Page 46 of Sky of Thorns

Pursing my lips together, I cross my arms over my chest. He watches me like a wolf sizing up a deer, as if he can see right into my thoughts.

“I can see it written all over yer face, ye arse. Fate has dealt us an interesting card my friend,” Nero continues to ramble on. “I cansmellit on ye. Yer mated to Sybil, aren’t ye?” A laugh escapes him as he rubs his forehead and shakes his head. “What a fool.”

I tense as I hear the words spoken out loud for the first time.Fuck. At his accusation, I turn on my heel to face him, old instincts kicking. “No, it’s not what you think. It can’t be.”

Lies, lies, lies.

The words hurt. Why am I scared to tell him the truth? He is my closest friend. My deepest ally. He’s a brother to me. If I cannot trust Nero with this, how can I even trust myself? The turmoil churning in my gut clenches. My head pounds. The truth is that as long as I keep this realization to myself, I can protect it. I can find a way to protect me and Sybil from the hate we will otherwise receive. An elemental mated to a shifter is unheard of, abnormal even. What will the kingdom say if they know their Prince’s soul is bound to that of a shifter, inferior in status and the constant reminder of the enemy? What will Nero think after saving me from those shifter assassins the night they came for my life? Will he despise me as much as I already despise myself for letting this happen? I lower my gaze, trying to hide the fear that courses through me at the possibility of losing my brother.

“Do ye even hear yerself? You’re such a pompous arsehole,” Nero replies, grinning wolfishly at me. Had I not known my best friend as long as I have, I wouldn’t have caught the glimpse of something deeper dwelling in his eyes—a flicker of pain and anger. “Lad, ye don’t know what sort of trouble yer in now.”

Anger roils in my stomach, his accusations building on top of each other. The condescension in his voice builds layers of fury, ready to erupt within me. “Fuck off Ne–”

“Don’t ye dare try to deny it, lad,” Nero shouts, getting in my face. “If ye do, ye’ll go mad.”

“Call me lad one more time,” I growl at him, stepping so far in his space that we’re nose to nose, fuming at each other. My hand rests on the hilt of my sword. The pent up rage inside me is beginning to fester. His words are the hard reminders of my own actions and thoughts.

“Or what?” He falls into a defensive crouch, circling me. Taunting me. “Would ye rather I continue telling yerself all the ways ye’ve lied?” Nero glares at me, outraged at my laughter. “Did ye nae think I wouldn’t notice the stolen glances ye sent her way the entire journey back home? Or would ye rather—”

Fuck this. I lunge, slamming my fist out to connect with his jaw, but he moves at the last moment and I’m met with air.

“You know nothing!” I yell as I whip around to face him.

“I ken more than ye think. I know ye haven’t been ready for the truth until recently.” His punch lands on my shoulder, causing me to lurch to the left, but I quickly regain my balance.

“What truth?” I bellow, thoroughly outraged and confused. Nero easily jumps back as I crouch down to swipe out a foot.

“That not all shifters are bad. Just as not all elementals are good.” Nero exhales, pausing for a moment. We’re both panting as we face each other. Each heaving breath turns to misty fog in the air. “Not everything is as simple as it seems. I know what happened with your mother was atrocious, but it’s not a reason to hate the whole lot of them.”

“Wait. So you’re not disgusted by the fact that Sybil is my mate?” I stare at him.

“Aramis.” Nero states, calm etched on his face as he claps a hand on my shoulder. Heat radiates from his palm as fire dances in his eyes. His skin shimmers with magic, leaving metallic overlapping scales in their wake. “Not all shifters are bad.” The words are repeated for emphasis.

“What?” My jaw goes slack as I stumble back away from him. “What trick is this?” My eyes rove from his head to his toe before stopping at the large membranous wings sprouting from his back. Other than the wings and scales, he maintains his humanoid features.

“This is nae a trick. It is time ye know the truth.” Nero declares. His magic releases and the scales melt back into his skin, but the wings remain.

Sybil

Iawakenfrommyfitful sleep to a deep rumble accompanying the shaking of the windowpane. Kela sits in the single chair, staring deeply into a blazing fire with a book lying open in her hands. Lemon is curled up in her lap as she strokes his back absentmindedly.

The remnants of peculiar dreams cling to the edges of my consciousness like elusive shadows. A sense of familiarity lingers as if the dreams were connected fragments of a story I'm struggling to piece together. One moment I was running through the snowy woods, desperate to findsomeone, to make sure they were safe. A second later I’m in a cave, emotions of sorrow and anger so vivid tears prickle my eyes. A mix of voices and words play over and over in my mind like a riddle I can’t solve, the most prominent one beingAlapheia. I gently lay a hand on my chest, trying to convince my aching heart that it was only a dream but I am restless, almost as if I have left something that belongs to me behind.

Rolling over, I stare out the window. Darkness has fallen, leaving the world in shades of gray. Small pieces of hail and sleet pelt against the glass. A blanket of white covers the ground outside.

“How did you—” My brows furrow as I push myself up to a sitting position and turn back to Kela.

“How did I know it was going to snow?” Kela asks, a knowing smile curling on her lips. She closes the book and sets it to the side. “I just had a feeling.” She grins mischievously at me and taps her temple.

“That’s some power you have.” Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I gingerly test my weight on my left foot. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise as I hardly discern a twinge of discomfort. “How long was I out for? It looks like it’s nearly nightfall outside.”

“You sure do have a lot of questions.” Kela teases. “You’ve been out all day and most of the night, it’s almost dawn. It doesn’t surprise me though. You used up almost all your magic between your transformation and attempting to heal your ankle. Didn’t anyone teach you that your magic isn’t an endless well?”

“I never had the chance to train beyond the basics,” I grumble. This fact is the bane of my existence, whether I want to admit it or not.

“You’re also lucky for this little guy.” Kela grins, caressing Lemon’s fur, just as he likes it. “He slept curled up around your ankle until just a few hours ago.” She stands up, gently placing Lemon on the bed beside me. “Although you didn’t heal yourself fully, I’m grateful you attempted. I can handle a sprain in a pinch. I’m not good at resetting broken bones and I don’t know how powerful a young ramidreju’s powers of healing are.”

“I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that Lemon is a healer. He’s always just been incredibly intuitive.” I watch as he scampers across the quilt, chasing a small woolen ball Kela tosses at him.

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