Page 14 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

As if sensing their conversation, Arye suddenly looked over. Their eyes met across the busy camp, and for a heartbeat, the world fell away, leaving only the two of them. Then his attention snapped back to the advisors, his expression hardening as he bit out what appeared to be a harsh reprimand.

Skylar watched as a senior advisor attempted to interject. Arye cut him off with a sharp gesture, his other hand clenching into a fist at his side.

Not good. The peace negotiations weren’t going well.

“Gods above,” Anthony muttered, following her gaze. “I haven’t seen him this worked up since… frankly, since we lost that outpost on the northern border last year.”

Skylar nodded, remembering vividly the cold fury that had radiated from Arye in the aftermath of that disaster. She’d been the only one able to approach him then, to offer a steady presence as he plotted his ruthless counterattack.

As the heated discussion continued, Arye’s eyes kept finding their way back to Skylar. Each glance felt like a physical touch, leaving her skin tingling in their wake. She forced herself to look away, her heart racing.

“Your Grace?” Anthony’s voice was hesitant. “If I may… perhaps you might speak with His Highness? You’ve always had a way of… calming him.”

Skylar’s lips quirked in a humorless smile. If only Anthony knew the cost of that “calming” influence. The lies. The secrets.

“Perhaps,” she said noncommittally. “We’ll see how the day unfolds.”

As if on cue, Arye’s gaze found her once more. This time, Skylar allowed herself to meet his eyes directly. She arched an eyebrow, then winked—a quick, barely perceptible gesture. For a fraction of a second, Arye’s stern expression cracked. The corner of his mouth twitched, fighting a grin before he turned sharply back to his advisors.

“A futile effort, it seems,” Skylar muttered, her tone dry.

“Pardon, Your Grace?” Anthony asked, confusion evident in his voice.

“Nothing, just thinking aloud.”

Skylar kept looking at Arye until he disappeared behind the tents. She didn’t know what she hoped for. These small moments were all she had. All she could ever have. Deserved.

Talking about punishments…

“That young man you mentioned…” she said suddenly, an idea forming. “I want you to hire him as one of the palace stablemen.”

Anthony’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Your Grace? Are you certain that’s wise? We know nothing about?—”

“You heard me,” Skylar continued, her tone brooking no argument. “But don’t mention that the request came from me. Understood?”

Anthony nodded slowly, his expression puzzled. “Of course, Your Grace. But… if I may ask, why not hire him for the Anathemark Estate instead?”

A wry grin tugged at Skylar’s lips. “That would be too obvious, wouldn’t it?”

She didn’t elaborate further, leaving the Chief Servant to ponder her cryptic response. In truth, she couldn’t bear the thought of Billy being under her direct employ—a constant reminder of her failure to protect him. At least this way, she could ensure he had a stable position without having to face him regularly.

As Anthony hurried off to carry out her instructions, Skylar allowed herself a small, grim smile. In a few weeks, it wouldn’t matter if she ran into Billy at the palace stables. By then, Duke Skylar Anathemark would be nothing more than a memory.

With a soft sigh, she finished grooming Blanche, her hands lingering briefly on the mare’s warm flank. She gathered her supplies and made her way back toward her tent, her steps measured and deliberate.

The camp bustled around her, soldiers and servants alike giving her a wide berth. Some bowed their heads respectfully as she passed, while others averted their gaze entirely. She could feel the weight of their stares on her back, a prickling sensation between her shoulder blades. They either respected or feared her. Both were fine; she didn’t want to talk with anyone today anyway.

As she neared her tent, she saw Billy again—maybe fifteen feet away, talking with one of the healers. He seemed to straighten as she passed, his eyes widening with recognition. For a moment, it looked as though he might try to speak to her.

But he wouldn’t be able to. Not if she didn’t initiate contact first.

Billy stayed where he was, held back by the invisible barriers of rank and protocol. Skylar felt a mixture of relief and shame wash over her. She truly was a coward, unable to face the young man she’d failed to protect.

Her wounds may have healed, the physical pain faded to memory, but the guilt… that remained as sharp and present as ever.

Just before reaching her tent, a snippet of conversation caught her attention. A group of soldiers, partially hidden behind a stack of supply crates, were speaking in hushed tones. The smell of cheap ale wafted from their direction, biting and sour in the morning air.

“Did you see it?” one whispered, his tone tinged with disgust. “It was like something out of a nightmare.”

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