Page 108 of A Dagger in the Ivy

“As for the other things, I’m wondering about them too.” He turns onto his back, covering his face with his arm. “My mind and my heart don’t want to accept that that monster we saw was my brother. I’ve seen his temper before, his dark side, but I think… I didn’t want to believe it was his true nature.”

I clasp my hands together to keep from reaching out to him. His wound needs to heal, and I don’t want to hurt him. But most of all, I’m afraid if I touch him, I won’t be able to stop myself. “I know. I feel the same.”

With the impossibilities of our situation whipping through mymind like a tornado, I push myself up, slipping to the edge of the bed and swinging my legs over the side. We can’t stay here. We need to get to Ivystone.

“I should check your wound before we head back to the castle.”

He nods, moving slowly to sit on the edge of the bed. I retrieve my dagger from the washroom, where I left it to dry after washing off all the mud, and use it to cut another long strip of cloth from the sheet I destroyed yesterday. I return to Dante and kneel in front of him, carefully unwrapping the bandages. As the last layer falls away, I assess the damage. I’m pleasantly surprised that the wound that had been so raw and angry last night is now much smaller, the edges already knitting together in a way that seems almost impossible.

“It looks better,” I say softly.

“Still hurts like hell.”

“Healing usually does.”

I gently touch the skin around the wound, inspecting it closely. “There’s still a way to go, but the progress is remarkable. At this rate, the stitches might be more harm than help.” I pick up my dagger and carefully start cutting the thread. “If we leave them in, it could get harder to remove them later, especially as you heal. It’s better to take them out now.”

Dante remains still as I work, his gaze fixed on me. I can feel the weight of his stare, but I don’t look up until the last stitch is gone. “This will also reduce the risk of infection,” I add, reaching for the clean strip of cloth. Before I wrap it around him, I pause, my hand hovering over the wound.

“Let me give it another boost.” I place my palm gently against his skin, feeling the warmth of his body beneath my touch. I close my eyes and focus, channeling my magic into the injury. The energy flows through me, into him.

When I finally pull my hand away, I meet his eyes. There’s something unspoken between us in that moment, something deeper than words. But before I can dwell on it, I force myself to remember our duty. “We need to get back to the castle,” I say, more of a reminder tomyself than to him. “The king needs to know about Torbin.” I carefully wrap the new bandage around his abdomen, my fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to leave this small cabin, this fragile peace we’ve found, but duty calls. And as much as I might wish otherwise, there’s no escaping it.

He stiffens his jaw as he stands, and I keep my eyes on him for a moment longer in my kneeling position before I get to my feet.

The next moments are full of frantic anticipation and worry. We hurry to dress and gather our things. Once we’re set, we sheathe our weapons and head outside, and I’m relieved to find the horses nearby.

As we prepare to leave the manor, a prickling sensation creeps up the back of my neck, and I sense eyes upon us. With a quick glance around, I catch a glimpse of movement among the trees, a shadowy figure skulking in the underbrush. Instinct takes over, and I dart forward, my boots pounding against the forest floor as I give chase.

“Wait here, Dante!” I call over my shoulder, my heart pounding in my chest as adrenaline surges through my veins. The figure ahead moves with surprising agility, ducking and weaving through the dense foliage as if they know these woods better than anyone. I can’t see his face because his hood hangs over his head.

I push myself harder, determination fueling my strides as I close the distance between us. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my thundering heart drowning out all other noise as I focus on catching our elusive spy. But just as I’m about to reach him, a pack of wolves emerges from the shadows, their growls echoing through the forest.

I skid to a halt, my heart pounding as the wolves circle around us, their eyes glinting with predatory intent. The spy turns to watch the pack, and when he looks in my direction, I can see the bottom half of his face. There’s something familiar about the features, something that makes my skin crawl. It’s Osrem, Torbin’s advisor.

What the fuck is he doing out here?

Osrem pulls a dagger from his cloak, and I can see a sneer beneath the shadows of his hood.

The wolves snarl, and fear grips me as I realize I’m trapped, caughtbetween Osrem and the hungry pack of predators. As the wolves encircle us, their growls grow more pronounced, and a sudden realization washes over me like a wave crashing against the shore. They’re not growling at me—they’re growling at Osrem, their attention focused solely on him. A strange sense of reassurance floods through me, as if a silent understanding passes between these creatures of the forest and me.

Have the wolves been on my side all this time? My mind quickly flashes through the times I’ve been out sleepwalking, waking to find myself lost, hearing the sounds of their howls. What I’ve thought were howls of threats may have been warning calls. As if they’ve been watching over me from afar. The idea feels surreal yet oddly comforting, like discovering an unseen guardian whose intent is to protect me.

With newfound resolve, I stand tall, my gaze locked on the spy who now stands frozen in fear, facing the wrath of the wolves. The growling animals stand between me and Osrem, drawn back on their haunches, ready to pounce.

Osrem suddenly darts through a narrow break in the trees, his cloak whipping behind him. The wolves are on him in an instant, their growls echoing through the woods as they give chase. I watch, my breath caught in my throat, as the shadows of their sleek bodies blur into the darkness. Osrem stumbles, nearly falling, but somehow regains his footing and surges forward. The last glimpse I catch of him is his wild, desperate glance over his shoulder before the forest swallows him whole.

For a moment, I consider pursuing, but the snarls and snapping of jaws fade quickly into the distance. I know better than to follow; I need to get back to Dante. Turning on my heel, I retrace my steps through the foliage, the forest eerily silent now except for the sound of my own footsteps. The urgency that drove me to chase Osrem now pulls me back toward the horses, and toward Dante.

When I get back, Dante watches me. His eyes scan me as if checking if I’m all right.

“What happened?” he asks, coming closer.

“It was Osrem. I don’t know what he was doing here, but he managed to slip away.” I try to steady my heartbeat. “Though I can’t besure he got far. There were wolves in the woods, and they chased after him.”

His widened eyes go from me to the woods and back again. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” I gesture to the horses. “We should head out.”

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