Page 83 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

Skylar’s heart raced, its rapid beats echoing in her ears. She needed to leave, to put distance between herself and Arye before she said or did something to give herself away. “I should returnto Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess,” she murmured, beginning to retreat. “If you’ll excuse me, Your Highness?—”

“Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a request. Arye’s extended hand was an offer she couldn’t refuse without causing a scene. Skylar swallowed hard and placed her trembling fingers in his. Their touch sent a jolt of electricity up her arm, setting every nerve alight.

As Arye led her to the center of the ballroom, Skylar’s mind whirled. What was she supposed to do? How did noble ladies act around the Crown Prince? Should she make inane small talk? Giggle and bat her eyelashes? The realization that she had no idea how to navigate this situation as a woman struck her with terrifying clarity.

The music began—a slow, haunting melody echoing the turmoil in Skylar’s heart. Arye’s hand settled on her waist. The heat of his palm burned through her gown’s thin fabric. She kept her eyes fixed on a point just over his shoulder, afraid to meet his gaze. The scent of him—cedarwood and citrus—enveloped her, threatening to overwhelm her senses.

“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced,” Arye said after a moment of tense silence. “You must be new to court. Marquis Edwards’ fiancée, perhaps?”

Skylar’s step faltered, but Arye’s firm grip kept her from stumbling. “I… that is…” she stammered, unsure how to respond. “Is that how we appeared?”

A muscle in Arye’s jaw twitched. “You certainly seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. Two dances in a row is quite… telling.”

The implication in his words was clear. Indignation flashed through Skylar, quickly followed by confusion. “Sounds like you’ve been watching us,” she said before she could stop herself.

Arye’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening subtly. “I make it a point to be aware of everything that happens in my court.”

“Counting everyone’s dances is part of that?” she asked, unable to keep the challenge from her tone.

“Only the interesting ones,” Arye replied, his voice dropping even lower. The rumble of it sent shivers down Skylar’s spine. “And you, my lady, are very interesting.”

Skylar’s heart skipped a beat. Was he flirting with her? Or was this some kind of test? She hesitated, caught between maintaining her lady-like facade and responding naturally. Then a realization struck her—she wasn’t Duke Anathemark here, nor was she an insecure noblewoman. Why did she keep acting like someone she wasn’t? Hadn’t she left the palace to become herself in the first place? She had nothing to lose.

“I’m flattered, Your Highness.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “But surely the Crown Prince has more pressing matters to attend to than monitoring the dance cards of every lady at court.”

As the words escaped her mouth, exhilaration and alarm coursed through her. It felt so right, yet so dangerous. She held her breath, waiting for Arye’s reaction.

His eyebrows shot up, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “You’ve got quite the sharp tongue, haven’t you? I wonder where you learned that.”

“Perhaps I was born with it,” Skylar retorted, feeling more like herself with each passing second.

“Perhaps.” Arye’s gaze locked onto hers. “Your dress is… striking. I don’t believe I’ve seen its like before.” His attention dropped to the neckline of her gown, lingering there a moment too long before trailing down to where their bodies nearly touched.

As they turned, the room spinning around them in a dizzying whirl of color and light, Arye’s hand slid across her bare back. His fingers traced the curve of her spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Skylar couldn’t tell if the touch was intentional ornot, but it left her breathless all the same. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp, and Arye’s eyes darted to her mouth, darkening with an emotion she couldn’t name.

“Do you like it, Your Highness?” Skylar asked, her voice huskier than she intended. The words were bold, flirtatious in a way she’d never dared to be with Arye before. “I hear blue is quite fashionable this season.”

“On you?” Arye’s gaze traveled slowly down her body, then back up to her eyes. “I’d say it’s positively sinful.”

Heat bloomed in Skylar’s cheeks, spreading down her neck and chest. She was grateful for the dim lighting of the ballroom, hoping it would hide her blush. “Your Highness,” she admonished, though there was no real reproach in her tone. “Such talk could give a lady ideas.”

“Good,” Arye growled, the sound sending shivers down her spine. “I hope it does.”

Skylar’s breath caught. This was dangerous territory.

“So.” Arye’s voice dropped low and intimate. “Have you seen Duke Anathemark this evening? I was rather hoping to speak with him.”

Skylar’s throat went dry. “I’m afraid he couldn’t make it,” she managed to say, silently cursing the tremor in her voice.

“A pity,” Arye murmured, his lips curving into a smirk. “And here I thought he liked me.”

The words struck Skylar’s heart with the force of a dagger. She wanted to explain, to tell him everything, but the weight of her secrets pressed down on her like a physical thing.

“Does he occasionally mention me?” Arye’s tone was deceptively casual. His thumb traced small circles on her lower back, the touch so light it could have been accidental.

But Skylar knew better. Nothing Arye did was ever truly accidental.

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