Page 40 of Love of the Bladed Dove
She woke stiff and sore, her body already aching from the ride. The fire had reduced to embers. As she stretched, she noticed someone sleeping beside her. Not Sparrow. Her heart sank.Theron.
With a loud, exasperated groan, she rolled onto her back and sat up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Theron stir and stretch beside her, his presence as aggravating as it was familiar.Great. She rose to her feet, brushing the dirt from her clothes. She needed to relieve herself—and clear her head. She turned toward the trees. Of course, she heard him following.
She spun to face him. “What are you doing?”
He stopped, towering a few feet away. “Where are you going?”
“I’m not your concern. Go away,” she hissed, trying not to wake the others.
“You’ll always be my concern, Layla.” His voice was low. Steady. Too damn calm. And his eyes, —those traitorous blue eyes, held that same look he’d given her in the hut. When he’d held her after she broke. When he’d kissed her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
Her shoulders slumped. The resentment ebbed, if only slightly. “I have to pee, Theron. Just… go.”
He didn’t move. Just turned around, crossed his arms, and stood guard. Of course he did. Layla ducked behind a tree, shaking her head. He made it so damn hard to keep hating him. And that was the most infuriating part of all.
Chapter nineteen
Theron.
Asharp twist of something unspoken knotted in Theron’s chest as he watched Kain lean in to help Layla onto her horse. The easy way she smiled at his jokes. The light touch of her fingers on his shoulder. The effortless laughter between them, like they’d known each other forever. It caused him more anguish than he wanted to admit.
All his life, Theron had been the son who did everything right. He had shaped himself into the embodiment of the ideal warrior—unquestioning, unbreakable. The kind of leader others would follow without hesitation. Whereas Kain had always been a wild card, good in a fight but impulsive and selfish. Reckless, even.But now?Now Layla smiled for him. She leaned into him.Trusted him… And for the first time, Theron couldn't help but wonder if Kain was the better man.
He tore his eyes away, fists clenched, and walked to his horse that was currently still tethered beside Xaden’s. The usually chipper warrior was halfway into his saddle, muttering curses through gritted teeth as he adjusted his balance.
“For the love of all the gods,” Xaden grumbled, pulling himself up with the grace of a wounded bear. “If I fall and break my neck, tell everyone it was in a blaze of glory. A duel. Something dramatic. Not death by horse.”
Despite everything, Theron huffed a small breath of amusement. “A bear is no longer sufficient?”
Xaden shot him a sideways glare but grinned as he steadied in the saddle. “Just make sure it’s badass okay.”
The clouds above rumbled, then broke open, spilling torrents of rain that drenched them within seconds. Visibility dropped, and the road dissolved into a river of mud, but no one slowed. They couldn’t afford to. Over half the day passed and the rain never let up, but still they trudged on. Theron never taking his eyes off Layla’s dark green cloak. Watching for any faulter in her horses steps. Thankfully it never came.
Lightning split the sky as they reached the Thornveil Run river that bordered Bartoria. On a dry day, the current was treacherous. Now, it was a churning monster. They had no choice but to attempt the crossing. Theron’s gut twisted. He didn’t fear death, nor for himself.But Layla?One misstep, one slip under those waters, and she’d be gone. He kicked his horse forward, placing himself close behind her. The cold water surged up the legs of his mount, rising fast. Just up ahead, he stared down that green cloak. His anchor in the chaos.
The front line of Graystonian soldiers had just made it to the midpoint when the river lunged. A wall of water surged down from upstream, a muddy wave that crashed into the men and horses without mercy. Screams cut through the storm as steel clanged and hooves flailed. Theron saw a horse flip sideways, the soldier atop it vanishing beneath the current. Panic erupted.
“Layla!” he roared, but she was already reacting.
“We must go on!” she shouted, voice like thunder. “Go now before it gets worse!” Gods, she was fearless. Her voice viciously sliced through the roar of the river. Even now—drenched, shivering, and death lurking beneath the torrent—she led them. Theron pressed closer, his horse nearly nose-to-tail with hers. The current was a beast clawing at their legs, dragging debris from the woods into the water around them. But they kept moving.
One agonizing moment at a time, they made it across. By the time the survivors reached the far bank, Theron’s legs were numb from cold and tension. He spun in his saddle, counting. Eight Graystonian soldiers were missing. Swallowed by the river. Just...gone.He saw it on Layla’s face, the weight of it. But she didn’t crumble, didn’t falter. And by the gods, he knew her well enough now to recognize the cracks in her armor. She blamed herself. Theron ached to go to her. To offer warmth, comfort, something.Anything.But she stood tall, even soaked and brokenhearted, and issued orders with a voice that didn’t waver.
“Run the shoreline!”
Without delay, they scattered, hunting for signs of the missing men. Theron and Kain moved faster than most, their Antonin training making them ghosts in the storm. But it was no use. The river hadtaken what it wanted. Eventually, all returned, sadly empty-handed. And Layla, standing in the middle of it all, looked smaller somehow. Not weaker—just... more alone.
They kept moving, pressing forward through mud, wind and blistering rain. Theron rode beside her, just close enough to be near if she needed him but just far enough to give her space. However, it was getting dark and they needed shelter. Time out of the negative elements to plan and regroup.
As if the gods themselves offered a reprieve, a manor emerged in the distance, stone walls barely visible through the rain.
Layla turned in her saddle, commanding attention like a born queen. “Sir Edwin. How do you recommend we proceed?”
We could sneak around it through the forest,” Edwin offered, “but the terrain may be too dense—and with the weather turning, it’ll be even harder off the main path. If it is, we may have to leave the horses.
“Or,” Kain said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm, “we knock on the door, kill the noble inside, and warm ourselves by the fire…Just a thought.”
Layla shot him a dry glare, then seemed to weigh his words before she gave her final order. “We’ll take the manor. Kill any Bartorian soldiers or nobles. Spare the handmaids. They are not our enemy.” Theron swallowed a grin. Even after hours in a storm, soaked to the bone, she was sharp, decisive. Gods, she was continually surprising him.
