Page 20 of Love of the Bladed Dove
The mid-afternoon sun slanted down through the tree canopy, filtering dappled gold over the mess of bloodied feathers and animal hides. Layla worked without complaint, her hands sure and practiced now. Every time her fingers brushed another knife, she remembered the one hidden in her waistband. A cold weight against her hip. Her escape. Her guilt.
She shouldn’t feel guilty. But she did. Even after killing three Bartorian guards, her enemies, there was a tight ache in her chest. Not regret. Not fear. Just the stark realization that every time she wielded a weapon now, it meant something irreversible. It meant someone didn’t get to go home. Didn’t get to live. She supposed that’s what made her different from the Antonin. They wielded death like it was another tool on their belt. She wielded it like a last resort.
Illyada, sensing her mood perhaps, finally broke the quiet. “You think too much.”
Layla blinked, glancing over. “Excuse me?”
Illyada didn't look up. “When you kill, you hesitate. I can see it. You’re not soft, but your heart still makes noise. One day, that will get you killed… or save you. Not sure which.”
Layla frowned. “I don’t want to become numb to it. To killing.”
Illyada paused her knife mid-slice and finally met Layla’s gaze. “Then don’t. But be fast enough that it’s them who bleed, not you.”
Layla stared at her for a moment before nodding. “Fair enough.” The conversation ended as quickly as it had begun. But the moment lingered, threaded into something that might one day resemble trust.
Not long after, Xaden sauntered over, dirt-smudged and grinning, clearly just returned from the forest perimeter.
“Well, well,” he drawled, throwing an apple up and down in one hand. “Look who’s still alive. Thought for sure you’d die this time.”
"The gods can’t seem to agree on how I should go,” she said, washing her hands in the bowl nearby. “Guess you all are stuck with me until they decide.”
Xaden chuckled and leaned one elbow on the prep table, clearly watching her. “So... what’s the deal, Princess? You planning to assassinate us one by one with those dainty little knives? Those throws were wicked.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she replied coolly, finally glancing at him with a mock-sweet smile. “Don’t worry, I saved your death for last. You seem like the type to make it long and dramatic.”
Xaden laughed loudly at that. “Damn. You’re almost Antonin already.”
“Careful,” Illyada muttered without looking up, “I might start liking her.” Layla’s lips twitched in a faint smile. Despite everything, despite the blood on her hands, the knife in her waistband, the constant ache of worry for her family, she wasn’t entirely alone here. Somehow, amid the gutting tables and wary glares, she had carved out the tiniest space of acceptance. Not safety. Never that. But maybe something close to survival. She’d take it. For now. Because tonight, she would escape. She would find her family. And nothing, not kindness, not camaraderie, noteven the flicker of warmth she felt when Theron looked at her like she was more than a pawn, would stop her. But still, part of her whispered:You don’t have to hate them all to save your own.
Chapter eleven
Theron.
Theron was deep in training, demonstrating hand-to-hand combat techniques to a group of young warriors, when Queen Okteria approached. The moment he caught the tension in her expression, his body stilled. Something was wrong. He stepped away from the circle, wiping sweat from his brow as he met her gaze.
"The Bartorians attacked. Our people are safe," she said curtly.
His shoulders straightened, muscles going rigid. "Where?"
"Near Illyada's hut. Only seven of them. All dead. There may be more hiding in the woods."Illyada's hut.His stomach dropped.Layla.He clenched his fists to keep from bolting. Okteria saidourpeople were fine.Did she mean Layla too?He wouldn't dare ask. Not in front of her.
"You need to sweep the woods. Take a team, scout, and report back. Whether they came for her or not, they crossed into our home. I won’t tolerate it. Kain will return soon with more information, but until then, we act." Theron nodded. Orders were orders. Even when every nerve in his body screamed to go to Layla. He turned and moved swiftly through the village, selecting his most capable men with practiced efficiency.
At Sparrow's hut, he leaned in. The warrior was asleep but snapped upright the moment Theron entered. "Find Layla. Stay with her," Theron ordered. Without a word, Sparrow was up and out of his hut, heading in the opposite direction. Theron let out a breath. At least she wouldn’t be alone…If she was alive that is.
Theron led a group of eight seasoned Antonin warriors to the forest’s edge. In silence, they covered their faces and arms in mud for camouflage. Theron marked his face with three thick streaks, melting into darkness without effort. His ink-covered skin cloaked his form, turning him into a wraith among the trees. They spread into a wide formation, keeping twenty feet of distance between each man, and advanced southeast, toward Graystonia.
Hours passed. The forest pressed in around them, thick with silence and tension, but no more Bartorians appeared. Finally, Theron signaled the return. It was nearly midnight when they stepped back into the torch-lit village.
He found Queen Okteria near a small fire, warriors clustered around her in quiet conversation. She turned as he approached.
"We swept to the territory line and back," he reported. "No signs of more enemies. Kain might be facing resistance, though."
"He’ll manage," she replied, already turning her focus back to the flames, no doubt plotting her next move. Theron held back a frown. Kain was capable, yes, but unpredictable. Chaos seemed woven into his footsteps, as if it was born to follow him.
"Get some sleep," Okteria said, waving him off. "We’ll wait for Kain’s report."
Theron didn’t need to be told twice. His feet carried him swiftly toward his hut, weaving through fires and warriors still abuzz with the night’s events. Tankards clanked. Stories grew wilder. He passed Sparrow leaning against his hut, watching the tree line with silent vigilance. Theron gave him a nod and stepped inside.
