Page 52 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

Skylar frowned, her mind racing. “To protect the Clawborne’s bloodline and Regalclaw, but?—”

“Exactly,” Arye cut in, his eyes gleaming. “And who’s the real threat to our kingdom now?”

“Thorncrest,” she replied, her tone sharp. “Though some of your father’s decisions haven’t quite strengthened our position.”

Killing off her father was probably the worst of all. King Lyinell could have had two Anathemarks under his command, three once Conlay would be able to summon his own Divine Beast. That would have been enough power to protect the kingdom for decades. The thought of it made her blood boil.

Arye nodded. “So if a Clawborne still sits on the throne, if Regalclaw stands stronger…”

“Then the spirit of the pact might remain upheld,” Skylar finished. She met Arye’s gaze, her expression guarded. “It’s an interesting theory, but it’s built on a lot of assumptions.”

The pact had always seemed so clear, so absolute in its demands. Protect the Clawbornes. Follow every command. Defend Regalclaw at all costs. But now…

She thought of the King, his questionable decisions, his growing ruthlessness. If he truly posed a threat to the kingdom… If Arye was right, if the Gryphon truly cared only for thepreservation of Regalclaw and the Clawborne line, then her duty might align with his ambitions.

“And if you’re wrong?” she asked, her voice steady. “If this triggers consequences we can’t foresee?”

A shadow passed over Arye’s expression. “Then we’ll face them.”

Skylar’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not good enough. We need to consider every possible outcome before we even think about moving forward with this. I’m sure the commands?—”

“I’ll ensure that won’t happen,” he promised, his voice firm. “I won’t let anyone use you against me.”

Skylar felt her chest tighten at the intensity in his gaze. She could see the determination there, the unwavering resolve. And beneath it all, a desperation that resonated deep within her.

“And what would you have me do?” she asked quietly, her heart pounding as she awaited his answer.

Arye’s expression softened. “I want you to watch me,” he repeated, his voice low and intense. “I will reshape Regalclaw. Make it stronger, better. Isn’t that what we’ve always wanted, what we’ve fought for?”

“Not for this price.” The words caught in her throat as she continued. “Not if it means betraying everything we’ve sworn to protect.”

Skylar turned abruptly, her hand on the door handle. She needed to leave, to escape the suffocating tension in the room, to clear her head and think rationally about what Arye was proposing.

“Sky,” Arye’s voice stopped her, a note of vulnerability creeping in that she’d rarely heard before. “If I were to do it, would you be on my side?”

Her hand trembled on the handle. She should leave. She should report this treasonous talk immediately. It was her duty,her sworn oath. But the thought of betraying Arye, of standing against him…

Without turning around, she mumbled, “You know my answer. Why even ask?”

She didn’t wait for a response. Skylar wrenched the door open and left, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the corridor behind her.

22

The weight of Arye’s words pressed down on Skylar, each step echoing with the gravity of his proposition. Treason. The word tasted bitter on her tongue, a poison she couldn’t quite spit out. Her fingers absently traced the silken scarf of her riding attire, brushing against the tender skin beneath, ensuring Arye’s mark remained hidden.

Two guards eyed her nervously; their armor clinked softly as they shifted, as if they were unsure if they should approach her or not. Strange. As Skylar passed them, she caught a glimpse of them exchanging worried glances before averting their gazes.

Something was off.

As she rounded a corner, voices drifted from a nearby alcove, stopping her in her tracks. Her body instinctively pressed against the cool stone wall. The hushed tones carried an edge of urgency that piqued her curiosity.

“…faster engagement. He shows no interest in me.” Princess Quince’s voice, usually so controlled, held a note of frustration.

Skylar’s breath caught in her throat. She shouldn’t be listening, but her feet refused to move. After all, they were talking about Arye. The scent of Princess Quince’s overpoweringperfume—a sickly sweet floral concoction—wafted from the alcove, making Skylar’s nose wrinkle in distaste.

King Lyinell’s deep chuckle sent a chill through her. “Patience, my dear. These things take time. He will come around.”

“Will he?” The rustle of fabric, a soft gasp. “I’m beginning to wonder if I wouldn’t be better off pursuing… other options. A real man.”

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