Page 19 of Love of the Bladed Dove
“I know you probably think she’s a monster,” Illyada said, not unkindly. “Okteria may have married into the title, but make no mistake—she rules in her own right. No one dares question her. She’s not cruel without cause, but she’s unflinching. A force of nature when it comes to protecting this tribe. She upholds the law because the law keeps us alive. Survival, order, loyalty—that’s what matters to her. And she’s never hesitated when hard choices had to be made.”
Layla simply blinked at her, not sure why Illyada was even telling her this. But a knowing question at been eating at her that she desperately wanted to know the answer too. “But… how is that allowed? For a woman to rule alone?” Her voice caught on the word queen, like it didn’t belong on her tongue—like it defied everything she’d ever been taught.
lllyada blinked, clearly confused by the question. “How does she not?” Layla stared. Illyada shrugged. “We bleed just the same. We fight just as hard. Sometimes harder. Don’t mistake gentleness for weakness. The queen commands because she’s earned it. Because no one leads like she does.”
Layla absorbed the words, each one unsettling something inside her. She thought of her mother—stern, cold, loyal to her king above all else. She thought of herself. Of what might’ve been, if she'd been born on the other side of the border. She let her mind continue to wander.
“And her sons?” Layla asked, voice quieter now. “What can you tell me about them?”
Illyada softened, just a touch. “Theron was raised by the late king, King Aric. Trained to follow orders without hesitation. Duty. Loyalty. Discipline. That was carved into him from the time he could walk. His father taught him that protecting the tribe comes before everything. That obedience keeps people alive. He’s deadly, yes—but never without cause. He waits for the order. Then he acts.”
Layla’s breath caught as the memory of Theron’s ferocity slammed back into her. She had seen Theron fight—twice now. Once in the forest, when Visen had assaulted her. Theron had come out of nowhere, a storm of fists and vengeance, beating Visen nearly to death. And then again at dinner, when Visen had dared to mouth off. Theron hadn’t hesitated then either. And yet, outside those violent bursts, Theron was composed. Controlled. Always standing just a little too straight, jaw clenched, voice low but sharp. Like his entire existence had been trained to obey—bound by duty, carved into discipline. Every breath he took was permissioned by something deeper: loyalty to his tribe. Orders first.Everything else second. Now, Layla saw it more clearly. That restraint wasn’t quiet. It was dangerous. And somewhere beneath her ribs, something like awe twisted—sharp and uninvited.
“So all the warriors here are like him?” she said, masking it with sarcasm. “Stoic saints with blades for hands and a moral code carved in stone?”
lllyada chuckled. “Most of them.”
Layla arched a brow. “What about the other brother, the one with the apple and the oversized ego?”
Illyada snorted. “That would be Kain.” She paused and shook her head slightly. “And believe it or not, there’s more to him than sarcasm and swagger. Though he does enjoy getting under people’s skin.”
Layla rolled her eyes and muttered, “He’s exceptional at it.”
“That he is,” Illyada said, her smirk softening. “He’s… different than Theron. Raised by the queen more so than the king. It is my opinion that she taught him how to bend rules, to read between lines instead of charging through them…. Don’t let the grin and attitude fool you—he cares more than most. And he’ll break every law we have if it means doing what’s right.” She paused, her voice dipping lower. “And he’ll smile while doing it.” The clear admiration was there in her tone as Illyada spoke of Kain. Which thoroughly confused Layla with the image of him that was already being created in her mind.
But Layla allowed this new information to shine a sliver of light on a possible different view of the repugnant man. Her thoughts drifted—unbidden—to that moment in the Circle. When everyone else had stayed still, silent. And he had stepped forward. Not with pity, not with mockery—but with quiet resolve. Offering her his daggers. His sword.Giving her the chance to fight. Still, that didn’t mean she liked him. Or trusted whatever game he was playing beneath that smug grin.
