Page 64 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

Arye turned to the lone survivor, a young man cowering in a pool of his own urine, too terrified to even attempt escape. When Arye spoke, his voice was as cold and sharp as a midwinter icicle.

“You will deliver a message to your princess,” he said, each word dripping with venom. “Tell her that I’m coming for her, and if she has any sense at all, she’ll run. Though it won’t save her in the end.”

The man nodded frantically, his eyes wide with terror.

“Go,” Arye snarled. “Before I change my mind.”

He scrambled to his feet, nearly slipping in the blood-slicked cobblestones as he bolted down the alley. No one moved to stop him. The sound of his frantic footsteps echoed off the narrow walls.

“You,” Arye pointed at one of Captain Knox’s men, his armor still gleaming despite the grime of the alley. “Follow him. Make sure he delivers the message. Then dispose of him. Quietly.”

The soldier exchanged a glance with his captain, a flicker of unease passing between them. But he saluted, hurrying after the fleeing man. His footsteps faded into the distance, leaving an eerie silence in their wake.

Arye shifted his attention to Skylar, his expression softening as he approached her slowly. “Can you move?” he asked gently, offering his hand.

Skylar nodded, grateful for his support as she neared Blanche. The mare snorted softly and nudged her. “Thanks for bringing him here,” Skylar whispered as she touched the horse’s velvety muzzle. She noticed Blanche’s heaving sides and the lather of sweat on her coat. “You must have run so hard, girl. He was really in a rush to get here, wasn’t he?” The war horse nickered in response, as if confirming Skylar’s words.

“Your Highness,” Captain Knox said, his voice carefully neutral. “What are your orders?”

Arye’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. “Have your men clean this up and follow me,” he answered curtly. “I want no trace of what happened here. And Captain?” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “If I hear even a whisper of gossip about tonight’s events, I’ll hold you personally responsible. Understood?”

The Captain swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Arye turned back to Skylar, a flicker of worry passing over his face. “Can you ride?” he asked quietly.

Skylar nodded, not trusting her voice. The adrenaline was starting to fade, leaving her feeling weak and shaky. Her limbs felt leaden, each movement an exhausting effort that sent tremors of discomfort through her frame, but she gritted her teeth against it. She couldn’t afford to show weakness, not here. Not now. She had to be strong, for just a little longer.

“Good,” Arye said. He helped her onto Blanche’s saddle before swinging up behind her.

His arms encircled her waist, holding her steady. The warmth of his body against her back was both comforting and terrifying. Skylar found herself leaning into him, despite her better judgment. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, smell the metallic tang of blood mingled with his familiar scent of citrus and cedarwood.

“Where are we heading?”

“To the palace,” Arye replied, his breath hot against her ear. “I have some unfinished business there.”

27

The fetid air of the palace dungeon clung to Skylar’s skin, seeping through her torn and bloodstained clothes. Each step sent shockwaves of pain through her battered body, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to show weakness. The coppery tang of dried blood—her own, mingled with that of her attackers—lingered on her tattered garments, a grim reminder of the night’s horrors.

Arye’s determined stride led the way, his grip on Princess Quince’s arm white-knuckled. The princess stumbled, struggling to match his relentless pace, her once-pristine gown now a filthy, torn mess. Captain Knox and a handful of his men trailed behind, their armor clanking with each hurried step. Flickering torchlight cast long, dancing shadows on the stone walls, transforming the familiar corridors into a nightmarish labyrinth.

Skylar’s mind raced with conflicting emotions. Anger burned hot in her chest—at the princess for orchestrating the attack, at herself for being so vulnerable, at the world for its cruelty. Shame coiled in her gut, a poisonous serpent whispering of her weakness. She, who had faced down armies and controlled aDivine Beast, had been reduced to a trembling victim in that alley. The memory of those rough hands on her body made her skin crawl, and she fought the urge to scrub herself raw.

But beneath it all, a cold fear gripped her heart. Had Arye seen? In the chaos of the attack and rescue, had he noticed the bindings that concealed her true form? She studied his back, searching for any sign, any hint that he knew. But his focus remained solely on the princess, his jaw clenched so tight she could almost hear his teeth grinding.

“Your Highness,” Captain Knox ventured, his gravelly voice echoing off the stone walls. “Perhaps we should?—”

“Silence,” Arye snarled, not even bothering to look back.

Skylar exchanged a worried glance with the Captain. She’d rarely seen Arye like this, consumed by a cold fury that seemed to radiate off him in waves. It was a stark reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath his princely facade—one that mirrored her own.

They reached a heavy iron door, its hinges groaning in protest as Arye wrenched it open with his free hand. He unceremoniously hurled the princess into the cell. She stumbled, falling hard onto the dirty stone floor with a pained cry that echoed off the walls.

Princess Quince’s servants and guards, who had been herded along behind them, huddled together, their eyes wide with fear. One of the maids, a young girl with tear-stained cheeks, whimpered softly.

“What should we do with her retinue, Your Highness?” Captain Knox asked, his hand uneasily clutching the grip of his sword.

Arye’s lip curled in disgust. “Kill them for all I care.”

---