Page 86 of A Dagger in the Ivy

My jaw hangs open for a second before I regain the sense to close my mouth. “‘Control’?”

He rubs the space between his bottom lip and his chin. I find myself watching the movement intently.

“I will only produce an heir when I decide to.” He watches my face, waiting for me to understand.

When I finally do, I try to contain my astonishment. “All sirens can do this?”

His chuckle is low. “Yes.”

I’m silent for a moment, considering the implications of this fact. It not only means that Dante can sleep with whomever he wishes and not have to suffer any consequences of an accidental pregnancy, but it also means that his mothermeantto become with child when she slept with King Silas. It makes me wonder about her motivation. Was she in love with him? Did she want to produce a possible heir to the throne? There are so many questions circling my mind, but I won’t dareto voice them to Dante.

“Commander!”

I turn at the sound of Giorgi’s voice. Their horse kicks up snow as they race toward us. My senses perk up. The pounding of the horse’s hooves matches the beating of my heart.

I run toward them to shorten the distance between us. “What is it?”

“A boat!” Giorgi pants between words. “Flipped over at sea. The people were thrown into the raging water. Mylo’s gone in after them.”

“Okay, let’s go.” I call out toward the lake, “Aila, find Isaac! We’ve got a rescue.”

Dante places a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll get the horses.”

We move quickly, but every minute feels too long. Giorgi leads us toward the shore of the Batu Basah Ocean, which lies between Delasurvia and Dulcamar.

I push Thora harder, her hooves pounding against the rocky path as we race toward the shoreline. The distant cries of the stranded refugees reach my ears, spurring me forward. When I crest the hill overlooking the beach, my breath catches in my throat at the sight below.

The capsized boat bobs helplessly in the turbulent waves, its hull jutting out of the water like a dark, ominous beast. Figures cling desperately to the overturned vessel, their faces twisted with fear and exhaustion. The sea is unforgiving, each wave threatening to rip them away from their tenuous hold.

Two forms lie on the sand, their bodies contorted as they cough seawater from their lungs. Giorgi practically jumps through the air from their horse to tend to them.

Mylo must have dragged them to the shore and is already back in the water, his powerful strokes cutting through the waves as he swims toward a terrified mother clutching her child. His movements are swift and sure, as though he’s done this a thousand times before. I watch as he reaches them, his strong arms wrapping around both the woman and the child, pulling them close. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t falter—only the raw determination on his face betrays the severity of the situation.

I dismount in a hurry, my heart racing, and sprint down to thebeach. Mylo carries the pair through the churning water, battling against the current that seeks to snatch them back out to sea. He’s already soaked through, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, but he doesn’t stop. With a final surge of strength, he pushes the woman and child toward the shore, where Giorgi and Aila are waiting to pull them to safety.

As Mylo turns back for more, I quickly shed any excess weight, stripping myself of my gear. The cries of distress from the refugees spur me into action, driving me forward with determination as I plunge into the cool waters of the sea.

The icy embrace of the water shocks my senses, but I push through, propelled by the urgency of the situation. The sheer power of the waves threatens to overwhelm me, but I refuse to let fear take hold. These people need us. And I won’t let them down.

With powerful strokes, I navigate through the waves, my muscles straining against the resistance of the water as I make my way toward the struggling figures.

A dark form just under the surface of the water rushes past me. At first, I think it’s a shark or a dolphin, but when a head comes up for a quick breath of air, I see that it’s Dante. I’ve heard sirens are fast swimmers, but I had no idea they could bethatfast.

The refugees flail in the water, their panicked cries ringing out over the lake. Dante reaches an elderly man and takes hold of him. He’s practically back at the shore before I even reach the boat. With each stroke, I draw closer, my heart pounding in my chest as I reach out to grasp one of them, pulling them toward safety with all the strength I possess.

With each passing moment, the tension mounts, the urgency of the situation driving us forward as we battle against the currents to reach those in need.

Once we’ve gotten everyone on shore, I scan the area to assess my team. Our breaths come in ragged gasps as we collapse on the sandy beach, the adrenaline of the rescue coursing through our veins. Isaac has already begun examining the people to make sure they are breathing properly and weren’t injured.

Breathless and drenched from head to toe, I turn to Dante with a grateful nod.

Dante’s gaze meets mine, his expression unreadable for a moment before he returns the nod, a hint of warmth in his eyes that makes my heart skip a beat.

We bring the refugees to the nearest camp, carrying most of them on horseback while we walk alongside them. Except for the elderly man, the men of the group walk. Aside from expressing their thanks, they do not speak at all. I can tell from their accents and the way they whisper to each other in Dulcamaran, they do not speak much of the common language.

It angers me that the people who long to escape the hold of the Shadow Tsar must make desperate, dangerous decisions, when I know we could help them find sanctuary. The riches from the Land of Ivy can’t stop the carnoraxis attacks from happening, but they could help with this. If the people in power in Mersos could see how frightened and desolate these refugees are, they would surely be compassionate enough to allow them to cross the border without cutting off supplies to Delasurvia.

By the time we reach the refugee camp, the ache in my legs is like spears in my calves. I can barely feel my feet, but I don’t complain. It’s nothing compared to what these people went through.

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