Page 102 of A Dagger in the Ivy

“Keep your eye on him.” He gestures to the nearest guard, who is staring at the transformed carnoraxis and cheering along with Torbin’s men.

Suddenly, Dante’s humming fills the air, a low, haunting melody that seems to weave its way into the very fabric of our surroundings. I glance at him, my eyes widening in realization as I understand his plan. His siren powers, though surely weakened in his injured state, surge forth with an otherworldly energy, captivating and ensnaring the senses of those around us.

The guard closest to us, a burly man with a sneer etched upon his face, falters in his vigilance. His eyes glaze over, pupils dilating as he succumbs to the mesmerizing tune that emanates from Dante’s lips. With a subtle gesture, Dante beckons to him with his head, his movements graceful yet purposeful.

As if in a trance, the guard approaches us, his footsteps faltering as he draws near.

“Unshackle me, won’t you?” Dante’s words drip like honey, and the guard unclips the keys that hang from his belt.

Dante continues humming, glancing around to make sure anyone near us is under his spell. I quickly shoot my focus to Torbin to make sure he doesn’t see what’s happening.

Could Dante’s siren power work on Torbin? It’s worth contemplating, but I doubt we have the time or freedom to test the theory.

Once Dante is free from his binds, he takes the keys from the guard in a deft motion and undoes my shackles. We don’t move yet, though. We keep our hands behind our backs, pretending to still be bound to the stake.

“We need that guard with our weapons to come closer,” Dante says, wincing between some of his words. “Then we can grab them and make a run for it.”

I nod subtly, my eyes darting around. “We can cut through thosetents to the right. There are fewer guards there. If you’re strong enough to use your sword…”

Dante grunts. “I am.”

I don’t know if I believe him, but I’m going to have to trust that he’ll make the effort.

“But first I need to concentrate on that guard.”

Dante’s low hum resonates through the air, barely audible at first but with a mesmerizing quality that I can feel in my bones. The guard who holds our weapons stiffens, his gaze glazing over as he turns toward us, moving as if in a trance. I hold my breath as Dante continues, his voice weaving a spell that compels the guard to approach, step by step. When he’s close enough, Dante reaches out and swiftly grabs the hilt of his falchion, slipping it from the guard’s loose grip. I waste no time retrieving my own weapons, my heart pounding as we exchange a glance, both knowing we have to move quickly.

Chewing my lip, I check over my shoulder, relieved to see that Torbin is still trying to tame his newly transformed carnoraxis with his whip.

We slip through the edge of the crowd, Dante’s hum still threading its way into the minds of those around us, keeping them oblivious to our escape. My pulse races as we weave between tents and wagons, the din of the camp fading into a distant murmur. But I can see the strain in Dante’s eyes, his injuries slowing him down.

As we reach the outskirts of the camp, I feel his energy falter, the hum wavering and then ceasing altogether. The spell breaks instantly, and the guards in the area snap to attention, their eyes narrowing as they realize what’s happening.

“Run!” I hiss, but before we can move, the nearest guard draws his sword and charges. Mustering my strength, I block his swing with my sword, the force of the impact vibrating up my arm. I twist, palming my dagger and driving the blade into his side before he can react, and he drops to the ground with a groan.

Torbin’s loud yell reverberates through the air. We’ve caught his attention, and he’s not happy. Dante casts him a glance. I know that look.He’s conflicted about leaving Torbin. But there’s no way we can get to him now.

I’m starting to doubt that Torbin is actually under a spell. I’ve seen his darkness, and I can’t be sure that it wasn’t something that lay dormant inside of him, now breaking free through the surface of his princely façade. If I’m wrong, if there’s any chance of saving Torbin, it will have to wait.

“Come on, Dante.” My heart is beating so fast, I feel as if it’s going to burst from my chest.

We back away from the mass, but Dante stumbles, his strength fading fast. The arm holding his falchion is limp. I reach out and grab him, using my fae strength to pull him into the narrow space between two tents just as more guards close in. My heart pounds in my ears as I press us both against the canvas, praying we can slip away before they can catch up.

As we flee into the shadows, the echoes of Torbin’s enraged shouts fade into the distance, replaced by the steady rhythm of our pounding footfalls.

The urgency of our escape pulses through me like an earthquake as we stumble through the underbrush. Dante’s steps falter time and again as blood seeps from his wound. His breathing is labored, each ragged gasp echoing the strain in my own chest as we push forward, driven by the desperate need to evade our pursuers.

I cast a glance over my shoulder, dread knotting in the pit of my stomach as I catch sight of the carnoraxis, their twisted forms slicing through the darkness like shadows come to life. With each passing moment, they draw closer, their unearthly shrieks sending shivers down my spine.

Dante’s hand slips from mine, his faltering steps slowing to a near halt as his strength wanes. Panic surges through me as I realize we’re running out of time—the carnoraxis are on our heels, closing in with every passing second.

Summoning every ounce of strength within me, I reach out to him, gripping his arm. “Come on, Dante,” I urge, my voice tight. “We’realmost there. You can’t give up now.”

With a renewed sense of determination, I pull him forward, the weight of his body dragging at my limbs like lead. Each step is a battle against exhaustion, but I refuse to let him falter, pressing on with a single-minded focus.

As we reach the edge of the woods, I spare a fleeting glance behind us, heart pounding in my chest as I see the carnoraxis closing in, their frenzied movements causing my pulse to throb in my throat.

With a final burst of adrenaline-fueled strength, I propel us forward into the cover of the trees, the thick foliage offering a brief respite from the relentless pursuit. But even as we seek refuge in the shadows, I know our ordeal is far from over. The carnoraxis are relentless hunters, their senses finely attuned to the scent of blood.

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