Chapter 21
21
T he scent of old parchment, citrus, and freshly spilled ink permeated the air as Skylar entered Arye’s study. Her fingers absently traced the high collar of her formal attire, the stiff fabric chafing against the tender skin of her neck. She swallowed hard, willing away the memory of Arye’s lips on that very spot less than a day ago. The mark burned on her skin, a secret brand that threatened to undo her at any moment.
A mark that was meant for someone else.
Skylar surveyed the tense room, her senses on high alert. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, casting long shadows across the ornate table where a large map of Regalclaw lay unfurled. Its parchment was yellowed and crinkled at the edges, the ink lines of borders and territories etched deep into its surface. The scratching of quills and the rustle of papers filled the air, punctuated by hushed whispers.
Advisor Hannington hunched over his notes, thin fingers tracing imaginary shapes as he muttered to himself. Captain Knox leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, his expression set in a scowl. Anthony bustled about, the soft clink of goblets accompanying his quiet efficiency. Two guards flanked the entrance, their armor creaking softly with each subtle shift of their rigid postures.
And then there was Arye.
He stood at the head of the table, his usual regal bearing somewhat diminished. His raven hair was disheveled, as if he’d run his hands through it countless times. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, hinting at sleepless nights. Their gazes met briefly, and Skylar felt a jolt course through her.
Did he remember?
His face remained impassive, giving nothing away.
“Duke Anathemark,” Arye nodded, his voice rough with the remnants of sleep—or perhaps something else. “Glad you could join us despite the short notice.”
Skylar bowed slightly, keeping her tone neutral, professional, even as her heart raced. “Your Highness. I came as soon as I received word.”
As she took her place at the table, noticing the empty chair next to Arye, Captain Knox, his gravelly voice tinged with disapproval, leaned in close. “His Majesty won’t be joining us. Seems he’s occupied with that Thorncrest witch again.”
Skylar’s eyebrows rose slightly, but she kept her face neutral. The King spending so much time with Princess Quince was… unexpected, to say the least. She filed the information away for later consideration.
Arye’s voice sliced through the murmurs, silencing the room. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get started. Our spies have reported significant troop movements along the Thorncrest border.”
As Advisor Hannington began detailing the reports, his words a monotonous stream, Skylar found her attention wandering. She tugged at her collar again, paranoia gnawing at her. Was the mark visible? Could anyone tell? Her eyes darted to Arye, studying his face for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembered their encounter in the garden.
But there was nothing. He seemed entirely focused on the matter at hand, his brow furrowed in concentration as he leaned over the map. Skylar’s chest tightened with a mixture of relief and… disappointment. The conflicting emotions churned within her, making her feel slightly nauseous.
“Duke,” Arye’s voice snapped her back to reality. “Your thoughts on these developments?”
Her mind raced, trying to make sense of all of this. First, they had pushed Thorncrest to retreat to their borders. Then came the assassination attempt, followed by the unexpected delegation led by Princess Quince herself. And now, troop movements at the border?
Skylar cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus. “It’s concerning,” she said, keeping her expression neutral. “It seems they’re preparing for something big despite the active peace negotiations and having asked for… other arrangements.” She let the implication hang in the air, knowing everyone in the room was aware of the proposed marriage alliance.
The Captain grunted in agreement, his features twisting into a grimace. “Aye, and with the Thousand-Year King’s visit in six days, the timing couldn’t be worse.”
“Or better,” Skylar interjected, a smirk playing at her lips. She felt more in her element now, discussing strategy and politics. “We could use his support if war breaks out. Aequilibrium’s backing would send a clear message to Thorncrest.”
“Exactly,” Arye nodded, his approving tone sending an unwelcome warmth through Skylar’s body. “We must prepare for all scenarios. They believe they have the upper hand, but we’ll prove them wrong.”
Advisor Hannington cleared his throat. “If I may, Your Highness. Princess Quince is still within our walls. Surely we can use that to our advantage?”
Arye’s eyes flashed dangerously, a sudden shift in his demeanor that made Skylar tense. “And how do you propose we do that? Threaten her? Use her as a bargaining chip?”
