Page 51 of Love of the Bladed Dove
Thank the gods, Ciana was now staring at them, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. Layla pressed a finger to her lips. Ciana closed her mouth, sitting straighter. Alert now. Theron exhaled and pulled Layla off the floor towards where Kain was waiting.
“Washroom?” Layla mouthed toward her sister. Ciana subtly shook her head, barely perceptible.Damn.Layla turned to him and Kain, searching for another way. Another idea. Theron’s mind raced.
“Dance,” he said. “See if she can get up and dance.”
Layla nodded and turned back. “Dance?” she mouthed. Ciana gave the faintest shrug.Maybe.Maybe was hope. They had hope. Theron exhaled sharply, the tightness in his chest easing just enough to function again. He gently pulled Layla off the floor, guiding her back toward where Kain waited. Now, all they could do was wait—anxiously, breath held—for Ciana to make her move. She would have to ask Ivar for permission to dance. And they had to pray he’d say yes.
As they waited, Layla glanced between the two brothers, needing a break from the panic chewing at her nerves. “Okay,” she whispered, breathless, “but seriously—how do you two know these dances? And not just know them, but actually pull them off without looking like idiots?”
Kain smirked. “Wedding rituals.”
“Wedding—what?”
“Our ceremonies,” Theron muttered, not quite looking at her. “They have traditional dances. All of them do.”
Layla blinked at him. “You’re telling me that Antonin wedding ceremonies involve ballroom choreography?”
Kain rolled his eyes. “It’s not ballroom, Dove. We don’t exactly have marble floors and gilded ceilings. Try packed dirt and a drunken choir of uncles shouting in the wrong key.”
“And who,” she asked suspiciously, “taught you charming savages to waltz like nobles?” Both warriors grimaced at the same time.
Kain muttered, “Illyada.”
Layla blinked. “Illyada?”
“She said,” Theron gritted out, “‘No son of a king will be caught bumbling around like a donkey with two broken legs.’”
“Once we were of age to participate, she made us practice for weeks,” Kain added dryly. “With her barking orders, whacking our ankles with a stick if we missed a step. Zero mercy.” Layla burst out laughing, the sound breathless and brief but real. “So let me get this straight. You two learned to dance... from a terrifying tribal warrior woman... in the dirt... for weddings?”
“Exactly,” Kain said, completely straight-faced. “Romantic as hell.” Theron only grunted. And for a fleeting moment, the weight in her chest loosened.
King Ivar finally returned to Ciana’s side, laughing loudly with his nobles. His wine glass nearly empty once again. They watched as Ciana casually leaned in. The King looked irritated at first, then gave a bark of laughter and rolled his eyes. He promptly stood and they watched as Ciana followed suit. The guards stepped forward, but he waved them off and escorted her to the dance floor himself.
Theron’s hands curled into fists.Now what?He knew Layla was about to suggest they go out next, but Kain stepped in.
“I’ve got this,” he said, already moving toward her. Theron met his eyes, he saw something darker than mischief there. Something resolved.So he nodded tightly and stepped back. He watched as Kain led Layla out to the center of the dance floor. They danced fluidly, casually. Theron tensely stared after them. When the song ended, Kain led Layla straight toward the King and Ciana. Theron’s heart leapt into his throat.What the fuck is he doing?!Theron began blindly charging out into the dance floor. He had no plan other than to get Layla the hell away from that king.
He saw Ivar’s eyes narrow as he turned towards whomever was interrupting his dance with Ciana, until they landed on Layla. Then they sparkled with desire. Theron’s fists clenched as he was attempting to navigate the crowd to get to them. Ivar stepped forward, smirking then dismissing Kain before quickly pulling Layla against him as they danced away. Kain bowed smoothly to Ciana and began dancing with her instead. Kain saw the anger, the force of nature Theron had just become nearing them and subtly held up his hand behind Ciana, indicating for Theron to stop.To wait. Theron immediately slowed to a stop. Anger radiating from him. Theron could hardly breathe. His pulse thundered as he watched Ivar touch Layla’s waist, his hand sliding lower, whispering who-knows-what in her ear. She wore a mask of flirtation, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Rage surged beneath his skin, barely leashed. But he held his position, watching every step, every expression. When the dance ended, the King released Layla with a kiss to her hand before swaggering back to the table. Kain was quickly at her side before wordlessly leading Layla back towards where Theron now waited.
“Are you okay?” Theron asked immediately, his voice low and tight.
She waved him off, eyes focused on Kain. “Kain—what did shesay?”
“She’s fine,” Kain assured them. “No one’s hurt her, just…” He paused, jaw tightening. “Just public humiliation, threats towards Aerilynn to keep her in line. She’s staying in a room across from the King’s. No weapons, no furniture—just a bed. They’ve stripped it bare so she can’t defend herself or cause any trouble.” Theron’s blood ran cold at this admission.
He looked between Layla and Kain. “That means it’s extremely well guarded. And once they realize Aerilynn’s missing…”
“They’ll seal the castle,” Kain finished grimly.
Theron’s thoughts swirled. They were running out of time. Running out of options. And Layla was still here. He looked at her—really looked. Pale. Angry. Yet beautiful and resolute. His chest constricted with a tight ache he couldn’t breathe past.
He reached for her shoulders gently. “Layla…” She stiffened at his tone and he swallowed hard. “You should leave. Go with Kain and Sir Edwin now. I’ll stay. I’ll get Ciana out.”
Her eyes snapped to his, full of fire and hurt. “Absolutely not.”
“Layla—”
“No!” she hissed. “I am not leaving my sister behind. I don’t care what happens to me. You can’t force me to run away.” He closed his eyes, pained. He’d known she’d say that. Still, it gutted him.
