Page 41 of Sky of Thorns

“Not now, Nero. I just… need a moment,” I mutter, pressing my fingertips against my brow. The moment I close my eyes, all I can see is the vision of her hazel eyes peering at me with hatred, like I was the most vile creature in the world. Why can’t she see that I am only trying to defend and protect my people.

“Aramis,” he says urgently.

I stand, ready to take action.“The longer we stall, the more she will take it out on you or that poor boy. Or one of her many other servants.”

“There is something I need to talk to ye about.” He begins again, stepping into my path.

“It has to wait.” Walking around him, I grab my cloak from a peg on the wall and sling it over my shoulder. “Let’s go see what she wants so we can get back to defending this kingdom.”

Nero lowers his gaze and nods in acceptance.

“Yes, yer majesty.” He replies quietly, falling behind me. I briefly glance back at him. His face is a mask of calm except for the furrow of his brows and the frown that tugs at his lips. A hint of guilt pains my chest as I wonder if I am as good a friend to Nero as he is to me. I make a silent promise to talk to him and find out what is causing him to worry so much. We only have each other left in this world.

***

As we enter the throne room, I reluctantly bow before the King and Queen. “Father, Tricella. You summoned me?” I raise my head and look at my father’s face. He gazes at the empty corridor with a glassy, faraway look, lost into the distance where dust motes float in a beam of sunlight shining through the colored glass window panes. The last years have not been kind to him, deep lines now crease his face. Long gone is the man that taught me how to ride a horse, laughing uncontrollably as I struggled to balance, whilst mother painted in the garden, her loving eyes following us with apprehension. I’ve watched him slowly disintegrate, pulling further into himself, his grief forever clawing at him, intensifying like ever-growing weeds in a garden of despair as I simply stood there, powerless.

The tapping of fingernails on the marble throne draws my attention back to my stepmother. Her lips pinch in displeasure.

“I have another task for you,” she commands coldly.

Great goddess, what could she possibly want now? I study her face; her smooth, porcelain skin, and the way her long hair shines as it curls around her face and body. Even as my father looks beyond his age, Tricella is more youthful, more delicate in physique.Hasn’t she looked particularly glowing sinceyou brought me to your castle?Sybil’s words echo in my mind once again, and I shake my head. My jaw clenches in a silent struggle against the tumultuous emotions threatening to unravel my carefully constructed world..

“How can I be of service?” I rise from where I kneel on the floor. I allow a hint of smugness to tug the corner of my lips, knowing it will infuriate the woman standing in front of me. There was a time, when I was just a boy desperate to fill the void his mother had left, where I desperately tried to win Tricella’s affection, hoping she could replace what I had lost. I soon realized, however, that she was just like one of those monsters I used to read about, but dressed in the finest silks and with the face of an angel, and you never trust a monster.

“A certain important prisoner of mine has escaped.” Tricella says. Lifting a hand, lazily inspecting her nails. She flicks an imaginary dust mote to then glances at Kieran. He kneels before her, head bowed on the hard marble floor beside her like a dog on a leash, utterly pathetic.

“You have many prisoners,” I reply in a bored tone, but my heart pounds and my gut clenches.This cannot be real. “How could a prisoner possibly escape? All of our magical fortifications are renovated. We’ve doubled the guards and completed repairs to the outer walls that were damaged from last year’s winter storms. There isn’t a single way in or out of the castle that isn’t known about and constantly monitored.” Except possibly the secret exit outside my mother’s resting place. But only three people know about it; my father, Nero, and myself.

“Now isn’t that the very question I’ve been asking myself,” Tricella replies, her words laced with accusation as she leans forward in her throne, staring me down.

I laugh at the incredulous unspoken accusation. “What?” I wipe my hand over my mouth, clearing away all humor. “Who has escaped?”

“The very acquisition you brought to me just weeks ago.” Tricella glares at me, attempting to pierce my heart with ice daggers.

I maintain a façade of indifference, masking the complex swirl of emotions beneath my stoic exterior.She is free. She is free… but is she safe?My mind races, conjuring all the possible places she could be. I force my body to stand still and maintain my regal posture, but all I want to do is run.

“Are youaccusing meof helping her escape? After all I went through to retrieve her?“ I bristle with demand at the unspoken charge.Cover your relief. Don’t let her see.I raise my brows in disbelief.

“Well, I wouldn’t have thought so, but then Kieran here informed me of an interesting encounter you two had last night?” She leans back in her chair, lacing her fingers as her lips curl into a wicked feline sneer. “From what I have heard, you were holding her in a very… protective manner,” Tricella adds and I need to stop myself from unsheathing my sword and killing Kieran here and now. “I cannot even imagine what your poor mother would have said if she knew you were fraternizing with the very people that killed her!” Her words slice open an old wound and I can see my father flinch at the mention of her. I take another deep breath, my fists clench at my sides. I know what game she is playing, but she won’t get the reaction she is hoping for this time around.

“Your prisoner would have escaped last night had I not stopped her running through the castle unsupervised,” I spit in Kieran’s direction, and vow that I will take my revenge when the time is right. “Can’t Kieran just look for her once his little headache is over?” .

“Kieran is working on other matters for me,” she says dismissively. “You and Nero shall go and fetch the unicorn for me. I want her back. She belongs to me. This time, make sure she isn’t able to escape.” Her voice drops threateningly. She waves a servant over who hastens to bring her a goblet of wine, dismissing me. I ignore the tug in my gut, willing me to shout back at her that she ismine.

“What do you plan to do with her when we return?” I challenge her, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword. “Why are there countless shifters still locked in the dungeons instead of being sent north?” I fix my gaze upon Tricella, determination burning in my eyes and demanding the truth. I can sense Nero tensing behind me, his knuckles white on the marble floor, reading to intervene should things escalate. This is the first time I’ve openly questioned her, in complete disregard of the consequences. Even my father turns his gaze on me.

Tricella’s cold, calculating eyes meet mine over the rim of her goblet as she sips her wine.“What did you say to me?” The tingle of magic fills the air as she slams the goblet on the arm of the throne, the ruby red liquid staining the cream sleeve of her gown and skirt.

“Don’t fucking play coy now, Tricel—“ I explode, no longer able to keep hold of my anger.

“Howdareyou! You impertinent boy,“ Tricella screams, and as she stands in protest, she unleashes her magic with a blast. The throne room trembles with ominous energy and panic ripples through everyone present. Their faces contorted with fear, unsure of what to do. The air crackles with an otherworldly power, but I do not yield. I square my shoulders in defiance, sword drawn.No more, I think to myself. Nero tries to reach me but with one swift hand motion, Tricella sends him flying across the room.Her magic pulsates in the air like a poison; draining the world of its energy.

“You have been a thorn in my side since the day I entered this castle.” The queen takes a step in my direction and as she comes closer, I see dark purple veins pulsating along her forearms, but as I ready myself to confront her once more, a faint voice cracks my growing fury.

“Aramis.” My father’s voice speaks, rusty with disuse. He stands unsteadily and then lifts an arm and lays it on Tricella’s forearm. “Enough. Do as your stepmother requests. You must stop the threats to our kingdom.”

I watch as he wearily sinks back into his throne, a mix of hate and sorrow clenching my heart. The sound of his strained voice echoes through the room. “I’ll take you out for a ride when you’re done with your studies,” he then mutters, so silently that I question if I have imagined the words. His face contorts in pain, sweat glistening on his forehead, and I furrow my brow in concern. Can grief alone cause a man to wither this much?

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