The older man blanched, taking a step back. “I-I merely meant to suggest?—”
“No.” Arye’s icy tone cut through the air. “Regalclaw is in a precarious position. Officially, we’re in peace talks. Unofficially, we’re on the brink of war. We have to be careful.”
Skylar watched the exchange, torn between admiration and unease. This was the Arye she knew—decisive, strategic, with an edge of ruthlessness that both thrilled and terrified her. But there was something else there too, a barely contained fury that seemed to simmer just beneath the surface.
The meeting dragged on, strategies debated and plans formulated. Throughout it all, Skylar’s gaze kept drifting to Arye, perplexed by how… normal he acted. He showed no sign of recognizing her from last night, no hint that anything had changed between them. She was safe, but it was still confusing. Maddening.
As everyone filed out during a short break, the scraping of chairs and murmur of voices filled the air. Skylar stayed, watching as Arye rubbed his temples, wincing. A small smirk tugged at her lips.
Arye glared at her, but there was no real heat behind it. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shout, Duke.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Skylar replied, their familiar dynamic easing some of her tension. “Next time, you might want to reconsider trying to outdrink the entire Royal Guard.”
Arye chuckled, then grimaced at the movement. “Noted. Though I don’t recall you being there to witness my folly.”
“I wasn’t,” she said quickly, perhaps too quickly. “But palace gossip travels fast.”
“Ah, yes. The ever-vigilant rumor mill,” Arye sighed. “I don’t suppose they mentioned finding me passed out in the garden? That’s a particularly embarrassing detail I’d rather not have circulating.”
Skylar’s mouth went dry. “I hadn’t heard that part.”
“No? Well, it’s true. Woke up soaked to the bone with the worst headache of my life.” He paused. “And I?—”
Before Arye could elaborate, Captain Knox burst back into the room, his face flushed with exertion. “Your Highness! We’ve just received word—Thorncrest’s forces are on the move. They’ve crossed the border!”
“Report,” Skylar demanded, her voice sharp with sudden urgency. She welcomed the distraction, pushing aside her conflicting emotions to focus on the immediate threat.
The Captain’s eyes darted between Skylar and Arye, his scarred face twisted with concern. “This morning, our spies saw some of them disguised as civilians crossing it. Over fifty. They’re trying to be subtle, but it’s clear they’re up to something.”
The room erupted into chaos as the other advisors rushed back in, shouting over each other as they crowded around the map. Skylar felt her world narrow, focusing solely on the tactical problem at hand. This, at least, she knew how to handle.
“We need to mobilize our troops immediately,” she said, her words cutting through the din. Her mind was already racing, calculating troop movements and potential strategies. “Showing them our military strength might make them think twice about whatever they’re planning.”
“No,” Arye interrupted, eyes blazing with confidence. “We wait.”
“Wait?” Captain Knox sputtered, his face reddening further. A vein pulsed visibly at his temple. “Your Highness, with all due respect?—”
“I said we wait,” Arye repeated, his tone brooking no argument. “They won’t mobilize all their troops as long as we have their princess. The Thousand-Year King arrives soon. We need his support before we start a war.”
“You want to crush them with combined forces?” Skylar asked, studying Arye’s face intently. His eyes held a chilling intensity that echoed the King’s calculating nature, sending a shiver down her spine.
“I do.”
Skylar frowned, her tactical mind warring with her loyalty to Arye. “Arye, that’s a huge gamble. If Thorncrest continues crossing the borders over weeks, maybe planning another assassination attempt or?—”
“Then we’ll deal with it,” Arye cut her off. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, Skylar saw something there—a flicker of vulnerability. “Trust me. Please.”
The plea, so casual in front of the others, sent warmth spreading through her. She wanted to argue, to push back against what seemed like a foolish plan. But she couldn’t.
“As you wish, Your Highness,” she said finally, ignoring the shocked looks from the other advisors.
As the meeting dissolved into frantic preparations, Skylar found herself alone with Arye once more. He dismissed the guards with a curt nod. The heavy oak door shut with a soft thud, muffling the sounds from the corridor beyond. It was a strange feeling, not unusual for them to talk in privacy, but now… now everything felt different.
