Page 54 of A Dagger in the Ivy

“No, Giles. We certainly cannot.”

My dagger is in my hand before they can take another step.

At first, the two men stop short, their mouths pulling down into frowns. But then, they regard each other and burst into foul laughter.

“Who let the princess play with blades?” Peter snarls, his greying teeth showing between his curled lips.

I hold my chin up. “I’ve been playing with blades since before you learned to hold one properly.”

“Well, ain’t that cute, Peter? She thinks she can fight us off. In a dress, no less.”

“You can back away now, before this goes too far.” I release the clasp of my cape and let it fall on the ground behind me. “Or you can crawl away with whatever body parts I decide to spare you.”

“Who does this cunt think she is? Threatening us? You come here, bringing your problems, your wars, your fucking chaos! You think we have to accept you because you’re to marry the prince, but nobody wants you here, Princess.” Peter sets his jaw. “You’re a curse upon this land, and we don’t take kindly to fucking curses.”

I catch his movement and throw Torbin’s present onto my cape, simultaneously shifting my stance to defend myself against Peter’s attack.

I block his strike with a swift and practiced motion, but his hold on his weapon is fast. The skirt of my dress slows me down a little, but not enough to put me at a disadvantage against Peter’s lack of skills. The clash of metal fills the air as we exchange blows. Giles stands in a crouch, his arms out, most certainly waiting for the best opportunity to stab me without injuring his friend. I let out a grunt with each strike, fueled by desperation and determination. With a surge of strength, I manage to slice Peter’s hand, a fleeting victory amidst the chaos.

But before I can fully comprehend the situation, Giles thrusts forward, catching me by surprise. Peter regains his footing and launches at the same time. As I deflect Giles, I brace myself for the impact of Peter’s blade, but before he can make contact, a figure from my side wrestles the assailant to the ground.

For a moment, I think it’s Sir Holden who’s come to assist, but when I’m able to turn my head, my eyes widen.

Dante.

His falchion is poised threateningly at Peter’s throat as he holds him down with his foot on his chest. Giles starts toward Dante, but Dante barely glances at him. “Easy now. Let’s not do anything you might regret.”

Giles’s wide eyes dart between Dante and me. He swallows hard before turning swiftly and rushing out of the passage.

“You know that an attack on the princess is a threat against the crown.” Dante’s blade presses against the skin of Peter’s neck. “Do you know what happens to fools who fuck with the crown?”

Peter’s face reddens by the second. He’s too flustered to move, let alone answer Dante.

All I can think of is Torbin smashing Lord Alistair’s head into the ground. My throat is closing up, and I can barely breathe waiting for what atrocity will happen next.

“That’s the problem with you townspeople,” Dante continues. “You become careless. You always forget where the power lies. Well, maybe this will serve as a reminder.” With a swift flick of his wrist, Dante swipes the edge of his sword across Peter’s cheek, leaving a cut that swells with blood.

Peter lets out a yelp. As soon as Dante pulls his falchion back, Peter scrambles away from him and squirms to his feet. His hand covers his face as he runs from the alleyway.

Dante sheathes his sword, sighing as if he’d simply been finishing a pint instead of taking hostile action against a would-be killer. He turns to face me, his dark eyes piercing. “You really should watch your back, Highness. You may have more enemies than you think.”

Though I’m thankful for his intervention, I’m appalled at his bitter tone. “Why did you help me if you hate me so much?”

“A question I’m asking myself, if I’m honest.” He strolls toward the exit of the passageway so casually, I wonder if encounters like this is commonplace for him.

I grab my cape and Torbin’s gloves before I follow him. “Then why bother?”

“I promised my brother no harm would come to you.”

“This could have been your out. You could have let those men have their way with me, torture me, kill me. I’m sure Torbin wouldn’t blame you. Or if he did, I’m sure he would eventually forgive you.”

“Sounds promising. You probably shouldn’t tempt me.” He worries the inside of his cheek for a second. “That said, I have no tolerance for the senseless killing of foreigners. No one should be persecuted for simply stepping foot into another land.”

I scoff. “I thought you said I don’t belong here.”

His look makes me abandon my argument.

He’s not talking about me. He’s talking about his mother. “Oh. Yes, I agree. Of course.”

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