Page 11 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

Finally, he spoke, words raw with emotion. “My father…” he began, then trailed off, shaking his head. “He doesn’t understand. He can’t see beyond his ambition, his way to protect Regalclaw.”

Skylar remained silent, giving him space to vent. Her heart ached for him, for the weight of expectation that rested on his shoulders. She knew all too well the burden of duty, the suffocating pressure of a predetermined path.

“And you,” he continued, his stare intense. “Sky, I can’t… Promise me you’ll never summon it again.”

The request caught her off guard. She blinked, trying to process his words.

“Arye, I…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to. But if you had commanded me days or weeks ago, we could have saved so many of our men.”

Anger sparked in Arye’s eyes. “I would never ask that of you,” he growled. “Never.”

His vehemence took Skylar aback. She searched his face, trying to understand the depth of emotion behind his words. “Why?” she pressed, confusion and frustration coloring her tone. “Why wouldn’t you use every advantage to protect our people?”

Before Arye could respond, a commotion outside drew their attention. Raised voices and the clatter of armor grew louder, approaching rapidly. Skylar’s hand instinctively moved to her sword, the familiar weight providing comfort.

Arye’s expression hardened as he turned towards the entrance. Skylar watched the transformation, saw the vulnerableman she’d been speaking to moments ago disappear behind the mask of the Crown Prince. It was a change she’d witnessed countless times, yet it never failed to fascinate her.

Suddenly, the tent flap flew open. “Your Highness!” A guard’s voice called out, breathless and urgent. “His Majesty approaches!”

Skylar’s stomach dropped. King Lyinell. The man who had commanded her to summon the Gryphon. The man who had killed her father. Anger and anxiety twisted within her, making her fingers tighten around her sword hilt.

King Lyinell strode in, his golden armor gleaming even in the dim light. Skylar felt his gaze sweep over the scene, his eyes narrowing as they lingered on her for a moment too long.

“What’s this?” he demanded, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Skylar noticed Arye’s posture stiffen. “Father,” he said, his manner carefully controlled. “To what do we owe the honor?”

The King’s gaze locked onto Arye, cold anger in his eyes. “You executed several of my men,” he spat. “Without my authorization.”

Skylar’s breath caught. Executed? Her gaze sought Arye’s, searching for an explanation, but his face remained unreadable.

“I had my reasons,” Arye replied coolly.

The temperature in the tent seemed to drop several degrees. Skylar’s heart pounded as she watched the confrontation unfold, feeling like an intruder.

King Lyinell’s expression twisted with icy contempt. He stepped forward, gripping Arye’s shoulder painfully. “You insolent whelp,” he growled. “You forget your place.”

Skylar’s body tensed, every instinct screaming at her to intervene, to protect Arye. But she remained rooted to the spot, years of training holding her back.

Arye didn’t flinch. He met his father’s gaze steadily, his lips moving in a whisper Skylar couldn’t catch. The King’s eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously.

In a flash, the King’s hand moved from Arye’s shoulder to his throat, pushing him back against the tent pole. “How dare you?” he hissed.

The sudden movement made Skylar flinch. She started forward, but she froze as the King’s glare shifted to her.

“I am the King of Regalclaw,” he declared, releasing Arye. “Isn’t that right, Duke Anathemark?”

Skylar’s mouth went dry. She tried to respond, but no words came out.

“I asked you a question, Duke,” the King pressed darkly.

Before she could speak, Arye stepped in. “Leave him out of this, Father,” he said threateningly.

A cruel smile curled the King’s lips as he turned fully towards Skylar. “Let me demonstrate the power of the Crown.”

Arye’s voice cut in, sharp with panic. “Don’t you dare?—”

But it was too late. The King’s words rang out, heavy with the weight of the pact. “Duke Anathemark, I command you to kneel before your King.”

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