Arye moved to the window and opened it, his back to her as he gazed out at the palace gardens. The scent of roses drifted in on the breeze, and Skylar was suddenly, painfully reminded of the night before—of rain-soaked skin and desperate kisses. The memory was so vivid she could almost taste the raindrops on her lips, feel the heat of his body against hers.
“Arye,” she began, her tone soft, uncertain. “I wanted to apologize. For last week?—”
“It’s fine,” Arye interrupted her, his back still turned. “You have your responsibilities as Duke. We all have our roles to play.”
She hesitated. “Well, speaking of responsibilities,” Skylar took a step closer, the tension between them palpable. “I heard about your impending marriage.”
Arye’s shoulders stiffened visibly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides before he closed the window again. “That marriage won’t happen.”
“Oh.” Skylar blinked, surprised by the vehemence in his voice. Her heart leapt at his words, even as her mind cautioned against hope. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s just… I know I spoke harshly about duty and responsibility before. I didn’t realize how much you were struggling with all of this.”
Arye sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world. He turned to face her, and Skylar was struck by the weariness in his eyes. “You truly are the only one who understands me.”
The intimacy of the moment set her heart racing. She found herself admiring his features, remembering how those same features had looked, twisted with passion. Her cheeks felt hot at the memory, and she quickly averted her gaze.
“Sky,” Arye’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “What do you think about me becoming king?”
She frowned, confused. “You’ve always been meant to be. It’s your birthright.”
A smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he leaned against the window frame, his arms casually crossed in front of his chest. The look he gave her made her blood run cold, reminding her of his darker side. “I mean, what if I were to ascend to the throne… earlier than planned?”
Skylar blinked rapidly, utterly bewildered, unable to process what he was suggesting. “You can’t possibly…”
“And why not?” he asked, his tone playful but with an underlying edge.
“Because it’s not right!” Skylar insisted, glancing nervously at the door, half-expecting the guards to burst in at any moment.
Arye’s smirk widened. “I’m tired of doing what’s right, Sky.”
“You can’t talk like this. If anyone were to hear?—”
“Let them hear,” he growled, closing the distance between them in two quick strides. “Let them know that their King is more concerned with bedding the enemy than protecting his own borders.”
“What?” she asked, confused. “Arye, this isn’t you.”
“Isn’t it?” Arye challenged, his eyes boring into hers. “You know me better than anyone, Sky. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. What I’m willing to do for this kingdom.”
“I’ve seen you lead armies, make difficult decisions,” she started, her words carefully chosen. “But at the same time, you offered to sacrifice thousands for me.”
“That’s something different.”
He was so close now that Skylar could feel his breath on her skin. Her heart raced, torn between the urge to flee and the desperate desire to lean in, erasing that final inch between them.
“Do you expect me to bless you committing treason?” she whispered.
Arye’s hand came up, his fingers brushing against her collar. Skylar froze, certain he’d discovered her secret. But he merely adjusted the fabric, his touch lingering for a moment too long. “I would have you stand with me,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. “As you always have.”
Skylar’s heart skipped a beat. This was madness. She knew it. But she found herself impalpably leaning in his direction, her body and mind at war as she struggled against her own desires.
“What you’re suggesting… it’s dangerous,” she managed, her voice hoarse. “Not just for you, but for the entire kingdom. We can’t?—”
“We can’t what, Sky?” Arye interrupted, anger and desperation battling in his expression. “Protect our people from a weak king? Or do you honestly believe my father is more fit to rule than I am?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Skylar retorted, her jaw clenching with frustration. She took a step back, needing distance. “You’re talking about overthrowing your own father. Do you have any idea what that would do to Regalclaw? To our alliances? To the people?”
Arye’s laugh was bitter, devoid of humor. “And what do you think will happen if we do nothing? Someone has to act.”
