Page 45 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

“Come on, Arye,” she’d laughed, elbowing him playfully. “Even the kitchen maids know about your late-night visitors. Care to enlighten your oldest friend?”

His face had darkened then, a scowl twisting his features. “They’re disgusting,” he’d whispered. “All of them.”

At the time, she’d assumed he meant the gossip. Now, she wondered if there had been more to his words. Had that been the moment he’d realized his preferences for men? Or had it come later, gradually, as they’d grown closer over the years?

But then, hadn’t he told his father about some noble lady he fancied? Skylar’s chest tightened at the thought, a familiar jealousy coiling in her stomach. Maybe he’d found someone after all. Someone who could give him everything Skylar couldn’t.

It was for the best. As long as he’s happy.

By the time Skylar finally called for Melody, the water had cooled. Despite her wrinkled, pruned skin from the long soak, she felt no more relaxed than before. Her faithful servant entered, the lock clicking securely behind her before she helped Skylar from the tub.

As Melody wrapped her in soft towels, Skylar reveled in the simple pleasure of being cared for. It was a luxury she rarely allowed herself, too afraid of growing accustomed to a softness she couldn’t keep.

“The Dowager Duchess sent a gift,” Melody said, retrieving a package from the wardrobe. Her voice was gentle, almost hesitant. “To help you get used to… well, being yourself.”

Skylar’s fingers trembled slightly as she unwrapped the parcel, the paper crinkling softly under her touch. Inside lay a silken nightgown and matching robe, the fabric shimmering in the candlelight. It was impossibly soft against her skin as she slipped them on, the edge barely hiding her knees. So different from the stiff uniforms she usually wore. It felt foreign, almost dangerous, to be clothed in something so undeniably feminine.

“It’s exquisite,” she murmured, running her hands over the silver fabric. Her fingers traced the delicate embroidery at the hem, making her smile. Lavender flowers. Of course. Her mother’s touch, even from afar.

Melody smiled, guiding Skylar to the vanity, its surface adorned with trinkets from all her travels. “Now, let’s see to that hair of yours. It’s a crime to keep it hidden all the time.”

As the brush glided through Skylar’s long silver-white tresses, working out the tangles, a comfortable silence fell between them. But Skylar couldn’t help glancing nervously at the door every few moments, her body tensing at each creak or distant footstep.

“Melody,” she said, voice tight with anxiety, “you’re sure you locked it, right?”

“Of course, my lady,” Melody assured her, meeting Skylar’s eyes in the mirror. Her gaze was steady, grounding. “No one will disturb us. You’re safe here.”

Skylar nodded, trying to relax. “Thank you. I just… I can’t afford for anyone to see me like this.” The consequences would be catastrophic—not just for her, but for her entire family. The thought of King Lyinell discovering her deception sent ice through her veins. Or worse, Arye.

“I know, my lady.” Melody’s voice was gentle, tinged with sadness. “But you should be able to be yourself sometimes.”

A lump formed in Skylar’s throat. “I don’t mind it,” she lied, more to convince herself than Melody. “It protects the ones I love.”

Melody’s hands stilled for a second. “Speaking of which, I received news today. Your mother’s found a name for your brother.”

“Oh?” Skylar perked up, grateful for the change of subject. “What is it?”

“Conley,” Melody replied with a smile. “Fitting for the future Duke Anathemark, don’t you think?”

Skylar’s shoulders tensed. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

A question that had long simmered in her mind suddenly bubbled to the surface. “Melody,” she began hesitantly, “why was I raised as the heir? Father was still alive when I was born, and they were trying for a son. I never fully understood why they put me through all this.”

Melody’s hands stilled, her expression growing serious in the mirror’s reflection. “It was to protect your bloodline,” she said slowly, choosing her words with care. “The king… he didn’t like your father much. Without a male heir, people might have tried to get rid of your mother. Who would protect the wife of a monster and her little girl?”

Skylar frowned, sensing there was more to the story. “Is that all?”

Melody sighed, her eyes sad as she met Skylar’s gaze. “No, my lady. They couldn’t be sure the next child would be a son. And…” she hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper, “there was another reason.”

“Tell me.”

Melody glanced uneasily at the door before continuing. “King Lyinell,” she said, her words barely audible. “He showed… interest in the Duchess. Used your father like a tool. Their Graces worried what he might do to a child with your mother’s beauty and your father’s power.”

Skylar’s stomach churned as the implications sank in. Memories flooded back—the King’s lingering gaze on her mother, the tension that filled the room whenever he was near. And then, more recently, the day he’d used the pact, forcing Skylar to her knees. The cruel glint in his eyes as he’d nearly made her act like a dog. Bile rose in her throat, bitter and acidic. Hate and disgust burned deep inside her, a fire that threatened to consume her.

“Is that why they had me grow up with Arye?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady. “To keep me away from the King?”

Melody shook her head, a fond smile touching her lips. “No, that was your doing. You befriended the prince on your own. He was always asking for you, even though you were two years younger.” Her expression softened. “It worked out well, though. Kept you both happy and safe.”

---