Page 133 of A Dagger in the Ivy

“Enough, Torbin!” Dante’s voice is firm, his jaw set and his stance unwavering.

For a brief moment, Torbin hesitates, the madness flickering in his eyes as he faces Dante. I can see the struggle within him—the overwhelming desire to finish what he started, but Dante stands his ground, unwavering.

“Brother, please.” Dante holds his gaze, his features softening for a moment. He swallows hard, and he searches Torbin’s face. He doesn’t want to give up on him.

Torbin averts his eyes for the smallest of seconds, his brow wrinkling. He looks back up at Dante, slowly shaking his head. “Let me go, Brother.”

“I can’t.” Dante heaves a breath. “I can’t let you do this.”

“Can’t let me kill our father, or can’t let me marry Celeste?” Torbinscoffs. “You think I don’t see the way you look at each other? I’m sorry to disappoint you, but she is important to the revolution, and the Shadow Tsar wants her by my side. Shewillbe my bride.”

“You don’t deserve her.” Dante’s voice is firm, his gaze unwavering. “She deserves someone who will cherish her, not use her as a pawn in your twisted games.”

Torbin’s laughter is bitter and mocking, his eyes flashing with malice as he turns his gaze upon me. “Ever since you came into my life, you were always jealous of the things I had. Looks like things haven’t changed.”

“She’ll never be yours.” Dante sneers.

“If she wants to see her uncle alive again, she will be.”

I gasp, my heart clenching. The tsar has my uncle. And as Torbin’s gaze burns through me, I am left with no doubt that I am staring into the eyes of a monster, a creature driven by nothing but primal instinct and hunger for power.

Dante releases a shout as he raises his falchion, his teeth bared. The room erupts in a flash of steel as Dante and Torbin clash, their swords meeting with a sharp, ringing sound that echoes off the walls. Dante moves with practiced precision, each swing of his falchion calculated and precise, but Torbin matches him, driven by a furious strength that makes his strikes unpredictable.

At the side of the room, the king watches in horror, his shoulders tight and his forehead damp with sweat, as his sons duel.

I watch, breath held, as Dante ducks beneath a wild swing, then counters with a powerful thrust that Torbin barely parries in time. Their swords lock for a moment, faces inches apart, each man straining against the other’s strength. Torbin’s eyes are blazing with a manic intensity, while Dante’s are narrowed, focused entirely on the fight.

With a grunt, Torbin breaks the lock, swinging his sabre in a wide arc. Dante dodges to the side, but not fast enough—Torbin’s blade slices across his arm, drawing blood. Dante grits his teeth and retaliates, his falchion arcing downward in a fierce strike that glances off Torbin’s shoulder.

The fight is brutal and fast, both men giving everything they have. For a moment, it seems like Dante might gain the upper hand—his falchion whistles through the air in a flurry of strikes, driving Torbin back a step. But then Torbin feints left, and as Dante moves to block, Torbin brings his sabre crashing down with unexpected force.

The blow knocks Dante’s falchion from his grasp. It clatters to the floor, sliding across the polished wood as Torbin’s lips curl into a victorious sneer. My breath catches in my throat. Silhouetted against the moonlit sky, Torbin stands menacingly over Dante, his sabre raised.

“Torbin, stop!” I shout, my voice echoing against the ancient, stone walls.

But he doesn’t listen. His eyes are wild, as if filled with years of pent-up rage and hatred. He swings his sword, aiming for Dante’s head. Dante barely manages to deflect the blow, his movements swift but desperate.

“Torbin, I will marry you!” I yell. “I will join you!”

He stops. His shoulders rise and fall with his heavy breaths as he slowly turns to face me.

I’ve got his attention, and I don’t intend to let it go. “You’re right. I want to rule the world with you. I want it all—the power, the respect, the realms bowing to my every whim.”

In my peripheral vision, I see the king watching me, brows raised and posture stiff.

I inch toward Torbin carefully, putting on my best face to convince him.

He lets out a low growl, watching me slink toward him.

“After all,” I continue, “what could I want with a bastard when I can reign over all the realms with the future king?”

He watches me, narrowing his eyes. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Maybe with a sign of affection? And perhaps a toast?” I turn to crouch down where the contents of the drink bar have scattered. I manage to retrieve two unbroken glasses and a bottle of whiskey. I keep my back turned to him as I quickly pour the glasses. Then I rise, offering him one. “Let’s toast to our new life together.”

“First,” he says, studying my face skeptically, “I need you to prove to me you mean it. Tell Dante to leave. Tell him you have no feelings for him.”

Torbin’s demand cuts through the room like a hellfire. My heart lurches at his words, the cruel task he’s set before me.

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