Page 14 of Sky of Thorns

“Sybil, look at me.” His voice is a rolling wave, powerful and commanding as he stands up and grabs my wrist.

“Let go of me,” I whisper vehemently as I tug out of his grasp.

“Sybil, wait…” Aramis’ voice is still cold and commanding, but it’s softened. He sighs, continuing, “I hate everything about your kind. It’s true–or at least it feels like it’s true. I even want to hate you. But—” He shakes his head and takes an unsteady step towards me, which I respond by taking a step backwards.

“But why!?” I demand, reliving old frustrations.

Aramis purses his lips, refusing to respond to my commentary. He studies me, like I’m a puzzle he can’t solve. And this time my patience ebbs.

“Let me tell you one thing, Prince Aramis of Shadowvale. Your inability to distinguish between some questionable shifters and the whole goddamn shifter population is not my issue. The fact that you are unsure whether you hate me or not, shows that you are not thinking with your own head. Make up your own mindPrince, stop being blinded by the lies they have been feeding you and most importantly, stop being so bloody indecisive!” My voice is escalating to near shouting levels with all my anger. “I’m tired of your hot and cold behavior. You are so out of touch with your emotions you wouldn’t be able to recognise happiness even if it stood right in front of you!” I place my hands on my hips, desperate to prevent myself from hitting him and raising his ire.

“I have a duty that must be upheld to my people, my kingdom, and my father. I am the high prince of Shadowvale, and will do what is required of me,” he says unconvincingly as he taps a finger at his chest in emphasis. “I am not the bad guy here, Sybil.”

“Youkidnapped me from my home,” I say with a note of finality. “Maybe you are not the bad guy in your story, but you are the villain in mine.”

Aramis rolls his eyes at me, and we’re back to square one. Any sort of progress we’ve made has evaporated. “The order to bring you to Shadowvale is not my command, but the King and Queen. I swear to you,” he replies, almost on a groan. Aramis runs his fingers through his hair with frustration, takes a few steps towards me then abruptly stops, and stands rigid.

“Then let me go. I have proved to you that I have no ties to the rebels, they must have made a mistake. Let me go back to my life,” I hiss with anger. The fire in my chest quickly simmering to a smoldering hate as I glare at him.

“You know I can’t do that,” he says with a decisive tone that leaves no room for argument.

My hands tighten into fists and my heart races. “You might not know if you despise me, but I do. I hate you, Aramis. I hate you for stealing me away. I am exhausted. I haven’t bathed in days. I miss my bed. I miss my home.” These tired truths are slowly killing me.

“Well–you could…” Aramis breaks off his thought, unsure.

“What?”

“You could use my sleeping roll. It’s the least I can offer after you’ve saved Edmund’s life.”

I bark out unexpected laughter–and Aramis glares in my direction like he wishes death upon me. “–I owe you a debt. And it’s far better than what you have.” He points towards the sleeping form of Edmund laying on my pack and cloak. Frustration flares in his eyes as he watches me back away from him.

A wild laugh escapes my lips once more, and my eyes roll at the absurdity of sharing the same sleeping space with him. Sitting on a horse all day with him is bad enough.

“You have utterly lost your mind if you think I’m going to share a bedroll with you.” I giggle.

“Fine.” His mouth sets into a frown as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Fine!” My heart beats wildly in my chest and I have this overwhelming sensation that I might just leap out of my own skin. I stomp over to the fire and lay down on the hard ground, cradling my head under my arm. I hate him. I repeat the words endlessly in my head but no matter how many times I think them, there’s a part of me that refuses to make them sound true.

***

Rays of sunlight filter through the trees above, mingling with the sounds of breaking camp. Stretching, I slowly rouse to consciousness, the memories of last night causing me to squeeze my thighs together and pull the thick warm cedarwood scented cloak further over my head.

Wait… this isn’t my cloak.

I quickly push the heavy cloth off my body and instantly regret the quick movement. I ignore my body’s protests as I stretch out my stiff muscles, reaching down to touch my toes before standing up to go check on my patient.

Edmund has survived the remainder of the night. Once I am sure the stitches are secure and the bandages firmly in place without new signs of infection, I put the spare supplies back in the medical bag. The young boy looks warily at me as I bring him a steaming cup of willow bark tea.

“This will help you with your pain,” I say, my lips pressing into a thin line.

“Thank you,” he says begrudgingly, then grimaces as he takes a sip. “Ugh, this is terrible. Are you trying to poison me?”

“I’m sorry I have nothing sweet to cut down the bitterness, but it should ease your suffering without affecting your ability to ride.” I instinctively reach out and check the pulse at his wrist as I watch him drink the bitter brew.

“I don’t suppose I could add a dash of Dark Starlight to it? If it has to taste so bitter at least it could have a good kick.” He raises his eyebrows in amusement with a chuckle but his cordial affect fades to a stony expression as a shadow drifts over us.

“It looks like you are in good enough spirits to continue on, Edmund?” Aramis moves forward to inspect the boy with a stern face. But it only lasts a second as Aramis immediately kneels next to the boy. “You scared me to death, you little idiot,” he says with a relieved grin and tousles Edmund’s already unruly hair.

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