Page 17 of Sky of Thorns

“Those born with the gift of healing magic, or the will to train in the art of healing, apprentice with senior healers,” he replies. “It’s one of the things I love about Shadowvale. Everyone has a purpose.”

“What else do you love so well about your province?” I ask, encouraged by this engaging conversation. But Aramis sighs, a touch of sadness in his voice.

“What?” I ask, frustrated. “What did I say now?”

“I shouldn’t be talking to you… like this, Sybil,” he whispers in my ear, careful his men cannot hear us. “You are my prisoner. And I know none of the evidence seems to suggest that you are working with the rebels, but no matter how much I’d like to know more about you, about your life... I can’t.” His tone is softer than usual, but I still bristle at his words.

“All I want is to have a peaceful conversation to pass the time,” I snarkily reply. “We’ve been on the roadforever.I haven’t slept in a proper bed, taken a hot bath, or eaten a hot meal at a table since Bolide eve!“ Why does this always happen? I groan internally. We make an inch of progress with little satisfaction, and then Aramis always recoils from any trust we build.

Silence meets me.

“If you don’t want to hold a conversation with me, perhaps have me ride with one of the other guards–”

“No,” Aramis says, his arms stiffen, pressing my back further against his chest, setting off a whirl of emotions. “You will ride with no male except me.”

“Do you not trust them?” I inquire.

“I trust them with my life,” he replies without hesitation.

“But?” The unspoken words hang between us. He doesn’t trust me. I close my eyes, focusing on the rhythm of the stallion’s hooves rhythmically cantering down the path.

Silence stretches between us before he sighs behind me, one of his arms releasing the reins to slide in front of me. My heart and breath speed at the close contact of the gentle weight of his forearm pressed against my waist.

“You don’t trust me.” I state flatly, and my heart aches, more than I’d have ever thought it could, at the words of a stranger.

“I don’t trustanyshifters,“ Aramis says contemptuously, and before I can respond, he adds with a whisper, “I am sorry.” Taken aback by the sincerity in his voice, I stay silent.

The gravity of my situation crashes on me with uncomparable might. These last few days had seemed to be the answer to my prayers for a life full of adventure and purpose. Like one of the heroes in my books, I stood up to my captors, tried to escape, fought a chimera and showed the grumpy Prince that even a damsel in distress can be a pain in his arse. But there was never going to be a happy ending waiting for me at the end of this journey. No matter how many times I crack Aramis’s tough exterior, he is still my captor, and he will deliver me to the king and queen, just like he’s been ordered to.

“I get it,” I reply softly. “You know Aramis, I might be the one that was kidnapped from her home, but I have a feeling you are a prisoner just as much as I am.” He tenses behind me but I do not dare turn around to read his expression. “I am not a fool, Prince. I know I have lost all my chances at escape. I will face the King and Queen of Shadowvale and prove to them that I am innocent. Goddess knows that if there’s anything the time shared with your lot has taught me, it’s that I have to stand up for myself. I am done being shackled by fear.” I straighten my back, suddenly more confident as I have spoken those words into existence.

“You are brave, Sybil,” he says after a moment, and I notice he has stopped calling me prisoner, or shifter…

I sit in stunned silence, unsure how to respond to his sudden comment. Brave? I scoff internally at myself. If I was brave, I would have packed my bags for Nova Esther years ago and be neck deep in my studies at this point. But, I am not the girl I was five or even ten years ago.

Aramis straightens behind me, his grip loosening on the reins before us. “Queen Tricella is not my favorite person. She married my father shortly after the death of my mother.” He pauses, releasing a deep exhale before continuing. “Shortly after she was crowned queen consort, the rebel attacks started to become more violent. Be wary of her. She is power hungry and vicious. The Queen also has a court seer. He is just as bad as she is, don’t trust any of them. His visions are supposed to help us catch the shifters before they attack the villages, but every time he gives us directions, we’re always too late and innocent people are already dead. Nero and I have been studying the shifter rebel attacks that have happened in Shadowvale for the past 100 years. We have studied their modus operandi, tried to find diplomatic ways to end the bloodshed, but I keep thinking there is something we are missing… something lurking in the shadows that we are yet to discover. According to some indiscretion, there might even be different groups of rebels. Some acting more violently than others. The last towns we were sent to, the destruction felt… different–”

“Why are you telling me this?” Cold fear coils in my gut. How am I supposed to appeal to monarchs of a kingdom who have been attacked repeatedly by shifters for over a century?

Aramis leans forward, his voice barely a whispered caress against my ear, “I have made it evident that I do not love shifters. But I am not a cruel male. I do not delight in the torture of innocents. I might not be able to free you, but I can help you reach the dais in the throne room knowing who you are fighting against.”

His sudden change in demeanor shocks my system, but I will take any advantage I can get to plead my case to his kingdom. And maintain this fragile change in our relationship. I whisper, “Tell me more.”

Sybil

Webreakpasttheforest’s edge and emerge into a field of flowers in shades of blue and purple as far as I can see. As storm clouds gather above us, the sky becomes a living painting with shades of gray and lilac. The heavy smell of petrichor fills my lungs. I always looked forward to the sweet, yet slightly musty, earthy scent that preceded a rainstorm, but this time, so far away from the safety of my cottage, I am dreading it.

“Let’s hope these clouds hold off fo’ an hour or two longer,” Nero says as he reins his stallion closer to our right. He looks up, studying the sky. “It looks like they are getting heavier by the minute, though. That chill in the air suggests we might be in for a bitterly cold and rough ride.”

“We should be able to reach Lunaris before nightfall if—“ Aramis pauses as a streak of lightning dances across the sky, followed seconds later by the loud rumble of thunder.

My eyes widen in surprise as a raindrop splashes across my face. A half dozen more pepper my arms before I cover myself in with the protection of my cloak.

“Shit.” Aramis whistles and gestures to the rest of the group, the water wetting his blonde hair. “We ride on. There is no shelter from here until we get to Lunaris. If we hasten, we may make it there before the rain makes the ground impassable.”

My mind goes to Edmund’s wounds. Worry creasing my forehead at the thought of a rough ride tearing at his stitches warring with the thought of spending the night in the freezing rain. As if Aramis read my thoughts, he turns his head to the male at our left.

“Edmund?” He questions.

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