Page 20 of Sky of Thorns

Aramis,

Hasten your return delivering the prisoner.

The rebel shifters will be attacking Larnwick in two days. You are

to leave and deal with the attack when you return.

-Queen Tricella

The paper crumples under my hands as I throw it at the fire. I slam a fist on the table in frustration. The sound of my heartbeat fills my ears as I seethe in anger.

“Bad news, yer majesty?” Nero inquires as he lifts an eyebrow in my direction.

“Don’t be facetious, Nero.” I push back from the table and begin pacing the room. “The queen requests wehastenour return to deliverherprisoner so that we can handle a rebel group that is going to attack another village close to the capital. As if she’s not the one who sent us on this fool’s mission in the first place.”

“Does she think we travel on magical flying horses?” He snorts with derision. “Why doesn’t she send some of her precious lackeys to do her bidding?”

Nero is interrupted by a knock on the door frame. The tavern owner’s daughter enters the room with a tray laden with food and two chilled mugs of ale. Just like she did with the tray of soaps and oils, the woman seductively lowers her chest as she serves us our dinner, giving both me and Nero quite the spectacle. I roll my eyes, her constant advances now pushing on my last nerves. I am the prince of Shadowvale. She is a mere poor peasant–well beneath me. Beyond the fact that this is neither the time, nor the place to accept such advances, her family should be grateful that we frequent their establishment at all.

Finishing her task, Odetta… Olivia - or whatever her name is, turns and curls a blonde lock around her finger as she peers at me through hooded eyes.

“Prince Aramis, if there isanythingelse I can be of—”

“Leave us.” I cut her off. I don’t need another female to complicate my life.. A sigh leaves my lips at the sight of her fallen features.A prince never regards its subjects as beneath him Aramis. Only because the Gods have chosen a different path for them does not mean they are not your equals.My mother’s words come flashing back with a wave of sadness. She taught me better than that. “I’m sorry,” I quickly add, and pull a few gold coins from my pocket and hold them out to her. The maiden slips them between her breasts, a hint of a coy smirk curling at the corners of her lips. I may be an asshole sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I have to be heartless. I invite her once again to leave the room and say, “Please see that my men get more ale and food."

“Yes, your majesty. You need only call if there is anything else I can do to ease your evening.” Her lips press into a thin line while curtseying, hips swaying exaggeratingly on her way out.

Nero lets out a low whistle and leans back in his chair. Taking a deep drag from his chilled mug, he nods toward the open door. “That one is relentless.” Nero beams. “It’s unfortunate she’s nae my type.” Setting down his mug, he grabs a chicken leg from his plate and takes a large bite.

“We have more important matters at hand than fraternizing with the serving staff,” I reply rather stiffly, sitting back in my chair. I run a hand helplessly through my already disheveled hair. The food wafting up from the plate before me looks delicious, but my stomach churns at the thought of eating. The weight of my duty as crown prince gets progressively heavier the closer we are to Shadowvale. I try to remind myself that I have no control over Sybil’s fate, that disclosing information regarding the crown is the best I can do to help her. A voice whispers in my head,you should not be wanting to help her, she is shifter scumand part of me can’t help but instinctively agree. But then I think about Sybil…

I clear my throat and interrupt my thoughts. “What are we going to do about this rebel group? They’re always two steps ahead of us. By the time we reach Larnwick, they’ll have moved on.”

“Well, if Kieran has seen the rebels attacking Larnwick, we could still potentially reach and set up forces before they attack. His visions are of the future, not the present.” He waves the half-eaten leg bone at me in emphasis.

“What’s the use of a seer–” I exclaim, releasing my frustration onto the table by slamming my fist on it, “If his bloody visions are always late? Queen Tricella can’t even get a decent seer on her court. I’ll never understand how my father thought she’d make a fit queen.” I pick up my ale and take a sip.

“Who knows what kind of massacre will be awaiting us once we reach Larnwick. The last rebel attack in Walden killed over three hundred brave Elementals. No survivors left. I am so goddamn tired of all this bloodshed. I assure you, theonlything left in Larnwick by the time we get there will be stragglers and children.“ The silverware clangs as it dances to my fury. The image of Edmund crying over his mother’s corpse is still fresh in my mind.

“Mmhh,” Nero mutters, lost in his thoughts.

“What now?” I ask, knowing the wheels in his mind are turning by the way he is scratching his chin contemplatively.

“Isn’t Larnwick one of the few villages in all of Shadowvale where Shifters and Elementals peacefully coexist? Like… What was the name of that other village, Astrakane? Which was also ransacked about a month ago?”

“Indeed. I can still hear the screams of the few survivors we found at Astrakane. So many dead or missing… both Shifter and Elementals.” I pause. Why had the shifters killed their own? I could see a few casualties or accidents from the destruction of the town, but outright killing their own made no sense.

“Have ye ever wondered why the towns are empty like ghost towns, while others are left with death and destruction of both kinds?” Nero asks, tentatively.

“Of course I ask myself that!” I growl in frustration. He always had a knack for reading my mind. “I’ve been over the situation a hundred times or more. It just doesn’t make sense. Unless…”

“What's on yer mind, mate?” he asks.

“What if…” I meet his eyes across the table and speak, a fear festering in my gut. “What if not all shifters support the rebellion?” The thought of Sybil valiantly defending her innocence makes me sick to my stomach for not believing her. All those shifters, women and children alike, I had taken to Shadowvale for questioning, certain they would have information about their own kind. I lower my head and voice words I never thought I would pronounce. “Maybe I’ve been so blinded by my own vendetta to not see that some shifters are just victims in this story?”

I replay the aftermath of all the villages that had been attacked with this new theory in mind. If the shifters’ reason for rebelling is the unfounded accusation that the crown is endangering the Shifter community within Shadowvale, why would they kill their own kind during these raids? Did they maybe consider the casualties supporters of the crown? Deserving of death for not joining the rebellion? The questions keep multiplying in my head, and I wonder how we prove the veracity of this assumption.

Nero studies me before he responds. “Ye know that ye must walk yer own path, Aramis. Ye decide who ye want to be and what ye want to believe in.” He leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his hands. His massive frame casts his shadow to creep over the wood of the table from the candle behind him.

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