Page 53 of Love of the Bladed Dove
Two guards crossed the ballroom and flanked Ciana. Layla's breath caught as her sister cast a fleeting glance in her direction. She gave the smallest nod. Layla returned it, her eyes wide with silent promise.We’re coming.
As Ciana disappeared through the grand doors, Layla gripped the edge of the table. Almost time. Every muscle in her body was tense, ready to snap. Theron reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She looked up at him, heart heavy. So much had passed between them in so little time. She didn’t know what they were anymore, what they ever even were. But this wasn’t the time.
"Layla..." Theron began, voice low, burdened with too much unsaid.
She stopped him gently, she could see it etched throughout his face. "You don’t have to apologize again. I understand." His mouth parted, as if to argue, but the words caught—lodging behind clenched teeth and regret. "No, really. You did what your queen commanded. I should’ve never asked you to disobey. You barely knew me, and I expected you to choose me. That wasn’t fair."
“It was fair, Layla,” he said, voice rough, laced with desperation and confusion. “Hurting you… it’s the last thing I ever want to do.”
Her heart twisted. She reached up and rested a hand over his chest, grounding them both with the simple, steady pressure.
“I know,” she whispered. “I believe you.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, arms wrapping around her in a reluctant, almost breaking embrace. She held on tightly—because she knew what was coming. Knew what she was about to do… and that if it went wrong, it would break him. Then, at the edge of the ballroom, a flicker. Smoke.
Layla stepped back just as Theron’s head snapped toward the commotion. A cluster of guards rushed to stamp out a small fire—Sir Edwin’s signal. It worked. Theron’s attention shifted, even if only for a heartbeat. That was all she needed. The distraction had begun.
In one fluid motion, Layla turned and slipped away to the same side doors Ciana had disappeared behind. Her pulse thundered in her ears, nerves crackling like a live wire beneath her skin. There was no room for second thoughts. Only forward.
As Layla neared the doors, a guard stepped in her path.. "Turn around. You’re not permitted here."
Mustering every ounce of false bravado, Layla slipped into the role she knew the king would underestimate—a ditsy, forgettable girl with wide eyes and no spine. She blinked up at the guard, twirling a strand of hair with exaggerated bashfulness.
“Oh… but the King requested I meet him,” she said sweetly, leaning in like she was sharing some scandalous gossip. “You know… tonight.”
The guard stared, unimpressed. She dropped her gaze demurely, voice softening to a whisper. “He… requested I meet him in his chambers.”
That did it. The guard grunted, muttered a curse, and signaled his partner. The doors creaked open. One of them fell in stepbehind her, escorting her up the staircase in silence. She didn’t dare glance back. If Theron had seen her… it was already too late.
They reached the top, a long corridor with ornate doors stretching in either direction. Her escort stopped before two massive double doors.The King’s chambers.Across the hall, another door.Ciana’s. Layla locked that location into her mind, then turned back just as the guard opened the royal doors and gestured her inside. She expected him to turn and leave, but he didn’t. Instead, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Layla’s stomach dropped as panic surged, but she forced a smile and strode farther into the room as she tried to figure out what to do. She racked her brain, then her eyes landed on his sword. A quick and bad plan, but a plan none the less developed.
“Oh wow!” She said suddenly, her voice high and sweet. “That’s a beautiful sword! May I see it?” The guard frowned, lifting a hand to stop her.Too late.Layla lunged, one hand grabbing his wrist, the other driving her hidden dagger into his throat. He gurgled violently, clutching at the hilt, but the blade was deep and sure. He dropped to his knees, blood spraying down his chest, and crumpled.
Shaking, Layla dragged him into the washroom. Her arms burned with the effort, but adrenaline fueled her. She yanked her dagger free, wiped the blade clean with quick, practiced hands, and shut the door behind him with a soft thud.Almost there.
She turned toward the double doors, chest tight, fingers curling around the handle. If I can just make it across the hall…But the knob twisted beneath her grip and she jerked back, startled. The door creaked open—And King Ivar stepped into view. Layla’s breathinstantly vanished.
"Ah," he grinned, eyes narrowing as he closed the door behind him. “You came after all.” She swallowed hard, tucking the blade into the folds of her dress, hiding the unsteadiness in her hands. He prowled closer, eyes devouring her. “I knew you would. You’re just like all the others.”
Layla forced a simper as bile racked up her throat. "I thought I’d… please you, my King.”
He chuckled—low, wicked. “Oh, you will.”
Ivar motioned to the velvet couch near the hearth as he sauntered across the room, pouring two glasses of amber liquor with deliberate ease. His eyes never left her—dark with lust, devouring her like a feast already promised.
He returned, drink in hand, and lowered himself beside her with all the smugness of a king certain of his prize. Layla accepted the glass with unsteady fingers and lifted it to her lips, only pretending to sip. The sharp fumes alone made her stomach twist.
So… where does that husband of yours think you’ve run off to?” Ivar drawled, his voice dripping with venomous amusement. “Does he know his precious little prize snuck away to warm my bed instead?”
She forced a smile. “He doesn’t need to know.”
King Ivar leaned in, his breath rancid as he murmured, “Then let’s not waste time.” He rose abruptly, yanking her to her feet by the elbow. “Undress.” Layla went rigid. “I said—undress.” The playful mockery vanished from his voice, replaced by a cold, commanding edge.
When she didn’t obey fast enough, he snarled, drew a dagger from his belt, and began slashing through her gown. Steel tore through silk. The fabric fluttered to the floor in ribbons, pooling around her ankles. Until only her thin shift remained.
“Now that’s more like it,” Ivar purred, eyes glinting. “Now take it off.”
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. Her mind screamed, but her body obeyed.Endure. Live. Save Ciana.
