Page 43 of A Dagger in the Ivy

“Watch your step.”

I clench my teeth, forcing myself to go directly to my room. Whatever secrets lurk within the castle’s walls, I realize, are not mine to uncover—at least, not tonight. For now, I have to figure out how to get past Sir Holden and into my room. My Royal Ward most likely thinks I’m still in my room, fast asleep.

Before I can reach the stairs, I turn to a narrow hall nearby. I don’t know what brings me here, but I get the sense that it’s familiar to me. In the dimly lit hall, my eyes catch something peculiar. A tapestry, depicting a serene forest scene, hangs slightly askew. The oddity pulls me from my fog, and I stop, frowning at the sight.

I reach out to straighten it, fingers brushing against the thick, embroidered fabric. It’s then that I notice the faint draft of cool air seeping from behind it. My curiosity piqued, I pull the tapestry aside and feel the stone. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I wouldn’t have realized there was a hidden door here. I give the stones a push, and the door hangs ajar.

A rush of memories floods back. I vaguely remember Torbin showing me this passageway when we were children, a secret corridor meant for emergencies or discreet escapes. I had forgotten about it until now. I push the door open further, revealing a narrow, dimly lit staircase ascending into darkness.

I glance back toward the hall. I don’t know how many people are aware of this passageway, but I can’t leave evidence of my night wandering. I pull the tapestry back into place, push the door closed, and turn to and feel my way through the passageway to the stairs. It dawns on me that this must be how I slipped past my Royal Ward last night. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of the dormant memories that linger in my mind and how they lead me to wander while lost in my sleep.

The passageway feels like a link to another life, a hidden thread woven into the fabric of the castle. Gripping the railing, I quietly climb the stairs, my stomach churning with unease. At the top of the stairs, the corridor forks in a couple of directions, but light filtering through cracks in the wall leads me to the right. Tentatively, I pull the hidden door open, letting out a breath of relief when I discover my room.

Exhausted from my excursion, I slip into bed, not even caring that my feet are dirty. But as my head hits the pillow, my chest tightens. This castle is full of secrets, and I need to be careful how I uncover them.

CHapter

Eighteen

The nextmorning, the breakfast table is full. As I approach, I’m in full view of the king, who examines my clothes with a frown. I didn’t feel like wearing another dress today, so I chose trousers and a white, flowy blouse.

Beside King Silas, Queen Eleanor sips tea, resplendent in her royal attire. The king, clad in regal robes of deep crimson and gold, sits with a commanding presence, his expression stern yet regal. The queen exudes grace and elegance in a gown of shimmering silver and sapphire, her expression serene yet watchful as she surveys the room. Her silver gloves shimmer as she lifts her teacup to her lips, and it’s then I realize I’ve never seen her without gloves. At first, I think it’s a statement of fashion, but when I realize that all her gowns tend to be high-necked and her skirts always reaching the floor, I come to the conclusion she is simply very modest, not wishing to show much of her skin.

As charming as it is to see the entire family gathered together in a symbol of unity, my stomach hardens when Dante locks eyes with me. There’s no telling if he’s revealed to them the little walk I took last night, but if he hasn’t yet, it doesn’t mean he won’t hold the incident over myhead.

I ignore his glare and take my seat at the table. Nadya looks between Dante and me for a moment, her eyes narrowing before she follows my lead and slides into her seat. I haven’t mentioned anything that’s happened with Dante to her, but I won’t keep it a secret from her if she asks me. Later. When no one else is around.

My attention is drawn to Prince Torbin, his golden locks glinting in the morning light. Lounging back in his chair, his weight resting on his arm, he has a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Good morning, Celeste. I trust you slept well? You look positively radiant this morning.”

I’m about to answer, when Dante cuts in. “Oh, I don’t know. She looks as if she hardly slept at all.”

I almost flinch but control my expression. “I slept just fine, thank you.”

For a split second, Dante smirks, but his eyes train on the rim of his glass as he languidly trails his finger around it.

“Don’t pay my dear brother any mind, Celeste.” Torbin lets out a quick chuckle. “He’s always in a sour mood, but mornings are particularly worse for him.”

“Sounds like any man,” Nadya mumbles. When Torbin raises a brow, she clears her throat and grabs a fruit tart.

I seize the opportunity to change the topic, steeling myself for the inevitable resistance. “Your Majesty,” I begin, addressing King Silas directly. “I wanted to discuss the refugee camps. The situation grows direr by the day, and I fear we cannot continue to ignore the problem for much longer.”

The king’s expression tightens imperceptibly, a subtle indication of his displeasure. “Celeste, it has only been two days since I’ve sent my nightfeathers. Allow the plan to work. In the meantime, I have already extended our support to your cause. Our forges have been working overtime to supply your army with weapons, and we have unified our infantry with yours. Surely, that is enough for now?”

I nod, acknowledging his efforts, but refuse to be deterred. “I am grateful for your assistance, Your Majesty. But I don’t want the refugeecrisis to fall to the wayside.”

King Axel’s brow furrows. “I understand your concerns, but the trade agreements with Mersos must be handled delicately. We cannot afford to jeopardize our economic stability.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, the lives of innocent people hang in the balance.”

The king clenches his jaw, his lips pressing into a straight slash, but before he can respond, my attention is drawn to Dante, who watches our exchange with a pointed intensity.

The queen, who has mostly remained silent up until now, sets her teacup down. There is a slight wince as she removes her fingers from the cup handle and places her hands in her lap. “Perhaps a bit of a compromise. We shall send a unit of our forces to the border to keep an eye on the situation. In the case that any refugees are spotted, our soldiers will deny them entry but will protect them from carnoraxis, should they be following them.”

The king turns his head slowly toward the queen. “Logistically, I’m not sure that would work.”

“Arrows travel far, from what I’ve seen. And it’s a better solution than doing nothing, at least until the disdain in Delasurvia settles down.” The queen only regards him for a moment before returning her focus on the food in front of her.

The king strokes his beard. “I suppose, if it pacifies the princess for the time being.”

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