Page 4 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

Captain Knox nodded, not questioning the order. “Yes, Your Highness.” He wheeled his horse around and galloped off, leaving Skylar staring at Arye in disbelief. The prince’s command lingered, a death sentence for countless soldiers.

As soon as the Captain was out of earshot, Skylar moved closer to Arye. “Arye,” she said softly, using his name with the familiarity of years of friendship. “A frontal assault could be suicide. We should-“

“You doubt me, Sky?” Arye interrupted, his tone low and intense. His eyes bore into hers, a mix of challenge and something darker, more possessive. The intensity of his gaze made her breath catch in her throat.

Skylar met his look unflinchingly, refusing to back down despite the flutter in her stomach. “I’m concerned about our men. There has to be a better way than this. We can-“

“Our men will fight,” Arye cut her off again, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His words rang with absolute confidence, brooking no argument. “And they’ll win. Because that’s what I expect of them.”

Skylar opened her mouth to retort, to make him see reason, but a commotion from nearby caught her attention. The clashof metal and raised voices drew closer, pulling them from their disagreement.

Soldiers were dragging a struggling Thorncrest captive towards them, the man’s armor dented and bloodied, his face a mask of defiance despite his predicament. Skylar’s hand instinctively tightened on her sword hilt, her body tensing for potential danger. Her glance flicked to Arye, a protective instinct surging through her veins. For a moment she thought she heard the faint rustle of feathers. The cursed beast was restless, sensing its time was near.

“Your Highness! Your Grace!” A soldier called out, straining with effort as he struggled to contain the man. “We found this one trying to sneak past our lines. Says he has information.”

Arye’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the newcomer, his posture shifting subtly. Skylar recognized the change—the predator sensing potential prey. A shiver ran down her spine, a mixture of fear and something else she dared not name.

“Speak, dog,” Arye commanded, his words laced with disdain. “What information could you possibly have that would interest us?”

The captive spat blood onto the ground, his eyes burning with hatred. A glob of red-tinged saliva landed near Skylar’s boot. “I’ll talk to no one but the King himself,” he rasped, his voice raw with pain and defiance.

In a flash, Arye’s hand shot out, gripping the man’s throat. “You’ll speak to me,” he growled, “or you’ll never speak again. Choose wisely.”

Skylar watched the exchange, her heart pounding against her ribs. This was the side of Arye that both thrilled and terrified her—the next King who would do anything to protect his kingdom. She saw the barely contained violence in his gaze, the tension in his muscles as he held the man’s life in his grasp. A corner ofher mind urged her to intervene, to show mercy, but a darker impulse—one she tried to ignore—reveled in Arye’s strength.

The Thorncrest soldier’s eyes bulged as he fought for air, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. Just as Skylar thought Arye might actually kill him, he released his grip. The man fell to his knees, gasping and coughing, each breath a desperate wheeze.

“The eastern pass,” he managed between ragged breaths, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… it’s a trap.”

Skylar and Arye exchanged a quick glance. She recognized the same realization dawning on his expression that she felt—if this was true, their entire strategy would need to change.

“Explain,” Skylar demanded, her tone harsh.

The captive looked up, his expression wavering between terror and defeat. “The reinforcements… they’re not coming through the pass. That’s just a diversion. The real attack…” He coughed, struggling to catch his breath. Each word seemed to cost him dearly. “It’s coming from the north. A secret path through the mountains. You’ll be surrounded by dawn.”

Arye’s face remained impassive, but the subtle flicker in his eyes betrayed his racing thoughts to Skylar.

“How do we know you’re not lying?” he asked, his tone dangerously calm.

“Because I deserted,” the man replied, barely audible. The fight seemed to drain out of him, leaving only a broken shell of a man. “Their experiments… they killed my daughter. She was just a child, and they…” His voice broke, tears threatening to spill down his grimy cheeks.

A heavy silence fell over the group. Skylar’s mind raced, trying to process this new information. If it was true, everything changed. She cast a sidelong look at Arye, noting the tightening of his jaw. The gravity of their next decision loomed over her, its significance almost overwhelming.

“Your Highness,” she began, but Arye held up a hand, silencing her.

“Take him to the interrogators,” he ordered the soldiers, his words cold and detached. “I want every detail he knows extracted. Use whatever means necessary.”

As the captive was dragged away, his pleas for mercy fading into the din of battle, Arye turned to Skylar. “Gather the war council,” he said, his tone softening slightly when addressing her. This subtle shift, so subtle others might miss it, made Skylar’s heart skip a beat. “We need to-“

“Duke Anathemark!”

The thunderous approach of another horse cut through Arye’s words. Skylar whirled to see King Lyinell riding towards them, his golden armor a beacon amidst the grime and gore of battle.

“Your Majesty.” Skylar bowed her head, acutely aware of Arye tensing beside her. The air crackled with unspoken tension, as it always did when father and son were in close proximity.

The King’s eyes swept over the battlefield, his expression grim. Skylar could see the gravity of the kingdom’s fate etched in the lines of his face. “The situation grows dire,” he declared, his voice reflecting the import of his crown. Each word fell like a stone in Skylar’s stomach. “Our eastern flank is weakening.”

Arye stepped forward, his jaw clenched. “Father, we’ve just received intelligence that-“

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