Page 10 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

Skylar watched as he took the water cup back, placing it next to him on the table. His gaze lingered on the spot where her lips had touched the rim. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry.

“How many?” she pressed, afraid of the answer.

Arye’s eyes snapped back to her face, cold and hard. “Probably not enough.”

His words hung heavily in the air. Guilt threatened to overwhelm her.

She could have saved them.

The faces of the fallen flashed before her eyes—young Billy, his leg a mangled mess; the countless others whose names she’d never know. Their blood stained her hands, invisible yet impossible to wash away.

Another silence fell, more prolonged than the last. Skylar fidgeted, unsure how to navigate this tense dynamic between them.

“And the eastern flank?” she asked, desperate for a distraction.

“Secure, for now,” Arye said, turning back to the map and tracing battle lines with his fingers. “You’ve pushed Thorncrest back across the border.”

Skylar moved to stand beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. She wanted to lean into that warmth, to press herself against him and forget the world outside this tent. Instead, she forced herself to focus on the map, trying to ignore the way her skin prickled at his proximity.

“We should fortify our position here,” she said, pointing to a strategic pass. Her voice sounded strained to her own ears. “If we can hold this ground?—”

“Sky.”

The tenderness in Arye’s voice made her look up. His face was mere inches from hers, his expression searching. The sudden intimacy stole her breath away. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she lied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The words tasted bitter. “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

Arye’s brow furrowed, clearly not believing her. She could see the concern etched in the lines of his face, the worry darkening his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but Skylar was faster, desperate to change the subject before he could pry further.

“The old woman,” she began, grasping for a safer topic. “Who was she?”

Arye’s lips twisted into a faint smile. “Someone nobody will miss if she proves untrustworthy.”

Skylar rolled her eyes at his dark humor.

“Have the healers arrived?” she asked, changing the subject once more.

“Yes,” Arye answered brusquely. “We’ll receive additional aid from Aequilibrium in the coming days.”

Skylar nodded. A spark of hope lit her thoughts at the news of support from their oldest ally. The Thousand-Year King was dependable, his loyalty unwavering through countless conflicts. This one would be no different.

Yet, something felt off.

Arye’s responses were curt. Almost hostile. His gaze kept flicking to her mouth, and with a start, she remembered biting her lip earlier when changing her bandages. Had she missed a spot of blood?

Unconsciously, she licked at the wound on her lower lip, tasting the faint metallic tang of blood. Arye’s gaze darted back to her eyes, and the air seemed to crackle with tension. Skylar felt her cheeks flush, a wave of heat washing over her. She was acutely aware of how close they were standing, of the scant inches separating their bodies.

God. She wanted him.

The urge to grab his collar, to pull him close and kiss him, bite him, was almost overwhelming.

But she couldn’t. It was a familiar struggle, one she’d been battling for years.

“Noire,” she said abruptly, desperate for distraction. The thought of her faithful warhorse grounded her, offering a lifeline amidst the tumultuous sea of her emotions. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s with Blanche,” came Arye’s reply, tone softening slightly.

The silence that followed was the longest yet. She observed the myriad emotions flitting across Arye’s face—anger, frustration, concern.

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