Page 43 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

The air crackled with tension. Skylar felt the gravity of unspoken words pressing down, threatening to suffocate her. Her next move was clear, despite every fiber of her being rebelling against it. She had to tell him the truth—that she wasn’t the man he thought she was, that this could never work, that she would be leaving soon.

But she couldn’t. She had to lie. Again.

Skylar took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knew she had to do. It would hurt them both, but it was unavoidable. “Arye, if you have feelings for me beyond friendship, you need to forget them,” she said, each word carefully chosen to wound. “I’m not interested in that kind of relationship.”

Arye’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and something else—pain, perhaps—flashing over his face. The sight was like a dagger to Skylar’s heart, but she forced herself to continue.

“I won’t be anyone’s secret indulgence or hidden passion,” she said carefully. “I respect myself too much for that, and I respect you too much to let you compromise yourself.”

“Compromise myself?” Arye repeated, incredulity coloring his tone. “I don’t understand.”

Skylar shook her head, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m not someone you can just take to still your desire whenever it pleases you.”

“Desire? You’re not making sense, Sky.”

Skylar sighed heavily. How clear did she have to make it for him to understand that becoming his lover was completely out of the question? Being a sidepiece, hidden from the woman he married? That wasn’t an option. She would never agree to such an arrangement, even if she were truly a man.

“Look, we have duties to fulfill, marriages to arrange, heirs to produce. That’s just how it’s supposed to be.”

Arye tensed at her words, his jaw clenching. His gaze drifted momentarily to the palace, where Skylar knew negotiations with Thorncrest were taking place. There was an urgency in his eyes she’d never seen before, as if he was the one running out of time.

“Is that what this is about? Duty and heirs?”

“It’s not that simple,” Skylar argued, her frustration mounting. “You’re the Crown Prince. You can’t ignore your responsibilities to the kingdom.”

“And what about my responsibility to myself? To my own happiness?” Arye countered, his voice rising. A nearby bird took flight, startled by the sudden outburst. “Don’t I deserve that too?”

“Your happiness can’t come at the expense of Regalclaw’s stability,” Skylar insisted. “You need a proper Queen, someone who can give you heirs, forge alliances. Someone from another kingdom.”

Someone like Princess Aven.

The thought sent a fresh wave of pain through her chest. She could picture it all too vividly—Arye standing at the altar, pledging himself to a beautiful woman while Skylar watched from the shadows, forever on the outside.

“You think that’s the right thing to do?” Arye’s words were sharp with disbelief.

“It’s not about right or wrong. Why don’t you understand?—”

“Then help me understand,” he pleaded, frustration evident in every line of his body. “Because right now, all I see is you pushing me away for no good reason.”

“Do you need me to spell it out?” she sighed, running a hand through her hair. The wig shifted slightly, reminding her of all the lies between them. “I’m a man, and not just any man but a Duke. I have my own duties to fulfill. My own legacy to uphold.”

A tense silence fell. Skylar watched emotions flicker across Arye’s face—confusion, frustration, pain. His brow furrowed, jaw clenching as he visibly struggled with her words. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, carefully controlled.

“So that’s how you see it,” he said, each word measured. “It’s all about duties.”

“That’s our reality.”

They sat in silence. Arye seemed to be deep in his own thoughts, and Skylar hoped he would never ask her again. In the best case, Arye would just invite attractive men to his room like he did till now with women, until he married either Princess Aven or the noblewoman he had in mind. Once that happened, Skylar would probably be living far away in an arranged marriage, trying to grow feelings for a hopefully nice and friendly man while her brother learned to become the next Duke Anathemark.

That’s what it was. Their future. Trapped in duty and obligation.

Suddenly, Arye’s voice came again, softer this time. “Have you never been in love, Sky?”

The question caught Skylar off guard. She turned to look at him, her gaze cold and hard as she remembered her own feelings, the years of longing and secrecy. Her entire life had been nothing but a lie, and here he was, asking about love as if it were so simple.

“Love,” she spat, the word bitter on her tongue, “is reserved for commoners.”

Arye recoiled. “You don’t mean that,” he said, disbelief coloring his tone. “I know you, Sky. Better than anyone. And I know that’s not true.”

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