Page 37 of Sky of Thorns

“I just made us invisible.” Nero answers as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, a quirk turning his lips into a smile. He relights the torch with a snap and continues down the path.

“What happened to, ‘I’m going to pretend you’re a prisoner being delivered to the queen’?” My tone is full of doubt, but I hurry, nevertheless, to keep up with his long strides. Pulling my cloak tighter around my body, I’m grateful for its thick warmth as the temperature has dropped several degrees in our descent.

“Plans change,” he says curtly. “Here, hold this.” Handing me the torch, he pulls out another set of keys as we reach an enormous rusty iron door. Based on the number of cobwebs and dust coating it, I doubt anyone has opened it in years.

“What other tricks and secrets do you have up your sleeves?” I raise a brow in question.

He peers over his shoulder, his teeth gleaming mischievously in the light of the fire. “How do ye feel about corpses?”

The air is cool and still as we step into the darkness. Nero firmly pushes the wooden door closed, creating a loud thud that reverberates through the abandoned room. The sound of our breathing punctuates the silence that follows the noise, amplified by the emptiness of the room. The sudden movement disturbs dust, filling the air with the scent of stale, musty earth. As the particles settle, the feeling of unease settles in as the darkness envelops us, illuminated only by the faint light seeping in through the cracks in the door. My senses heightened by the eerie atmosphere. I wave my arm, clearing the air before me. Three domed archways shape the large room, with one directly in front of us and two on our sides.

“Welcome to the crypt, lass,” Nero says with a flourish of his hand.

“A crypt,” I repeat flatly, turning to face him. “Why would you bring us toa crypt? There is nothing here exceptdeadends anddeadpeople.”

“Aye, well, that is where ye are wrong, Sybil.” He taps me on the nose and winks. “Luckily for ye, I happen to ken this particular crypt has a secret exit. When Aramis and I were little lads—“”

I shove my hands into his chest, my blood boiling with rage. Goddess, grant me the patience I need to deal with this bullshit.

“I don’t want to hear some story about when you and hisroyal highnesswere children. If you knew about the exit, why haven’t you freed my people?Ourpeople?“ I narrow my eyes at him as I shove him once more.

“Sybil–” Nero protests. “Come on. It’s just a—“

“How about we begin with why you have been assisting the arresting, and locking upour peoplein these dungeons in the first place?“ I let my fueled anger lace every word. He grips my forearm in argument and I buck out of his grasp. The audacity of this asshole is incredible. My horn materializes on my forehead, my vision slowly sharpening using the little magic I am able to conjure. My heart beats faster as adrenaline rushes through my veins, causing my hands to shake slightly as I continue to back away. But a wide smile spreads across my face, a mixture of shock and glee filling me as I revel in the comfort of my demi-form. It has been too long since I was in anything but my human shape, powerless and weak.

“Nae, Sybil, wait.” Nero lifts his hands into the air. Scales form along his arms and up his neck, a living armor. “This is incredibly complicated, and this takes more than just a moment of conversation. I need ye to work with me here. Please? Just listen for a moment, and if I don’t answer yer protests to yer satisfaction, ye can gouge me with that horn. I swear!”

Stepping back, I warily watch him. I still need him. I could get lost for hours or days if I tried to find the exit down here myself.

“Fine,” I say, each word enunciated. “Explain yourself. And make it quick. You don’t have a lot of time.” I stamp my foot, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

“Aramis doesn’t ken–” he pauses, his hands clenching at his sides “–yet.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t knowyet?”

“I didn’t ken I was half fire-drake until I was well into my maturity.” Nero pauses, making sure I’m still listening. I arch my brows in doubt.Well?“Ma mother was a fire mage, a well-respected lady in the court,” Nero continues. “My da was a traveling merchant and a draken. From what she says, it was love at first sight.”

I tap my toe impatiently on the floor. I love stories, but I have my people to free. Not to mention escaping.

“He begged her to go away with him, see the world, but she told him she had a role to play here in Shadowvale and to return to her to settle down. He died at sea during his final voyage. My mother did not even have a chance to tell him she was pregnant with me.” Nero patiently explains. I furrow my brow in concentration.Where is this going?