She exhaled slowly, pushing the memory aside. “He’s still vile,” she muttered, more to herself than to Illyada, and went back to work like the conversation hadn’t shaken her more than she cared to admit. Illyada burst into laughter as she turned and made her way toward the vegetable garden behind him.
Layla softly laughed in response, but the conversation vanished from her mind in an instant as she watched Illyada walk away. Her stomach flipped.Finally. A chance. Her eyes darted to the now unguarded knives along the prep table, heart pounding with sudden urgency. She carefully tracked Illyada’s steps, waiting—watching. When Illyada completely turned toward the forest’s edge to gather ripe tomatoes, Layla moved. One smooth sidestep. A quick grab. The smallest blade slipped into her palm, then disappeared into the waistband of her skirt. She turned to check if she’d been seen—And that’s when the Bartorian guard exploded from the woods.
Illyada barely dodged the first strike, stumbling back as the man’s sword tore through the air. His second swing caught her arm, slashing it open. Blood bloomed along her sleeve. Illyada reached for her sword, but the Bartorian was faster. His blade crashed against hers, sending it flying to the dirt. Layla’s heart stopped. Without thinking, she whipped the stolen knife up beside her cheek and hurled it. The blade spun through the air and struck the guard square in the eye. He dropped instantly. Illyada turned in stunned silence, her eyes wide, locking with Layla’s. Layla gave her a nod in response, right as six more Bartorian guards burst from the trees.
Illyada snatched her fallen sword and charged the nearest enemy. Layla grabbed two more knives from the table and threw them with deadly precision. One caught a man in the chest, the other in the neck. She turned to grab another blade and help Illyada finish them off. But before she could throw it, an assault of Antonin warriors rushed past, slamming into the enemy with a brutal clash of steel. In moments, it was over. The clearing was littered with dead Bartorian soldiers. Layla stood frozen, her breath coming hard, the final knife clenched in her hand. She calmed enough to quickly slip it into her waistband with a flick of her wrist before someone noticed.
“You!” A voice roared. An Antonin warrior she didn’t recognize stormed toward her, sword drawn, violence in his eyes. “This is your fault!” He raised his blade, pressing it against her throat. Before she could react, Illyada’s voice cut through the air.
“Stop! She saved me. Don’t harm her, or you deal with me.” The man instantly faltered at her words before glancing at Illyada’s bloodied arm, then back at Layla. Confusion flickered in his eyes but he reluctantly lowered his sword. Then spat at Layla’s feet before stalking away. Layla realized she’d been holding her breath and exhaled shakily.
“Come,” Illyada said, gripping her wrist and tugging her down the path. “We need to tell the queen.”
They approached a modest looking hut nestled off the main path. Layla’s eyebrows rose.This was where Queen Okteria lived?It wasn’t grand.It wasn’t guarded. It looked like every other hut in the village. Layla’s opinion of her shifted ever so slightly.Everything Illyada had said about her and now this?The queen wasn’t what she’d expected at all. The flap opened and Queen Okteria stepped out. Eyes narrowing the moment she saw Layla.
“We’ve been attacked,” Illyada said plainly.
The queen’s focus snapped to her. “Explain.”
“Seven Bartorian guards came at us by my hut. Layla killed three of them, we got the rest.” Okteria stared, clearly caught off guard. Then her gaze swept back to Layla. Suspicion. Disgust. But maybe, just maybe… curiosity.
“Are there more?”
“Not that we could see,” Illyada said. “Xaden took a small unit to sweep the perimeter. He’s waiting on orders.” The queen gave a curt nod and disappeared down the path. Layla exhaled.
“What now?” she asked.
Illyada shrugged. “Now we get back to work. If they need us for anything else, they’ll let us know.”
The quiet between Layla and Illyada became something almost sacred. Not warm, exactly—but understood. There was a mutual respect in the silence that passed between their steady hands and shared rhythm over the prep tables. Illyada had saved her in a way, and Layla had returned thefavor. The debt was even now. And maybe, just maybe…In some small way, Illyada had started to see her.
