Page 77 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

“You can handle it,” Skylar said, forcing a lightness into her tone. “You’ve faced worse than an annoying prince, I’m sure.”

As her mother laughed, Skylar’s gaze drifted back to the letters on her desk. To Arye’s pleas and demands. For a heartbeat, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to see him again. To stand before him not as Duke Anathemark, but as herself—Skylar, the woman he’d held in the moonlit garden.

It was still thrilling, though. To let Arye see her as she truly was. Let him see what he could never have. Even if he wouldn’t recognize her.

But no. It was time to forge a new path, even if it led her away from everything—and everyone—she’d ever wanted.

She was Skylar Anathemark, and she would bow to no one—not even her own heart.

32

The herald’s voice boomed across the opulent ballroom, echoing off marble columns and crystal chandeliers:

“Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess Anathemark, and Lord Conley Anathemark!”

Skylar’s stomach plummeted. They hadn’t mentioned her. No name, no title, not even as a guest. As if she didn’t exist.

Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding with an almost audible creak. She felt stripped bare, vulnerable in a way that she had never experienced before. As she descended the marble staircase beside her mother, the weight of countless stares pressed down upon her.

This was not how she had envisioned her return to the palace.

Were they looking at her? Or were their gazes drawn to her mother, resplendent after years of seclusion, with the tiny bundle of Conley nestled in her arms? Skylar felt exposed, acutely aware of every imperfection, real or imagined.

Her fingers twitched, longing for the familiar weight of a sword hilt. She’d trade this damned corset for her bindings in aheartbeat if it meant feeling the surge of power that came with being Duke Anathemark.

“Breathe, darling.” Her mother’s smile never faltered. “You look beautiful.”

Skylar managed a tight nod, her throat constricting around words she couldn’t voice. Beautiful, perhaps, but stripped of everything that had once made her powerful.

No, it wasn’t about the power or title. But they had allowed her to be herself, even if she hadn’t known it all these years.

The corset cinched her waist, the shoes pinched her toes, and the intricate arrangement of braids and curls pulled at her scalp with dull, persistent pain. She had traded one cage for another, and the bars of this one seemed to press closer with each passing moment.

Her mother lifted her hand to adjust a stray lock of Skylar’s hair. The complicated updo left her neck exposed, and Skylar suppressed a shiver as her mother’s fingers brushed against her skin.

“There,” the Dowager Duchess whispered. “Perfect.”

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Skylar noticed increased security measures. Guards were stationed at every doorway, their postures tense and alert. While the other nobles seemed oblivious, chattering and laughing, the metallic clink of armor was barely audible above the general din. But to Skylar’s trained ear, it spoke volumes about the heightened state of readiness.

Then, a flurry of motion caught her eye. Captain Knox stood near an entrance, whispering orders at a cluster of guards, their numbers far exceeding what was typical for such an event. The Captain’s face was flushed, a sheen of sweat visible on his brow despite the relative coolness of the large hall.

“Something’s not right,” Skylar murmured, more to herself than to her mother.

The Dowager Duchess followed her gaze. “You could ask them what’s going on,” she suggested.

Skylar shook her head, tamping down the instinct to take charge. The motion caused a tendril of hair to escape its pins, tickling her cheek. “No,” she said, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “That’s something a duke would do.”

As the words left her mouth, Skylar sensed a flutter deep within her chest. It was so faint she might have imagined it, but for a moment, she could have sworn she felt the Gryphon stirring. Before she could dwell on it, a snippet of conversation from nearby guards caught her attention.

“…still haven’t found her?”

Skylar’s eyes met her mother’s, and she saw the knowing look there. With a slight nod of encouragement from the Dowager Duchess, and plastering on her most charming smile, Skylar approached the men. “Pardon me,” she said, pitching her voice a bit higher than natural. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Is everything alright?”

The guards exchanged a wary glance before the smaller of the two answered. His eyes skimmed over Skylar dismissively, barely registering her presence. “Nothing to concern yourself with, my lady. You must have misheard.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, a flush of anger and embarrassment that burned beneath her skin. She realized how easily she had been brushed aside, her concerns dismissed without a second thought.

If they had known who she truly was, they would never have…

---