Page 18 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

Skylar’s senses sharpened to a razor’s edge. She rolled off Arye, body coiled and ready to spring. Her gaze darted from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of movement. The sun beat down mercilessly, its glare reflecting off windows and polished armor, creating dazzling flashes that made her eyes water.

“Captain Knox!” she bellowed over the pandemonium. “Secure the perimeter! Every rooftop and alley searched!”

The Captain’s gruff voice rang out, issuing rapid-fire orders. “You heard the Duke! Move your arses! Eyes on every damn shadow in this city!” Skylar caught a glimpse of his weathered face set in grim determination as he organized the chaos into a semblance of order. Armored boots clattered on stone as soldiers rushed to obey.

Skylar turned back to Arye, extending her hand. Her glove was torn, revealing scraped raw skin beneath. Sweat seeped into the exposed wounds, causing them to sting. “Are you hurt?” she asked, quickly scanning him for injuries. Her heart raced, fear and relief warring within her.

Arye grasped her hand, his grip firm as he pulled himself up. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “Thank you, Sky.” His gaze locked onto hers, and Skylar found herself drowning in the storm of emotions swirling in their depths.

Skylar swallowed hard, forcing herself to step back. The loss of contact left her feeling strangely bereft. “It’s my duty to protect the royal family,” she said, adopting a more formal tone. She straightened, ignoring her protesting muscles. “We need to get you and His Majesty to safety immediately.”

Arye’s brow furrowed, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “Is that the only reason?” he pressed, his tone challenging. “Duty?”

The question caught her off guard. Skylar’s heart raced, but she managed a grin, falling back on their usual banter. “Of course not, Your Highness. We’re friends first and foremost, aren’t we?”

“Friends,” Arye repeated, the word dripping with contempt. Something dark and unreadable flashed across his face before he turned away. “I should check on my father.”

As Arye strode toward the King, barking orders at nearby guards, Skylar stood rooted to the spot, uncertainty gnawing at her.

She had a job to do. Skylar scanned the area, assessing the situation. The initial panic had subsided, replaced by a tense, nervous energy. Guards swarmed buildings, shouts and the sound of splintering doors echoing off stone walls. In the distance, soldiers pursued potential suspects, the clatter of their armor growing fainter as they disappeared down winding alleys.

Her gaze fell on King Lyinell, surrounded by a phalanx of guards. His face was set in cold fury, golden armor catching the sunlight. Arye stood beside him, posture rigid, eyes scanning the crowd with predatory intensity. The contrast between father and son was stark—one gleaming, the other dark. Different yet similar. Dangerous in their own ways.

Skylar approached, her stride purposeful. As she drew near, the King’s voice reached her, stern and menacing.

“I want the perpetrator found and brought to me,” King Lyinell was saying, words clipped and precise. “Alive, if possible. Dead, if necessary.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Captain Knox replied, inclining his head respectfully. Sweat glistened on his bald head as he straightened. “We’ve already apprehended several suspects. They’re being questioned as we speak.”

Skylar cleared her throat. “Your Majesty, Your Highness,” she said, bowing respectfully. “We should move to a more secure location. It’s not safe to remain exposed.”

King Lyinell’s cold gaze fell upon her, and Skylar fought the urge to flinch. There was something in his eyes, a calculation that made her skin crawl. The weight of his stare felt almost physical, as if it could pin her in place.

“Ah, Duke Anathemark,” he said, tone deceptively light. “I see your… unique talents continue to aid the Crown well. Though one wonders why you didn’t unleash that beast of yours to prevent this… unfortunate incident.”

Skylar’s jaw clenched at the implied insult. She forced herself to remain impassive, her voice steady. “I live to serve, Your Majesty. The Divine Beast is not to be summoned lightly, as you surely know. The cost?—”

“Yes, yes,” the King interrupted, waving dismissively. “The cost. Always the cost with you Anathemarks. As if your very existence isn’t payment enough for the power you wield.”

Arye stepped forward, eyes flashing dangerously. “Father,” he said, voice tight with barely contained anger, “now is not the time for?—”

“You’re right, of course,” King Lyinell interrupted, a cold smile playing at his lips. “We have more pressing matters. Captain Knox, lead the way to the palace. Duke Anathemark, you will join us.”

Skylar nodded, falling into step beside Arye as they made their way toward the waiting carriages. The crowd parted before them, a sea of frightened faces and whispered speculation.

As they walked, Skylar’s wrist throbbed relentlessly. She flexed her fingers experimentally, wincing at the sharp twinge that shot up her arm. The movement sent a fresh wave of pain through her, making her grit her teeth to keep from gasping aloud.

She noticed Arye’s gaze on her, his brow furrowed with concern. His eyes swept over her, lingering on her injured wrist. “You’re hurt,” he said, voice low enough that only she could hear.

Skylar waved off his concern, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing. Just a minor sprain.”

Arye’s eyes narrowed, clearly not believing her. “You should have it looked at when we reach the palace.”

“There are more important things to worry about right now,” Skylar argued firmly. “We need to call a physician to check on you.”

A muscle ticked in Arye’s jaw, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he said, “You saved my life today.”

Skylar’s step faltered for a moment before she recovered. “As I said, it’s my duty?—”

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