Page 79 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

Skylar took his arm, the fabric soft under her fingers. “Oh? And here I thought you’d be in your element, charming the ladies and securing alliances.”

Marquis Edwards laughed, a rich sound that drew admiring glances from nearby guests. “You’ve caught me out. Though, I’d much rather secure an alliance with you than any of these other nobles.”

“My, my,” Skylar retorted, arching an eyebrow. “You move quickly, don’t you? We’ve barely met, and already you’re talking of alliances.”

“When one encounters a rare treasure, one must act swiftly,” he replied, his tone softening. “But I hope you’ll allow me the time to prove myself worthy of such an alliance.”

Skylar felt a pang in her chest. He was charming, certainly, and in another life, she might have been flattered by his attention. But every word, every gesture, only served to remind her of what—of who—she truly wanted.

“I’ve just realized,” Marquis Kaiden said suddenly, his brow furrowing slightly. “In all the excitement, I never caught your name.”

Skylar blinked, taken by surprise. “Oh,” she stammered, her mind racing. “You can call me Skye.”

She regretted it. But it was too late.

“Skye,” the Marquis repeated, savoring the word. “It suits you. As ethereal and lovely as the heavens themselves.”

The moment he said it, Skylar recoiled as if she’d been struck. A wave of nausea washed over her, so intense she feared she might be sick right there on the ballroom floor. The name sounded terrible in his mouth, a pale imitation of the way Arye’s voice caressed the syllable. She wanted to cry, to scream, to beg him never to utter it again. That privilege belonged to Arye and Arye alone.

Skylar opened her mouth to respond, but her words died on her lips as a sudden commotion near the entrance drew her attention. The crowd’s murmur rose to a fever pitch, excitement and anticipation crackling through the air like lightning. A group of nobles parted like a sea, their jewels and silks creating a kaleidoscope of color as they moved aside.

And then she saw him.

Arye.

Skylar’s breath hitched in her throat, a strangled gasp that she prayed was lost in the general commotion. He cut a dashing figure in his formal attire—a midnight jacket adornedwith intricate gold embroidery that caught the light with every movement, crisp white trousers that accentuated his long legs, and a burgundy cape with a fur collar that draped elegantly over one shoulder. The rich fabric seemed to ripple like liquid fire, drawing attention in the room.

His raven hair was styled impeccably, not a strand out of place. But it was his eyes that captured Skylar’s attention, holding her transfixed. Those storm-gray eyes scanned the ballroom with an intensity that made her heart race, seeming to pierce through the glittering facade of the ball to the tensions that simmered beneath.

“Quite the entrance,” Marquis Kaiden murmured, a hint of admiration in his voice. “The Crown Prince certainly knows how to command a room.”

Skylar nodded mutely, not trusting herself to speak. She watched as Arye made his way to the dais where King Lyinell stood, noting the tension in his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes that most would miss. Then she noticed her sword on his side. He still had it. The sight of the familiar weapon at his hip sent a jolt through her, a mixture of longing and possessiveness that left her breathless.

A hush fell over the ballroom as King Lyinell raised his hands for silence. His golden crown glinted in the candlelight, a stark reminder of the power he wielded. Skylar felt her mother tense beside her, her fingers digging into Skylar’s arm. Conley, sensing his mother’s distress, began to wail.

“Shh, shh,” the Dowager Duchess murmured, bouncing the infant gently. But Skylar could see the fear in her expression, the way her gaze dropped to the floor, trying not to get noticed by him.

King Lyinell broke the silence, his tone dripping with false warmth. “Esteemed guests,” he began, his eyes glittering with satisfaction. “We are gathered here not only to celebrate ourrecent victories but also to look to the future of our great kingdom.”

The King’s gaze swept across the assembled nobles, a benevolent smile on his face. “And now, I will turn things over to my son, Crown Prince Arye. He has some… exciting news to share.”

Skylar’s heart pounded as Arye stepped forward. Up close, she could see the subtle signs of strain—the furrowed brows, the ticking in his cheek, the slight tremor in his hands that he disguised by clasping them behind his back.

“Thank you all for coming,” Arye said, his voice deep and commanding, though Skylar detected a hint of tension beneath the surface. “Your presence here is a testament to the strength and unity of Regalclaw.”

He paused, and Skylar could have sworn his gaze lingered on her for a fraction of a second.

“As we look to secure our kingdom’s future,” Arye continued, his words measured and careful, “I am pleased to announce that I intend to choose my bride from among the ladies present here today.”

The ballroom erupted into a flurry of whispers and gasps. Skylar felt as though the floor had dropped out from beneath her feet. She was dimly aware of Marquis Kaiden saying something, his hand on her elbow, but the words were lost in the roaring of blood in her ears.

Bride. Arye was going to choose a bride. To parade her in front of Skylar’s eyes. She shouldn’t have come.

No, she mustn’t be so selfish. She should be happy for him, cheer for him. So why did this pain seem to tear her apart, worse than summoning the Gryphon?

“My lady,” the Marquis asked, brows furrowed with concern. “Are you alright?”

Skylar wanted to reassure him, to slip back into the role of the demure noblewoman. But as she met his concerned gaze, something within her snapped. The weight of her secrets, her longing, her fear—it all came crashing down in that moment.

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