Page 88 of A Dagger in the Ivy

“He’s using them as food, Commander. He’s capturing them, families at a time, and feeding them to the carnoraxis.”

I blanch. The horror of it roils my stomach. I can’t fathom the absolute terror these families have been dealing with. It’s difficult to wrap my head around the depth of such cruelty. My mind struggles to grasp the sheer inhumanity of it—using innocent people, children, as nothing more than fodder for those monsters. The thought twists my insides, and I feel bile rising in my throat.

Taking a breath to steady myself, I meet Rose’s eyes. “We won’t let it continue,” I say, my voice hardening with resolve. “We’ll find a way to stop him, and we’ll protect those who have made it here. The regiment is doing everything it can so that no one else will suffer that fate.”

Later, after everyone has been fed, Dante and I rejoin my squad, gathering near a small fire on the outskirts of camp as the refugees retire to their tents to sleep. The night sky is clear and full of stars, and the fire between us crackles. Rose gives us all a mug of cheap ale to warm ourselves as the temperature drops.

“You know,” Giorgi says, staring into the fire, “I can’t think of a single reason why I should be a soldier, except that I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“What are you talking about, Giorgi?” Mylo gives them a playful shove. “You’re the best ranger there ever was. No one can scout unknown territory—and memorize every inch of it—better than you.”

“That may be, but I’m not exactly comfortable with all the blood we have to deal with.” Giorgi grimaces.

“Nobody likes killing, Giorgi,” I say. “We only do it when necessary.”

“You might want to remind Aila of that rule.” Isaac smirks at her.

“Hey, if you don’t cross me, you have nothing to worry about.” Aila sips her ale. “And if I did have to kill someone, I wouldn’t tell you. I’d only tell Celeste because I know she’d help me bury the body, no questions asked.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “I’d askhow deep.”

Everyone in the group except Isaac laughs. Though it’s just a joke,the flash of memory from the night Torbin killed Lord Alistair dampens my mood a bit.

“Don’t pout, Isaac.” Giorgi pats Isaac on the back. “What you lack in people skills, you make up for in crossbow talent.”

Isaac scoffs. “Don’t bother trying to get on my good side. I already hate you. That’s not going to change.”

“Wait.” Mylo leans forward. “You have a good side?”

Another round of laughter erupts, and thenIsaac takes a gulp of his ale, turning to me. “So, Commander, when’s the wedding?”

A thump sounds, but it’s hard to see where it came from because of the dark.

“Ow.” Isaac turns to Mylo. “Did you just kick me?”

“That was me,” Aila says before holding her mug up as if to propose a toast.

“Well, cut it out. It was a legitimate question.” Isaac tilts his head at me, waiting for an answer.

I squirm, uncomfortable with all the stares. “The queen is in charge of setting the date. I’m sure she’ll announce it soon.”

Dante stands. I force myself to keep my eyes trained on the ground, but in my peripheral vision, I’m watching him. He moves toward some trees near the outer perimeter, and when he digs into his jacket pocket, I glance at what he’s doing. He pulls a rolled cigarello out of a tin and shoves it in his mouth. In the darkness, his grey eyes find me. I press my lips together, shivering as a cool breeze runs through my hair. He lights a match and turns away, gazing out past the trees.

What am I doing?

My squad carries on with their banter, and small sounds from within the camp carry on the wind. A baby crying. A mother humming a lullaby. Two men sharing a laugh.

I glance around the camp, my heart heavy with the knowledge that the king opposes these makeshift settlements. He ordered them all shut down. For a second, my nerves seize with fear that Dante will report the camp’s existence to him. I stare at him, hesitant to bring it up, but the question nags me. I stand, wrapping my arms around myself, and strollout toward Dante. My boots crunch in the snow, so I know he hears me approaching.

“Miss me already?” Dante says, not even turning around to check that it’s me.

“I, uh, need to ask you something.”

He swivels his head toward me, and the corner of his lips inch upward. “Oh?”

I take a deep breath and hope for the best. “Are you going to tell your father about this? The camp, I mean. I know it goes against his plan.”

Dante meets my gaze steadily, a flicker of determination in his eyes. “I know how to keep a secret, Highness.”

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