Page 135 of A Dagger in the Ivy

“Dante.” I shake my head, my eyes welling with tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I lied to save you. Everything I said to him was untrue. You have to know.”

He doesn’t answer right away, which troubles me. His gaze is locked to mine, and for a moment I think he’s going to tell me how cruel I was, and how the time we spent together meant nothing to him, either. But at the same time, there’s a softness behind his eyes, his brow creasing as if he’s questioning something deep inside. His lips press together, and for a moment, he looks almost hesitant, vulnerable, like he’s unsure of himself.

I can’t help but hold my breath, my heart cinching with uncertainty as I wait for some sort of acknowledgement.

“I know,” He finally says, pulling me in close.

I’m not sure if I believe him, but I bury my nose against his shoulder. When he winces, I remember that he’s bleeding.

“Oh!” I pull back and reach for his wound. “Let me heal you.”

He glances behind me. “My father first. The kingdom depends on him.”

It goes against what my heart wants, but there’s no sense in arguing with him. Reluctantly, I turn to the king, but he backs away from me.

“Your Majesty, please. You’re injured.”

He retreats two more steps, shaking his head. There’s a cold glare in his eyes that makes me shiver. He holds it for a moment before he turns and hobbles out of the room.

I swivel back to Dante, questions sparring in my mind.

“He’s too proud, I think,” Dante says.

But that’s not where my mind went. “Or he’s angry because I just killed his son.”

CHapter

Fifty

Nadya steps into my room, but I don’t look up right away. I’m still numb, still stuck in a mesmerized state of disbelief, from the events of the attack.

The air in Hedera is thick with unease. It’s been two weeks, and the citizens are still waiting for an official announcement from the royal court. The king and queen have been mostly shut behind doors of their private quarters. Moving through the corridors of the castle the past two weeks has been like walking on eggshells. The servants whisper in hushed tones, their eyes darting nervously, as if expecting calamity at any moment. The courtiers, usually so poised and composed, have been on edge—pacing the halls with furrowed brows and exchanging anxious glances. Even the guards, who normally stand stoic and resolute, have seemed restless, their hands gripping their weapons a little too tightly. It’s as if the entire kingdom has been holding its breath, waiting for the storm to break, and the uncertainty of what comes next hangs over us all like a dark cloud.

There’s been talk of shouting from the king and sobbing from the queen heard through the door of their private quarters. They don’t cometo breakfast anymore, and even Dante hasn’t seen them since his brother fell. I’m sure they’re trying to figure out the right course of action to take.

“Celeste.” Nadya stands nearby, waiting for me to respond.

I have a feeling she’s been calling my name, but I haven’t heard her. “Sorry. What is it?”

“It’s the king. He wants to see you.”

My throat closes up. I’m not sure what to expect. Is he going to send me home, cutting all ties and ending his promise of aid to Delasurvia? Is he going to blame me for his son’s topple and demand I be punished? Does he still think I put him under some kind of fae spell?

“Thank you, Nadya.” I stand and take her hands. “Are you all right?”

“I’m just worried about you. About what’s going to happen to us.”

“Me too.” I pull her in for a hug. When I back out of the embrace, I give her a nod. “Wish me luck.”

Sir Holden falls into step behind me as I leave my room. He no longer limps, after he let me heal his leg. The king’s summons is like a weight pressing down on my chest, each step I take toward the door feeling heavier than the last. As I leave my room, the familiar surroundings of the corridor seem distant, blurred by the anxious thoughts swirling in my mind. My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out the soft patter of my footsteps on the cold, stone floor.

When I reach the doors to the king and queen’s private quarters, I pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady myself. But it’s no use. My hand trembles as I knock. The door opens, and I hold back a squirm when Farvis stands before me.

“Hello, Your Highness.” Farvis extends his arm to the room. “The king awaits.”

Inside, the room is dimly lit, the air choked with tension. The king stands tall and imposing, his face unreadable, a goblet in his hand, while the queen sits beside him, her eyes red and swollen, as if she’s been crying for hours. She looks at me with a mixture of sorrow and resolve, a silent message that she’s here to support whatever decision the king is about to make.

I swallow hard, the knot in my stomach tightening as I step fartherinto the room, feeling as though I’m walking into an uncertain fate. I glance to the side of the room and almost gasp when I find Dante sitting in an armchair. His eyes meet mine, his posture stiff, fingers gripping the arms of the chair. His lips twitch, and there's a slight furrow in his brow. I can tell he is as unnerved as I am having been summoned here.

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