Page 26 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

“How is she doing?” Skylar’s words were tinged with worry as she gripped the ornate doorknob.

Fern’s expression tightened, her calm demeanor slipping for a moment. “It’s been… challenging,” she admitted. “The second month has been particularly difficult. The medicine helps manage the pain and keeps her lucid through the labor, but…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Skylar nodded, steeling herself before entering the room. The heavy door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. The sight that greeted her made her breath catch in her throat. Her mother, once the very picture of elegance and poise, lay propped up on pillows, her face pale and drawn with pain. But her eyes… her eyes lit up the moment she saw Skylar, a spark of life returning to their depths.

“My darling,” the Dowager Duchess said, her voice weak but filled with warmth. “Come, let me look at you.”

Skylar approached the bed, embracing her mother’s outstretched hand. It was so fragile, the skin paper-thin and cool to the touch. She felt every bone, every tendon, a stark reminder of the toll this pregnancy was taking. “Mother,” she murmured, fighting back tears. “How are you feeling?”

A wan smile crossed her mother’s face, the effort of it seeming to drain what little color remained in her cheeks. “Oh, I’ve been better. But it will all be worth it soon.” Her free hand rested on her swollen belly, a gesture of protection and love. “Your brother is eager to join us, I think.”

Skylar forced a smile, pushing down the complicated emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. The room suddenlyfelt too small, too warm. She could hear the steady ticking of a clock somewhere, each second a reminder of the time slipping away. “I’m sure he is. He’ll be strong, like Father.”

Her mother’s eyes misted over at the mention of her late husband. The grief, though years old, was still palpable in the air between them. “Yes,” she said softly. “Just like him.” She squeezed Skylar’s hand, her gaze sharpening. “But enough about me. How are you, my dear? You look… tired.”

Skylar opened her mouth to respond, to assure her mother that everything was fine, but the words caught in her throat. How could she burden her mother with her troubles? How could she explain the weight of her duties, the constant fear of discovery, the ache of impossible love?

Before she could formulate a response, her mother’s eyes widened with sudden excitement. The change was dramatic, color flooding back into her cheeks. “Oh! I almost forgot. Melody, be a dear and fetch the package from my closet, would you?”

Melody hurried to obey, her skirts rustling as she hastened away. She returned moments later with a large, flat box, its surface smooth and unmarked. Skylar’s mother gestured for her to bring it closer.

“Open it here, darling,” her mother said, patting the bed beside her. “I want to see your face.”

Skylar hesitated, then carefully placed the box on the bed next to her mother. She hadn’t received a gift since she was entrusted with her father’s sword years ago. With trembling fingers, she lifted the lid, her breath catching as she revealed the contents—a dress of the most exquisite ice-blue silk, adorned with intricate embroidery and countless glittering gems. It was a gown fit for a princess, a far cry from the dark attire she’d worn for so long.

As Skylar lifted the dress from the box, the fabric shimmered, each movement sending ripples of light across its surface. Her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch it, the silk cool and smooth beneath her hands. It felt alien, wrong somehow.

This wasn’t meant for her.

It was for the person she was supposed to become.

11

She swallowed hard, fighting against the lump in her throat. Unshed tears burned behind her eyes as she stood there, staring at the stunning ice-blue gown. Sunlight danced across the intricate crystal work, transforming the dress into a shimmering frost. Beautiful. Delicate. Feminine.

Everything she wasn’t. Everything she couldn’t be.

“It’s gorgeous, Mother,” Skylar managed; the words felt hollow, inadequate. “But I… I can’t wear it.”

Her gaze drifted to the bed where her mother lay propped against a mountain of pillows, her swollen belly a stark reminder of the life growing within. The once-vibrant woman looked so fragile now, her face etched with lines of exhaustion from years of uncomfortableness and months of pain. Skylar’s chest tightened at the sight. The cloying scent of medicinal herbs mingled with the sour tang of illness, threatening to overwhelm her.

“Why ever not, my darling?” her mother asked, her tone soft but probing, a hint of strain underlying her words.

The question hung in the air, suffocating. Skylar’s lungs constricted, each breath a desperate attempt to hold back thestorm of emotions brewing within her. She met her mother’s gaze, and something inside her snapped.

“Because I don’t know who I am anymore!” The words erupted from her, raw and ragged. Years of pent-up frustration and confusion poured out in a torrent. “Am I Duke Skylar Anathemark? The Crown Prince’s friend? The kingdom’s protector? A monster?” Her voice cracked, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. “Or am I your daughter, meant for pretty dresses and balls—a lady?” She gestured helplessly at the gown, its soft rustle a mockery of her turmoil. “I’ve never known who I’m supposed to be.”

From the corner of her eye, she caught Melody’s shocked expression. The realization that she’d never lost control like this before anyone only intensified her feeling of exposure.

Cool, trembling fingers cupped her cheek, and Skylar instinctively leaned into her mother’s touch. “Oh, my sweet girl,” her mother murmured, love suffusing every word. “You are, and have always been, my beloved daughter. The rest… it was necessary, but it was never meant to define you.”

Skylar allowed herself a moment of vulnerability, savoring the comfort of her mother’s caress. “But it has defined me.” The admission fell from her lips, barely audible. “I don’t know how to be anyone else. I’ve been the Duke for so long, always strong, always unyielding. How can I just… change?”

Her mother’s grip tightened slightly. Drawing a sharp breath, she continued with steely resolve beneath her frail demeanor. “Then I’ll help you remember. To enjoy a garden stroll, to converse with gentlemen, to befriend ladies at tea parties. To be the woman you were always meant to be.”

Skylar swallowed hard, the bitterness of unshed tears coating her tongue. How could she explain that she’d never truly lived as a lady, as a Duke’s pampered daughter? Her world was one of rough play, of commanding subordinates, of fighting andeven loving as a man would. The familiar weight of her sword, the constricting pressure of her chest bindings—these were her reality. It wasn’t about remembering; it was about becoming someone entirely new.

“Mother, I—” she began, but her mother cut her off, urgency coloring her tone.

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