Page 123 of A Dagger in the Ivy

“Such a tragedy,” Torbin says. “I can’t have any witnesses, of course.”

Nadya recoils, but Torbin moves in on the tower maester. He clutches the man by the throat, lifting him until his feet dangle. Without wasting a second, Torbin marches to the parapet and thrusts his arm out, pushing the man over and letting him fall from the tower.

My mouth opens to scream, but I’m so stunned that no noise escapes. Nadya backs up, stumbling and landing on her backside.

“Let that be a lesson,” Torbin says as he rolls up his torn sleeve. “Do not cross me again, or your friend is next.”

He traipses across the aerie, in front of the cages, and opens every single one. The rattled nightfeathers fly off at once, clearly terrified and wanting escape. Evidently satisfied that we can do nothing more to thwart his plans, Torbin leaves the tower. Once he’s gone, I finally yank the dagger from my hand. I struggle to sheathe it with my non-dominant hand, and as soon as it’s in its scabbard, I grab two cloths that sit on one of the cages.

“Nadya, get up.” I wrap my hand with one cloth and wipe up my blood with the other. My wound will heal, but I need to get rid of the blood. “We have to get out of here. They’ll want to search the tower to figure out why he fell.”

“Can’t we tell them the truth?”

“They’ll never believe us over Torbin. He can say whatever he wants, and they’ll take it for the truth.”

As Nadya and I slip out of the tower and make our way through the dimly lit corridors of the secret passageway, I keep my injured hand tucked close to my side, the crude bandage wrapped tightly around it. Every step we take is careful, deliberate—each shadow is a potential hiding place, and we keep our ears perked for any sign of trouble.

The sharp pain that had been pulsing through my hand fades to a dull throb. I find it surprising, because my healing magic usually takes longer than this to work. But maybe it’s the adrenaline from the harrowing events playing with my mind.

We reach the door that leads from the passage to my rooms, but my shoulders are still stiff. I pause, my thoughts swirling. There’s something I can’t shake, a strange awareness that something within me has shifted.

I press my hand against the doorframe, testing it, waiting for the pain to return. But all I feel is that peculiar warmth, as if my body is trying to tell me something.

In the safety of my room, Nadya lets out a shuddered breath, wrapping her arms around herself. “I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe Torbin…”

“I know. And I feel so bad for bringing you into it. I’ve unwittingly made you atarget in his eyes.”

She wipes two tears from her cheeks. “No. I don’t regret helping you, Celeste. If anything, I know now, more than ever, that we need to fight this battle and find a way to beat Torbin at this cruel game.”

“We need to find another way to get word to my uncle.”

She begins pacing, but I’m distracted by the tingling sensation in my hand. It spreads from where the dagger pierced my flesh, a strange warmth radiating outward, almost like a whisper under my skin. The tingle reminds me of the feeling I get when I wake from my nightmares.

I glance down at my hand and unwrap the bandage. The bleeding seems to have stopped. It’s reminiscent of Torbin’s wound healing before my eyes, except my wound is still very much visible. But there’s no pain, just that odd, unsettling warmth. It feels… different, but I can’t quite place how. I try to shake it off, chalk it up to shock or exhaustion, but the sensation lingers, almost like a soft, persistent hum beneath my skin.

Nadya chews her lip, so I force a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure something out.”

CHapter

Forty-Five

Mymother raises the dagger, her eyes laced with sorrow. “I’m sorry. I can’t let him take it from you.”

I shudder awake. And the tingling sensation lingers a moment longer before it fades away.

Shit, I need to go see Ezra and get more of his powder.

I glance around. The hall is dark, lit by a single sconce. It looks so similar to every other hall in the castle that I can’t be exactly sure where I am. Steadying my breath, I take quiet steps forward, my mind racing to solve the puzzle of where I might have wandered to.

As I make my way down the hall, I can’t help but try to make sense of the images from my dream. In my previous nightmares, my mother had only spoken two words of apology. But tonight, she said more.“I can’t let him take it from you.”

My mind spins. I’d convinced myself it was only a reoccurring dream, but what if it isn’t? What if this is a memory? Not only do I struggle to understand why my mother would stab me, but I can’t fathom what her words could mean. Who was this “him” she was speaking about, and what was it she didn’t want takenfrom me?

Another set of voices rouses me. At the end of the corridor, light spills from a door that’s slightly ajar. Dante’s voice reaches me, and I can’t stop myself from tiptoeing closer to it. I stop just outside the room, my back pressed to the wall as I listen.

“Father, I wish you would believe me.”

“Son, this isn’t you. I know you’ve been swept under her spell.”

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