Page 45 of A Dagger in the Ivy

“Thank you. I was taught that my weapon is an extension of myself and that I should wield it like it’s a part of my body.”

“Yes. It seems the lesson has stuck with you.” Ezra walks toward the target dummy. “May I?”

I incline my head. “Be my guest.”

Ezra yanks it from the target and holds the flat part of the blade upon his palm. He turns it over a couple times, inspecting it thoroughly. “This was forged in Alphemra.”

“Yes. My mother’s land. She gifted it to me.” I’m torn between the memory of my loving mother and the nightmare version of her who stabs me in the dead of night.

“It feels powerful.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “And I mean that inmore ways than one. I feel something within it. Perhaps because it carries sentimental power.”

“Yes.” I swallow back my emotions, my eyes drifting momentarily to Nadya, whose lips are almost in a pout. “You can feel that?”

“I’d like to know more about its origins.” Ezra hands back the dagger to me. “Do you know anything more about it?”

“I never learned the history of it, but I can ask my uncle when I speak to him next.”

As if knowing I mentioned him, my uncle’s voice enters my mind. But this time, it’s not a memory.

“Celeste, I’ve arrived safely back at the Garrison. Please send me a message to update me. I hope you’re maintaining your side of the bargain.”

“Is everything all right, Celeste?” Ezra must have noticed me being distracted.

“Yes.” I sheathe the dagger. “I think I’ve had my fill of lessons for today, if that’s all right with you.”

“Yes, of course. We can meet again tomorrow.” Ezra gives me a curt nod. “I hope you’re able to catch up with your rest.”

“Thank you, Ezra.” I gesture for Nadya to accompany me as we leave the courtyard.

Once we’re out of earshot, Nadya takes my arm. “Word from your uncle?”

“He’s fine. But he wants an update.” I push the hair back from my face. I’ve been doing what I can to keep my side of the deal, but I’m not entirely sure the king is upholding his side. “I may need your help getting a message up to the nightfeather tower.”

It will be tricky, though. According to protocol, the tower maester must keep the king informed of every message that comes and goes. I have to choose my words carefully.

CHapter

Nineteen

Idon’t know where Nadya is. We were supposed to get ready for the queen’s birthday celebration and arrive together, but I haven’t seen her since breakfast. She claimed she had to run an errand, and I gave her the benefit of the doubt. But now I’m worried. She wouldn’t normally disregard our plans for no reason.

I’ve been sitting in my room, waiting for her to return, afraid to wrinkle my silky, pink dress. I actually like this dress. It doesn’t flare out, making it impossible to move. It feels great on my skin, and it’s not at all constricting. Indira worked her magic with my hair and makeup, giving me a magnificent boost in confidence.

Since I’m already running late, I decide to leave for the celebration, hoping Nadya will catch up with me. My gut tells me she has a logical explanation. Besides, I really shouldn’t keep Torbin waiting. Not to mention, the queen might find it rude of me to show up so late.

As I hurry down the corridor outside my room, I spot Dante. I figured out a few days ago that his room is also on this floor of the castle, but I don’t think it’s located anywhere near my room, so it’s strange that I always see him wandering this hall. He could very well have a goodreason, though. Perhaps there is another room he goes to in this wing, like the library or a hobby room.

Though I still have the urge to smooth things over between us, I don’t have the patience for his broodiness at this time. He has the tendency to put me in a bad mood, so my plan is to avoid him. However, as he passes me, his eyes narrow, his gaze traveling the length of my dress.

I can’t help myself from stopping short. “What?”

He slows, shifting his feet as he fully turns my way. “Nothing.”

I’m not sure why I can’t accept his answer. “You have more complaints about me? What is it this time? You don’t like what I’m wearing?”

His voice is low and steady. “Doyoulike what you’re wearing?”

I blink, taken aback from him redirecting my question. “What?”

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