Page 41 of Love of the Bladed Dove
They approached under cover of night, dismounting behind the stables. The horses were quiet, perhaps too exhausted to even protest anymore. The plan was swift and silent—neutralize the guards, secure the manor. Theron moved into position beside Xaden at the door, sword drawn but hidden. Xaden knocked and an older maid answered.
In a blink, Xaden yanked her outside before pinning her against the stone wall. “Scream and you die,” he whispered, blade at her neck. Terrified, the woman stuttered out that only she and a few other handmaids remained inside. The guards were at the castle for a celebration. Sir Norsden was gone, the noble of the household.
Theron stepped from the dim alcove and signaled for the others to approach. Layla led them inside with calculated authority. Her guards fanned out, clearing the manor room by room while the rest of the maids cowered together by the kitchen. Theron watched Layla approach them, drenched but radiant. Her voice was calm, reassuring.
“We don’t want to hurt you. We only need shelter for the night and a small meal. If you can give us that, we’ll leave peacefully come morning.” The maids nodded, eyes wide, then hurried to the kitchen.
One lingered. “I can show you some rooms, ma’am,” she whispered, eyes on the floor. Layla nodded once, regal as ever. Theron exhaled, tension slowly draining from his shoulders. For tonight, at least, they were safe. But as he watched Layla disappear up the stairs, flanked bySparrow and Kain, his heart stayed heavy. She was just within reach yet still felt a thousand miles away…And he had no one to blame but himself.
Layla.
Layla thanked the petite red-headed maid, who looked barely younger than herself, and followed her up the creaking staircase. A few of the Graystonian guards remained downstairs with Xaden and Theron. While Sparrow, Kain, and a couple more soldiers accompanied her. The maid moved quietly, almost timidly, down the hallway, opening room after lavish room, clear signs of a wealthy Bartorian lord. Velvet curtains. Intricate rugs. Chandeliers that swayed gently from the vibrations of thunder outside. At last, they reached the largest chamber, the Lord’s own quarters. It had its own fireplace and was nearly double the size of the others. Sparrow stood at the door, his broad form blocking the threshold as Layla stepped inside with the maid.
“Would you like me to start a fire?” the girl asked without meeting Layla’s eyes. Layla couldn’t help but notice the way she stood—small, cautious, as if waiting for permission to breathe.Was she this scared of her, or was this submissiveness bred into her by a cruel lord?
“No. Thank you. I can manage.” Layla offered a polite smile. “Where can I find dry clothes?”
The maid stepped toward two separate dressers and motioned, still avoiding her gaze. “Nightgowns here, daywear in this one.”
“Thank you. That will be all.” Layla nodded. The girl bowed quickly and exited. Sparrow gave Layla a subtle nod before shutting the door behind him, granting her a much-needed moment of solitude.
The stillness instantly pressed in, wrapping around her like a heavy cloak. She leaned against the carved bedpost and exhaled slowly. The ache in her muscles flared now that she’d stopped moving. Her damp gown clung to her skin, making her shiver. She knelt at the hearth and began stacking the wood. Her hands moved by memory, striking flint until the first flickers of flame caught. She cupped her palms around the growing fire, letting the warmth seep in. Finally, something familiar. Something she could control.
When the chill left her fingers, she stood and moved to the dresser the maid had indicated. She rifled through the fine linens and silks, finally settling on a soft nightdress that reminded her of one she had back home. The sight of it tugged at her chest. She would be back there soon. Things would be normal again.Wouldn’t they?She sighed and reached for the ties of her dress.
“Would you like some help with that?”
Layla jumped and whipped around instinctively. Kain was leaning against the doorframe, his signature grin flickering with mischief in the firelight. She hadn’t even heard the door open. Rolling her eyes, she laughed under her breath. Her arms fell loosely to her sides. “Gods, you really have no sense of timing.”
“Depends on what we’re timing,” Kain said smoothly, stepping inside as he unfastened his soaked leather vest. “Any dry clothes in there for me, or are you keeping them all to yourself?”