“Aramis’ mother was killed nearly a decade later, leaving us both without a parent, and essentially pushing us closer together. Rumors spread about a group of rebel shifters responsible for the assassination of the queen, wanting to overthrow the long line of Elemental rulers in Shadowvale and have a seat at the royal table. But as always, rumors come and go. Until, to the shock of the court, the king announced his engagement to Tricella, and coincidentally, wild accusations of shifters attacking villages started resurfacing, igniting the tension between elementals and shifters. When I began showing signs of my fire ability, everyone chalked it up to inheriting my mother’s powerful fire mage skills, but then I started exhibiting other odd abilities. My mother, in her attempt to protect me, told me everything about my father’s real identity and made me swear to keep it a secret. As you can imagine, halflings don’t have it easy in either community. By that time, Aramis and I were the best of friends. I was not only his deepest confidant, but sworn in to be his right hand.”

I nod my head in acceptance, prompting him to continue with his story.

“Aramis doesn’t ken my truth. For years, I was scared to tell him. How could I?” Nero laughs, clearly frustrated. He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. “The rebel group exists, Sybil, but it is not what Aramis believes it to be. It was created after Tricella became queen to protect the shifters fromherattacks, from her demonic monsters. As a lady of the court, my mother, Evangeline, was among the firsts to uncover Tricella’s machinations to stir chaos within the kingdom. She risked her life, her reputation, to warn the shifter community of Tricella’s use of dark magic. My mother was an extraordinary woman, Sybil.“ A subtle, tender smile plays on Nero’s lips, each word spoken with a gentle cadence, and I can feel his pain echo within my own heart.

“I’ve been working with the rebel group since my mother died twenty years ago, taking her place on their counsel. Despite being an Elemental, she had been deeply in love with a shifter and she had a halfling son, so she did everything she could to ensure I could live in a world where I would nae be persecuted for the natural color of my skin, or my race.” His final words are accompanied by a ripple of magic as his skin takes on a deep purple blue, glittering with scales. There is a delicate sadness in his eyes but also determination radiating like an unyielding flame.

“I ken ye believe Aramis is just like his father and stepmother, but I swear to ye Sybil, he isnothinglike them. His father was a great king until that witch Tricella came into the picture. All this mess. It’s her fault. She corrupted his mind, convinced him the shifters killed his wife and attempted to kill his son just so she could take his throne. Aramis has had nothing but Tricella’s poisonous words in his ears since he was a lad.“ Nero gently takes my hand and intently looks into my eyes. “But I see him, Sybil. I see the pain in his eyes every time we are sent to capture those innocent people. I just don’t know how to help him see past the years of lies and deceit.”

I know Nero is telling the truth, but changing Aramis’s mind is no longer my responsibility. Goddess knows, I have allowed him to break my trust too many times. Within my heart, I know he will accept the truth that is right in front of him, if he only allows himself to be his authentic self , for once. Not the Aramis tormented by his duty, but the loving man that helped an orphaned kid and took him under his wing. The Aramis that gently laid next to me with worshiping eyes and solemnly told me I was brave, at a time when I only felt weak and pathetic. But I can no longer sit and wait. My responsibility now lies with all those children, men and women, unjustly tortured in the dungeons.My people. All my life I have been looking for a purpose and for the first time, I know what to do and I am not scared.

“Help me escape. Take me to the rebels.”

Sybil

Walkingalongthedimlylit corridor, my fingertips brush against the rough, icy surface of the stone wall. A cloud of dust fills the air, tickling my nose and causing me to sneeze. The sound echoes down the empty hallway, bouncing off the walls and fading into silence. The musty smell of old stone and dampness permeates the air, making me feel as though I have stepped into a forgotten place. Despite the chill in the air, the wall is oddly comforting beneath my fingers, as if it holds secrets waiting to be discovered. Each room contains a single, large, white marble coffin. The air seems to twirl with an otherworldly energy.

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