Page 90 of A Dagger in the Ivy

King Silas lets out a long breath. “Yes. Torbin has not returned. One man in his party arrived three days ago. Torbin should have followed soon after, but there’s been no sign of him.”

“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty.” Lord Farvis, the king’s head advisor, rises from the table, his eyes boring into me. “The presence of Princess Celeste seems unnecessary in the council chambers.”

The king worries his beard, his fingers twisting the course hairs. His gaze darts between me, Dante, and Farvis. I give the king the benefit of the doubt that he doesn’t entirely agree with his advisor.

“She stays,” Dante states.

“Nonsense,” Farvis grumbles. “Guards, please remove the princess from—”

Dante spins to face them. “So much as breathe on her, and you’ll face my wrath.”

I blink in surprise. Despite myself, I can’t help but acknowledge the comfort I find in Dante’s steadfast support. Farvis, whose eyes widen in shock, gathers his robes and sits down. The guards regard Dante and step back to their stations.

King Silas shifts in his seat. Past the annoyance in his features, there’s a genuine worry behind his eyes. “I have my best men on the search. I am certain they will find him.”

“How long ago did they leave?” Dante asks.

“I sent them off yesterday morning.”

“Doesn’t he hunt in the Darkthorn Forest?” I ask, sidling up next to Dante. “That’s less than a day’s journey. Your men should have returned by now.” Dread coils in the pit of my stomach as I contemplate the implications of Torbin’s absence.

“His huntsman friend reported that they had headed farther north,” one of the advisors at the table puts in. “We ascertain it may take longer for them to track him down.”

“Is there any indication of how far north they might be?” Dante asks.

“Not at this time,” the king answers. “We can only have patience until they return.”

“Father, I disagree.” Dante takes a step forward and places his palms on the table. “We need to ensure that everything possible is being done to locate him.”

“I know the northern lands,” I put in. “I will lead a search party myself.”

The king’s gaze narrows upon me, his jaw rigid. “You will do no suchthing.”

“Your Majesty,” I reply, fighting to control my temper, “you may see me only by my title, or as a pawn to be used for your political gain, but I am also a soldier, the commander of the most skilled regiment in Terre Ferique. I assure you, no one is as skilled as I am for a search and rescue.”

The king’s expression is stern as he regards us with a scrutinizing gaze. “That may be true, but you are also the future Queen of Hedera. I cannot risk allowing the woman who will one day bear the heir of the realm to set out on a dangerous venture.”

“Without the prince, there could be no heir,” I contest.

The king leans forward on the table, his eyes steely. “You will produce an heir, as promised, even if I have to see to the task myself.”

My stomach sours at his words. I am too shocked to form words and can only stare at him in disbelief. His expression is unyielding, and I come to realize that he means it. A cold shudder runs through me at the thought.

Beside me, Dante’s hands clench into fists so tight that his knuckles whiten.

“Heed my words, Celeste.” The king’s voice is cold and commanding. “You are not to leave the castle. You sealed a pact with our kingdom, and if you defy it now, it will be seen as a slight against the crown—a challenge to my authority that I will not tolerate.”

Lord Farvis rises again. “As you can see, we have the situation under control. If we receive any news or come across an idea of how you can be of assistance, we will be sure to inform you both.”

“Father—”

“You must excuse us now, Dante.” King Silas waves a dismissive hand. “We have much to discuss.”

I want to protest, but I’m still in a state of shock. Dante puts a hand on the small of my back as he gently guides me out of the chambers.

When the doors shut, Dante and I regard each other. There is fury in his eyes that matches the boiling in my blood.

“I cannot believe this.” My hand grips the hilt of my sword. “How dare he insinuate that he would… that I would let him…”

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