Page 37 of A Dagger in the Ivy

“It is, but Mersos is filled with skilled farmers, as you know. It’s what makes Mersos so powerful. With the proficiency of Mersos farmers, the plant was cultivated around the perimeter of the land. When the dragons tried to flee the hemlock and nightshade and flew toward Mersos searching for food, they were deterred by the burning dragonsbane. They had no choice but to return to the poisoned lands or be swallowed by the oceans.”

Nadya places her fingers on her lips, listening intently. I guess she didn’t need a nap, after all.

“The dragons, mighty though they were, could not escape the grasp of the poison,” Magister Ezra explains solemnly. “As the creatures they preyed upon succumbed to the toxic plants, the dragons too found themselves facing extinction.”

My heart aches at the tragedy of it all, the once-proud creaturesbrought low by forces beyond their control.

“And so,” Magister Ezra concludes, “they perished in droves. The dragons faded into legend, their existence remembered only in tales passed down through generations. But there are those who believe that remnants of their presence still linger, waiting to be discovered.”

As I absorb the weight of his words, a sense of reverence washes over me, the legacy of the dragons echoing through the corridors of time. When the sound of sniffling reaches my ears, I turn, surprised to see Nadya with tears rolling down her cheeks.

I reach out and take her hand. She blinks her tears away, releasing an embarrassed laugh. “It’s just dust in my eyes. This place could use the help of a maidservant.”

Ezra shifts his position, obviously uncomfortable with Nadya’s display of emotion. “Yes, well. Shall we move on with some pointers on court etiquette?”

After a half hour of the magister going over which nobles and courtiers frequent the castle, my legs are restless and Nadia begins to yawn. Ezra must take the hint because he picks up a cloth and rubs away the notes he’s scribbled on the wall.

“I think we’ve done very well for our first lesson. But if there is anything you’d like to ask, I am at your service, Your—em, Celeste.”

I’m about to call it a day when something occurs to me. The magister is familiar with everyone at court. He knows all the comings and goings and is certain to keep up with everything occurring within the castle walls.

“Actually, yes. There is a subject I could use more insight on.”

Nadya makes a small noise of protest, clearly not wanting to endure our confinement to this room any longer.

“Of course,” Ezra says, clapping the chalk dust off his hands. “On which subject should I enlighten you?”

“I’m trying to decipher why the prince’s brother hates me.” I keep my expression plain, as if I’ve asked about some piece of history rather than the reason for someone’s personal aversion.

When the magister turns to me, his brows are knit together. “Hatesyou?”

“That is the feeling I get, yes. When he scowls at me, at least.” And when he tells me I don’t belong here. But I don’t mention that last part to the magister, for fear word will travel to the king. There’s enough tension brewing in the castle without me stirring the pot.

“I noticed it, too.” Nadya tilts her head. “At breakfast.”

The magister lines up some parchment on his desk and worries his lip. As he rubs more powder from his fingers, he looks up at me. “You don’t know much about Dante Stregasi, do you?”

His words ring true, but I still don’t understand what that has to do with Dante’s attitude toward me. There must be something I’m missing. “No. I don’t know him at all.”

Magister Ezra crosses his arms and leans back against his desk. “Dante resides—at least most of the time—here at Ivystone because his mother was killed years ago, and his father, which the king fully admits he is, had the heart to take him under his care. At the time of Dante’s mother’s death, your father sat on the Delasurvian throne.”

The gears in my head whirl as I try to deduce what he’s getting at.

“There was a decree enforced at the time, wherein your father had the right to capture and imprison any siren caught trespassing within the boundaries of his land.” The magister watches my face.

My breath catches. “His mother was a siren?”

Nadya leans close to me. “No wonder he hates you. Your father most certainly imprisoned her.”

“I’m afraid it’s worse than that.” With a sigh, Ezra pushes himself off the desk. His stare feels almost intrusive. “He had her killed.”

I experience an uncomfortable shift, as if the bottom has dropped from my stomach, and I’m sure my skin has grown pale.

Killed?

Fuck.

My father was ruthless and always chasing power, to be sure. And I know he was averse to sirens because he feared they could control him and unravel everything he’d spent his life building up. But I had no idea he had sentenced any of them to death. In fact, it was my understandingthat any siren my father had imprisoned was set free once my brother had become king.

---