Page 83 of A Dagger in the Ivy

“We can only hope they make a decision soon.” Giorgi chews their bottom lip as they shake their head.

“Here.” Mylo pulls a leather belt out of a canvas sack near his supplies on the ground. “This one’s for you.”

The belt is heavy, but it looks well made. I inspect it to find two sheaths with a long and short dagger, a leather pocket holding flint and steel, and a torch stub, as well as a wound-up rope hanging on one side. I admire it for a moment before wrapping it around my waist, making sure it doesn’t interfere with me being able to reach my sword. It’s a good addition to my gear, but it will never replace the trusty dagger my mother gifted me.

I glance at Isaac and notice he isn’t wearing the belt. “Didn’t you get one, Isaac?”

He shoots me an annoyed look and then lifts his crossbow. “Let’s just say I’m a big supporter of avoiding change.”

“Doesn’t hurt to have it, though. Just in case.” I keep my eyes on him until he understands what I want from him.

Isaac grumbles, reluctantly retrieving his belt from his leathersatchel. “Yes, Commander.”

Giorgi casts me a smirk. “Some things never change, right?”

It’s almost midnight when the beacons alight, leading us to the small town of Kermish. The muddy terrain adds to the challenge of getting to the town’s defense in time. We should have arrived punctually to fight off the carnoraxis onslaught, but fate had other plans. The floods at the Sage River poorly impacted our progress.

As we breach the edge of the forest near Kermish, the sight that meets my eyes is a brutal testament to our failure. The once-thriving town now lies in ruins, its buildings charred and crumbling, the air thick with the acrid scent of destruction.

The only thing giving me relief is finding no bodies strung up on spikes.

The high-pitched whistles reach my ears, making me wince. “They’re still here!”

We charge into town, our swords at the ready. It crosses my mind to check on Dante, who was directly behind me during our ride, but I don’t want to lose another second. I can only hope he can hold his own in battle. I dart forward on Thora, seeking out the beasts. Strewn across the town square are the twisted corpses of the unfortunate townsfolk, their lifeless bodies littering the streets. The sight of the massacre churns my stomach.

The whistles and growls grow louder, mixed with the cries for help from the Kermish people. My squad quickly dismounts and splits up, fighting off the attacks as best we can. My sword swings as I charge into the chaos of the battle that rages around me. The screams, the clashing of steel, and the whistles and guttural roars of the carnoraxis fill the air with a sickening cacophony. I manage to take down two of the beasts, and then I scan the area, trying to keep my breathing steady, searching for anyone who might need help. My heart lurches when I spot a small form huddled behind a market stall, half-hidden beneath a pile of fallencrates.

A young girl, no older than ten, lies there, her face pale with pain and fear. Blood seeps from her side through a torn section of her dress, staining the fabric dark. She must have crawled there, dragging herself to safety after the beast’s initial onslaught. The sight of her, so vulnerable and terrified, tugs at something deep inside me.

I don’t hesitate. I dart across the square, dodging the bodies and the frenzied movements of the battle, until I reach her side. Her wide, tear-filled eyes meet mine, and I force a calm, reassuring smile. “I’m here to help you,” I whisper, though the terror in her gaze says she doesn’t believe it.

She tries to shift away as I approach, but her injuries are too severe.

“It’s okay.” I press a hand gently against her shoulder to keep her still. I glance around, knowing I don’t have much time. The stall’s shattered remains offer some shelter, but it’s flimsy at best. Still, I crouch beside her, shielding her with my body as I press my hands to her bleeding wound. “I’m fae. This might feel a little strange, but it should heal you.”

She gives me a slight nod, still weeping.

Closing my eyes, I summon the fae magic within me, feeling it respond like a spark catching flame. It surges to my fingertips, warm and vibrant, ready to heal. The girl whimpers as the magic flows into her, but I hold steady, pouring everything I can into mending her torn flesh, knitting together the wounds as best as I can. My magic isn’t enough to fully close the wound, but her flesh mends under my touch, the blood flow slowing.

Before I can finish, a shadow looms over us. I look up, and my blood runs cold. A carnoraxis, its yellow eyes locked on us, its maw dripping with saliva, is mere steps away. It makes a sound between a purr and a clicking that sends an ice-cold chill through my veins. The muscles beneath its thin, grey hide coil as it prepares to leap.

My heart slams against my chest, fear twisting in my gut. There’s no time to finish the healing—no time to do anything but throw myself over the girl and brace for the inevitable. I keep my back to her and palm my dagger, trying to assess if I should hurl it at the creature’s head or slicethrough its torso.

But before I can even move, a flash of steel cuts through the air. Dante appears out of nowhere, his falchion swinging with deadly precision. The blade cleaves through the carnoraxis’s neck with a sickening crunch, sending its head spinning to the ground at my feet. Its body drops, twitching in its final moments.

My breath catches, my heart still hammering as I look up at Dante. He stands over us, his chest heaving, eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he wipes the blood from his blade. “You always find the worst places to be, don’t you, Highness?” His expression is serious, but there’s a flash of relief in his eyes.

I give him a quick nod of thanks before turning to the small girl. “Is there somewhere safe you can run to?”

She sucks in a shuddering breath as she nods, her hands holding her side.

“Wait.” I place my hand on the wound and give one last effort to heal her as much as possible before sending her off.

My hands tremble as she gets to her feet. Her wide eyes dart this way and that.

“Go,” I tell her, guiding her out from under the stall. I glance around to make sure she has a clear route before giving her a gentle push toward the direction of safety. “Run as fast as you can.”

She obliges, still too shocked to speak, dashing off into the shadows.

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