She narrowed her eyes playfully, tilting her head. “Why do I feel like that question’s not entirely innocent?” Kain gave her an exaggeratedly innocent look and then shook out his wet hair like a wolf, spraying droplets across the room. “Kain! Stop that!” Layla shrieked, shielding herface with her hands. Laughter spilled between them like it belonged, easy and real. He grinned, completely unbothered, as he approached.
“I’m freezing, Little Dove. My boys are trying to hibernate somewhere in my ribcage. Help a man out.”
Layla blinked. “Your—what?” Her eyes dropped before she could stop herself. His smirk widened. Shit.She spun back to the dresser. “Let me just, um, look for something in here for you.” She tried to sound casual, tried to control the warmth rising to her face. But then she felt him behind her. His breath ghosted along her neck and she froze. The heat of it licked over her skin, raising goosebumps down the lengths of her arms.
“I need something dry, Dove,” he whispered against her ear. “Don’t want your soldiers getting jealous.”Jealous?Confused, she turned sharply and froze. Kain stood right before her now fully naked. A breath caught in her throat. Her eyes dragged over him before she could stop herself—from his wet golden hair to his dangerously carved and inked torso…and lower… much lower.Gods. She spun around so fast she nearly knocked over a vase.
“Kain! What the hell!?” She screeched. He laughed, low and unrepentant. She fumbled for a nightshirt and tossed it at him, smacking him in the chest. “Put some clothes on, damn it!” she snapped, her voice cracking somewhere between scandalized and breathless.
The sound of a throat clearing at the door, startled her even more. Layla turned and to her horror, Theron stood there. His expression unreadable. His gaze fixed on her with the sharpness of a drawn blade, unblinking and unrelenting.
Kain, unbothered, strode over and held up the shirt like a peace offering. “Need one too, brother?” Theron didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Only clenched his jaw tighter. His eyes burned through Layla. Kain just chuckled and strolled out, still entirely too naked. Layla couldn’t speak. She couldn’t explain it. The hurt in Theron’s gaze gutted her. She crossed the room and dropped onto the bed like her body no longer belonged to her.
“I just wanted to check on you…” Theron said quietly, stepping farther into the room. Layla couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. “The men today… they died protecting you. Protecting your family. They died as heroes, if they…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “If they even did die.”
But his words didn’t soothe the ache in her chest. Didn’t change the truth that it had been her mission. Her command. Her burden. Her father’s voice echoed in her memory—To rule is to carry the weight of others’ choices… and their deaths.
She rose to her feet. She had grieved enough for now. Her soldiers needed her. Her people needed her. Her sisters needed her. She would not cower behind stone walls and let sorrow consume her. Not when there was still work to be done. But as she moved toward the door, Theron stepped into her path, lifting a hand to stop her.
“You’re dripping water. You’ll catch a fever before you save anyone. Change first. Then plan.” His voice was steady. Firm but gentle. Layla’s defenses cracked just slightly and she reluctantly nodded. He let his hand fall, the tips of his fingers grazing her arm. She tensed at the contact, at how good it felt. He gave her a brief nod and walked out, closing the door behind him.
She stood there, stunned by her own swirling feelings. Then, slowly, she peeled off her wet gown, wrung it out, and hung it near the fire before slipping into the soft blue nightdress. She felt like neither warrior nor princess right now. But feelings were a luxury she could no longer afford. Her sisters needed her—and she would become whatever they needed to be saved.
Layla descended the stairs and paused at the bottom. Nearly all the men were in nightshirts, most of them far too short or frilled for comfort. Their weapons lay awkwardly on laps or beside chairs as they tried to look fierce in this ridiculous attire. She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Then the far door flew open.
Kain burst into the hall wearing the most ridiculous women’s nightgown she had ever seen—lace, ruffles, and all. His eyes found hers immediately. Furious. Mortified. She couldn’t stop herself. Laughter exploded from her lips.
