Page 73 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

“A cousin?” The King’s voice was silky smooth but concealed a lethal intent. “How curious. I wasn’t aware the Anathemark line had any eligible cousins of suitable rank.”

Skylar felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine. “A distant relation, Your Majesty. On my mother’s side.”

She risked a glance at Arye, but his expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the Marquis with an intensity that made her skin prickle with unease.

The King’s gaze shifted back to the Marquis. “And where do your travels take you next, Marquis?”

A hint of excitement crept into Marquis Edwards’s voice. “I plan to remain in Regalclaw for a time, Your Majesty. But I confess, I harbor dreams of visiting Waterdice one day.” He glanced briefly at Skylar before returning to the King. “Perhaps with my future wife and children, if the fates are kind.”

Skylar felt Arye stiffen beside her. She kept her gaze resolutely forward, afraid of what she might see if she met his eyes. Her stomach twisted at Marquis Edwards’s words, nausea welling up inside her. She fought to keep her expression neutral, even as her mind raced with panic. The thought of being tied to this man, of bearing his children, sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the cool air of the throne room.

King Lyinell’s eyebrows rose. “An ambitious destination. I’ve heard tales of its underwater marvels, though I’ve never had the pleasure myself.”

The Marquis nodded enthusiastically. “The stories barely do it justice, Your Majesty. I’ve spoken with merchants who’ve seen it firsthand—entire cities built beneath the waves, protected by ancient magics. It’s said the coral reefs glow with an inner light, and the fish swim in patterns so complex they form living tapestries.”

As Marquis Edwards spoke, Skylar became captivated despite her reservations. There was a passion in his voice, a genuine wonder that was undeniably appealing. She could almost see the underwater kingdom he described, feel the cool embrace of its magical waters.

“You paint quite the picture, Marquis,” Arye cut through the Marquis’s description. “But surely a man of your… experience… must have thoughts on matters closer to home. What’s your take on the current tensions with Thorncrest?”

The Marquis turned to face Arye, his expression growing thoughtful. “A complex situation, Your Highness. Thorncrest’s aggression is concerning, of course, but I believe there may be room for diplomatic solutions.”

Arye’s eyes narrowed. “Diplomatic solutions? After their attempts on my life?”

“Perhaps especially because of that,” Marquis Edwards replied, his tone measured. “Sometimes, when backed into acorner, even the most vicious animal will seek peace rather than risk mutual destruction.”

Skylar watched the exchange with growing unease. There was a dangerous glint in Arye’s eye, a coiled tension in his posture that spoke of barely restrained violence.

“An interesting perspective,” Arye said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And how would you suggest we proceed, Marquis? Extend an olive branch while they sharpen their knives?”

The Marquis remained unperturbed by Arye’s poorly disguised hostility. “Not at all, Your Highness. I would advise we strengthen our defenses, solidify our alliances, and then approach negotiations from a position of unassailable strength. Peace through power, if you will.”

A tense silence fell over the hall. Skylar held her breath, acutely aware of the hungry gazes of countless courtiers eager for any sign of discord.

Finally, Arye nodded, a hint of grudging respect in his expression. “A nuanced approach, Marquis. Perhaps there’s more to you than flowery words and grand adventures after all.”

“You honor me, Your Highness. I look forward to further discussions on the matter, should you desire my input.”

As the Marquis took his leave, Skylar felt torn between relief and regret. She had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that the Marquis was not only handsome but intelligent and diplomatic as well. He was indeed a suitable partner; they shared at least a similar sense of diplomacy. Yet the thought of a life with him didn’t feel right.

Her thoughts were interrupted by King Lyinell’s voice, pitched low for Arye’s ears. “A fine match, that Marquis,” he mused. “Uniting the Edwards and Anathemark houses would be quite the coup. Gold and power—a potent combination.”

Skylar’s heart stuttered in her chest, a haunting unease settling in her stomach. She tried to discern Arye’s thoughts, but his face was an impenetrable mask, giving nothing away. She longed to know what he was thinking, to understand the emotions churning behind those storm-gray eyes.

“A ball,” Arye cut in, slicing through the tension.

King Lyinell blinked, caught off guard. “I beg your pardon?”

“We should host a ball,” Arye repeated, his tone brooking no argument. There was a glint in his eye that Skylar recognized—the look he got when formulating a particularly daring battle strategy. “To celebrate our recent victories, to boost morale. To showcase the strength of Regalclaw to our allies and enemies alike.” His gaze flickered briefly to where Marquis Edwards stood, deep in conversation with a group of nobles.

King Lyinell stroked his chin, considering. “An interesting proposal,” he conceded. “When did you have in mind?”

“Next week,” Arye said without hesitation.

A burst of laughter escaped the King before he could stop it, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. “My boy, that’s impossible. Even a month would be pushing the limits of what’s feasible.”

Arye’s jaw set stubbornly. “Next month, then.”

King Lyinell studied his son for a while before nodding slowly. “Very well,” he agreed. His gaze shifted to Skylar, a predatory gleam in his eyes that made her feel uncomfortable. “I would love to see the Dowager Duchess Anathemark. It’s been far too long since she graced our court with her presence.”

---