Page 84 of A Dagger in the Ivy

I turn back to Dante, who’s already scanning the battlefield for the next threat. “The glory of being a soldier,” I mutter.

He smirks, not taking his eyes off the fray. “Still undecided about the company, though.”

I stand, gripping my sword tightly as I prepare to plunge back into the fight beside him.

CHapter

Thirty

The night is short. We manage to get a few hours of sleep, camping out under the stars about a hundred miles north of Kermish. Exhaustion from the battle helps us to drift off, but the guilt of not being able to save everyone makes our sleep restless.

Though we eventually slaughtered the carnoraxis, I would not call last night a victory. The town leaders reported that a couple of their riders went missing, never reaching the beacon masters. And more than a handful of citizens perished at the hands of the beasts.

At least I saved that little girl. Her survival is a small beam of light in the darkness of the onslaught. And I respect the people of Kermish for standing together and not stringing up their third-born fae as a sacrifice to the creatures of the Shadow Tsar.

When we gather for a small meal before heading farther north, I’m pleasantly surprised to see Dante join us. Even though we fought off the enemy together, he’d made it clear that we shouldn’t presume to know where his loyalties lie. Maybe we’ve chipped away at his wall of stubbornness a bit.

Though most of the meal is spent in reflective silence,we manage to finalize our plans to head to the border between Delasurvia and Dulcamar. I’m curious to see if the Hederan kingsguard are patrolling the border or if the Copperhammers were full of shit.

Our journey north brings biting winds and frost-covered foliage. The crisp air helps to keep me alert on such little sleep. I make sure to pay attention to Mylo, who kept watch all night and is surely running low on energy.

After a few hours, Giorgi, who rides ahead of us, leads us to a lake to rest.

“We’re near the border,” they say. “But we should water the horses here. The sources more north may be nothing but ice.”

As we pause near the tranquil lake, its pristine waters reflect the azure sky above like a mirror, capturing the serene beauty of the surrounding landscape. Tall, elegant trees line the banks, their spindly branches gently swaying in the breeze, casting lines of shadows across the snow.

The cool air is filled with the melodious symphony of nature: the soft rustle of leaves, the gentle lapping of the water against the shore, and the distant chirping of birds perched among the branches. The sun hangs high in the sky, casting its warm rays down upon the freezing earth, infusing the air with a pleasant, golden glow.

In the distance, majestic mountains rise up, their snow-capped peaks spearing the heavens. The serene beauty of the landscape instills a sense of peace and tranquility, a welcome respite from the rigors of our journey.

My gaze lands on Dante, who’s tending to his horse with practiced ease. His movements are fluid and graceful, a testament to his skill as a rider. He removes his jacket, and I can’t help but admire the way his muscles ripple beneath the fabric of his shirt, sculpted and defined from years of training and discipline. The sun catches the angles of his face, highlighting the rugged contours of his jawline. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes as he concentrates on the task at hand, a sense of purpose that resonates with the strength of his character.

I find myself captivated by the sight of him, drawn in by theeffortless confidence that seems to radiate from every pore. Despite the gravity of our situation, there’s a fleeting moment of respite in his presence.

But as our eyes meet, I feel a flutter of unease stir in the pit of my stomach. It’s a strange sensation, one that I can’t quite explain, as if the very air around us has shifted, charged with an energy that crackles and sparks with the intensity of our shared gaze.

I quickly avert my eyes, chiding myself for such foolish thoughts. There’s no room for distractions in our mission. Besides, I’m engaged to his brother. Arranged marriage or not, I should honor my promise. If not for the union itself, then for what it means for Delasurvia.

I turn fully away from him and approach Aila, who’s scraping hardened mud off her boot soles.

“Where’s Mylo?” I ask when I don’t spot him.

“He’s scouting with Giorgi.” She looks over her shoulder. “And I think Isaac is looking for a place to empty his bladder.”

“Did you get any rest?”

“Enough, I guess.” She hits her boot against a large rock to knock the excess mud loose. “What about you?”

“A few hours, I think.”

“Hard to sleep with someone staring at you all night, huh?”

“What?”

She stands, biting back a smile. “What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing.” I let out a humorless laugh. “What makes you ask that? I’m… I’m engaged to his brother, and his brother asked him to look out for me.”

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