looked at her—really looked. Pale. Angry. Yet beautiful and resolute. His chest constricted with a tight ache he couldn’t breathe past.

He reached for her shoulders gently. “Layla…” She stiffened at his tone and he swallowed hard. “You should leave. Go with Kain and Sir Edwin now. I’ll stay. I’ll get Ciana out.”

Her eyes snapped to his, full of fire and hurt. “Absolutely not.”

“Layla—”

“No!” she hissed. “I am not leaving my sister behind. I don’t care what happens to me. You can’t force me to run away.” He closed his eyes, pained. He’d known she’d say that. Still, it gutted him.

“I just…” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “I can’t bear it if something happens to you.” Praying she could feel his sincerity

She softened and took a ragged breath before looking up at him. She gently brushed her fingers against his cheek. “I know.” Then turned her attention back toward the ballroom, toward her sister .

“Will you get me a glass of champagne?” she asked, her voice low.

“My nerves are frayed, and we need clear heads to plan what comes next.” Theron lingered for a breath, then gave a quiet nod.

He let his fingers linger on her shoulder for a moment longer before stepping away.

If it were up to him, he’d steal her away and never look back.

But it wasn’t up to him. And now… now they would have to outwit a king before the volatility inside him exploded.

Layla.

As Theron disappeared into the crowd, Layla’s throat tightened with guilt. Her heart warred between loyalty and desperation, but she shoved the guilt down like broken glass. Later. She could feel guilty later.

Now, she had to act. She turned toward Kain and Sir Edwin, pasting a sugary smile across her face. “Kain, could you please excuse Sir Edwin and me for a moment?” Kain didn't so much as blink. His smirk said it all.

“Not on your life, Dove. You may fool my brother, but you don’t fool me. What little scheme are you spinning behind those deceptively sweet eyes?” Her smile dropped. Gods, he knew her too well. The urge to scream at him— just trust me —bubbled in her chest, but she swallowed it.

Instead, she met his eyes, defiant. “I might have an idea. But you’re not going to like it.”

Kain tilted his head, amused. “Obviously. You just sent Theron off on a wild goose chase, which tells me this plan of yours is reckless, probably idiotic, and absolutely going to put you in danger.” Layla narrowed her eyes. She hated how right he was.

Still, she powered forward. “The King’s…

fondness for me has been made painfully clear.

Tonight, he invited me to his bed.” She saw Sir Edwin stand up even straighter somehow.

But Kain—Kain didn’t move. His entire body went still, a terrible silence bleeding from him.

The green in his eyes seemed to vanish as a darker storm rolled in.

Layla couldn’t look at him as she continued.

“I wouldn’t actually… I mean—I won’t . I don’t think I could even.

..” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pushed on.

“But if we let the guards believe I’m going to him willingly, I can find his chamber.

Find hers. Get to Ciana before he even arrives.

” With a small gulp, she finally looked back up and met Kain’s eyes.

They were bottomless. Haunted. And furious.

Sir Edwin cleared his throat first, stepping in like a buffer between emotional warheads.

“My Lady. I will carry out your wishes… but I must raise a few concerns.” His voice was measured but uneasy.

“What if the king is already there? What if the guards stop you or worse? And even if you reach her room, there’s no guarantee you won’t be caught trying to cross back or escape with Lady Ciana.

” Layla nodded slowly, absorbing the logic but pushing past it.

“I understand. And I appreciate your concern, truly. But I’m not helpless.

I have a dagger. I know how to use it. I just need to get to her.

If I can reach her, I can lead her out. You’ll be waiting as close as possible if anything goes wrong.

.. We’ll move fast.” The moment the words left her lips, she knew how na?ve they sounded. But what choice did she have ?

Kain still hadn’t spoken. When he finally did, his voice was tightly controlled like a fuse barely keeping its flame.

“And if Ivar’s already there?” His jaw flexed hard.

“If he walks in while you’re trapped in that gods-forsaken room with no way out, then what , Layla?

” Her throat tightened. Tears burned her eyes without permission.

“Then I do whatever I have to,” she whispered. “Because that’s my sister. And she deserves to be saved, no matter what it costs me.” She blinked the tears away and straightened her shoulders. “This is the best option we have. The only one. I’m doing this with or without your help.”

Kain raked both hands through his hair, muttering something vicious under his breath as he turned away from her.

He stood like that for a long moment. Then his shoulders dropped.

He looked back at her, his expression raw and sharp.

“I’ll help you,” he said quietly, voice like the calm before a massacre.

“But if something goes wrong, Layla, if one hand touches you, I swear I’ll kill every man in this castle.

” There was no jest in his voice. Just steel.

Layla’s heart twisted in a strange, bittersweet knot. Somehow, that violent promise meant more to her than any vow of protection ever could.

“Kill away.” .