Page 76 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

Her mother’s expression grew distant, lost in memory. “He would be proud of you. But he would also worry, as I do.”

Her mother chuckled, tears sparkling on her lashes. Skylar raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden shift in mood.

“You know what he really would do?” The Dowager Duchess’s voice was warm with affection and amusement. “He would surely summon the Basilisk and try to intimidate the Crown Prince for laying his eyes on you.”

The image was so absurd, so perfectly in character for the father she remembered, that Skylar couldn’t help but join in the laughter. For a moment, the weight of expectations and duty lifted, leaving only the warmth of shared memories.

As their mirth subsided, Skylar felt a familiar ache in her chest. “I miss him.”

Her mother nodded. “The world can be cruel, especially to those who don’t conform.”

“The world can go hang itself,” Skylar muttered, earning a reproachful look from her mother.

“Skylar!”

“I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. She stood, unable to contain her restless energy anymore. “But I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. Of giggling at inane jokes and batting my eyelashes like some vapid courtier.” She sighed, reaching for a sword that was no longer at her hip. “It feels like I’m even less myself than before.”

“Is that how you see other women?” her mother asked, her tone carefully neutral.

Skylar hesitated, realizing how her words must have sounded. “No, of course not,” she backtracked, pacing the lengthof the room. “I just… I don’t understand how they can stand it. The constant expectations, the need to be delicate and demure all the time.”

“Not everyone feels trapped by those expectations,” her mother said gently, her voice filled with hard-won wisdom. “For some, it’s a comfortable role. For others, it’s a necessary compromise.”

“Well, I’m done compromising,” Skylar declared, standing abruptly. She began to pace, her movements sharp and agitated. “I won’t be ‘Lady Skye’ anymore, curtsying and smiling to every man who deigns to notice me.”

“Skylar,” her mother’s voice was soft but firm. “I understand your frustration. But there are consequences to defying societal norms.”

“I know that,” Skylar snapped, immediately regretting her tone. She closed her eyes briefly, forcing herself to calm down. “I’m sorry, Mother. I just… I feel like I’m suffocating. Like I’m losing myself in this new role.”

Her mother’s gaze softened with understanding. “Oh, my darling. Come here.”

Skylar hesitated before moving to kneel beside her mother’s chair. The Dowager Duchess shifted Conley to one arm, using her free hand to stroke Skylar’s hair.

“You are not losing yourself,” the Dowager Duchess said firmly, her voice brimming with conviction. “You are discovering a new part of yourself. It may be uncomfortable, even painful at times, but it doesn’t erase who you are at your core.”

Before Skylar could respond, her mother reached into a hidden pocket in her gown, producing a folded piece of parchment. She placed it on the small table between them, and Skylar’s breath caught at the sight of the familiar red wax seal—the Clawborne crest.

“Another invitation,” her mother explained, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “To the Crown Prince’s ball. I swear, they arrive daily now. The poor servants are running themselves ragged, returning each one with the Duke’s regrets.”

Skylar’s fingers itched to reach for the letter, to trace the lines of the seal and imagine Arye’s hand pressing it into the wax. She resisted the urge, her voice carefully neutral as she spoke. “But I declined weeks ago.”

The Dowager Duchess laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Oh, my dear. As if that would stop a Clawborne. They’re nothing if not persistent.”

Skylar’s mind raced. The ball. A chance to see Arye again, even if only from afar. The thought both thrilled and terrified her. Would he recognize her? Would she be able to maintain her composure in his presence?

“Do you want to go?” her mother asked gently.

Skylar hesitated, torn between longing and fear. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Marquis Edwards will be there, won’t he?”

The Dowager Duchess nodded. “Most likely. But Skylar,” she leaned forward, her voice earnest, “you have a choice. You could attend as the Duke, if you wish. Or as a lady. Either way, you’ll always be under my protection. Remember, we’re still the highest-ranking family besides the Clawbornes.”

A mischievous glint appeared in the Dowager Duchess’s eye. “You could make them all kneel if you wanted to,” she said with a wink. “If anyone objects, send them my way. Just be yourself.”

Skylar felt laughter bubble up, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For giving me the choice.”

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “I’ll go,” she decided. “As a lady. It’s time I moved on with my life, isn’t it?”

Her mother’s smile was tinged with sadness. “If that’s what you truly want,” she said. “Though I warn you, this will likely mean even more invitations. That friend of yours can be quite… persistent.”

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