“And that someone has to be you?” Skylar challenged, retreating until her back met the door. Arye advanced with slow, deliberate steps, the air between them crackling with tension. “There are other ways. You can talk to your father, make him see reason?—”
“I’ve tried!” Arye roared, slamming his fist against the door behind her. The impact echoed through the room, vibrating through her body and making Skylar flinch. “For years, I’ve tried to make him listen, to make him care about our people. He won’t change.”
Skylar stared at him, her beliefs shaken to the core. This was treason, plain and simple. But a small, traitorous part of her whispered that maybe, just maybe, Arye was right.
“You know what you’re asking of me, don’t you?”
Arye’s expression softened, just a fraction. “I’m asking you to help me build a better Regalclaw, to rule at my side.”
Skylar’s mind raced. Every fiber of her being, trained from birth to uphold duty and honor, screamed at her to refuse. But beneath that, a voice she had silenced for years cried out for justice long denied, for a chance to right the wrongs of her past. She thought of her father, sent on a mission he couldn’t survive; of her mother’s years spent hiding from the King’s predatory gaze; of having to protect her family by concealing her true self. And through it all, there was Arye—her constant, her anchor in a world that had taken everything else, a world where she barely existed.
She knew it then. Deep inside, she craved it all. Justice. Revenge. Blood.
However, there was one problem.
“You know I might have to kill you, right?” Skylar choked out. “That I am bound to the royal bloodline, to protect?—”
“Are you?” Arye interrupted, a knowing glint in his eye. “Tell me, did the Gryphon react to my words? Does it demand you strike me down now?”
Skylar paused, reaching deep within herself. The familiar presence of the cursed beast lay dormant, unbothered by the treasonous talk that should have sent it into a frenzy. She looked at Arye, uncertainty clouding her features.
“No,” she answered. “It’s quiet. But that doesn’t?—”
A triumphant gleam flashed in Arye’s eyes. “It means everything, Sky. Your Divine Beast recognizes the truth of what I’m saying.”
Skylar held up a hand, cutting him off. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. It could simply mean the Gryphon doesn’t see you as an immediate threat.”
“Or this isn’t about destroying the monarchy—it’s about saving it. Saving our kingdom.”
“Why can you be so sure?”
“Think about it,” Arye pressed. “What does the pact truly demand of your family?”
Skylar frowned, her mind racing. “To protect the Clawborne’s bloodline and Regalclaw, but?—”
“Exactly,” Arye cut in, his eyes gleaming. “And who’s the real threat to our kingdom now?”
“Thorncrest,” she replied, her tone sharp. “Though some of your father’s decisions haven’t quite strengthened our position.”
Killing off her father was probably the worst of all. King Lyinell could have had two Anathemarks under his command, three once Conlay would be able to summon his own Divine Beast. That would have been enough power to protect the kingdom for decades. The thought of it made her blood boil.
Arye nodded. “So if a Clawborne still sits on the throne, if Regalclaw stands stronger…”
“Then the spirit of the pact might remain upheld,” Skylar finished. She met Arye’s gaze, her expression guarded. “It’s an interesting theory, but it’s built on a lot of assumptions.”
The pact had always seemed so clear, so absolute in its demands. Protect the Clawbornes. Follow every command. Defend Regalclaw at all costs. But now…
She thought of the King, his questionable decisions, his growing ruthlessness. If he truly posed a threat to the kingdom… If Arye was right, if the Gryphon truly cared only for the preservation of Regalclaw and the Clawborne line, then her duty might align with his ambitions.
“And if you’re wrong?” she asked, her voice steady. “If this triggers consequences we can’t foresee?”
A shadow passed over Arye’s expression. “Then we’ll face them.”
Skylar’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not good enough. We need to consider every possible outcome before we even think about moving forward with this. I’m sure the commands?—”
“I’ll ensure that won’t happen,” he promised, his voice firm. “I won’t let anyone use you against me.”
Skylar felt her chest tighten at the intensity in his gaze. She could see the determination there, the unwavering resolve. And beneath it all, a desperation that resonated deep within her.
“And what would you have me do?” she asked quietly, her heart pounding as she awaited his answer.
Arye’s expression softened. “I want you to watch me,” he repeated, his voice low and intense. “I will reshape Regalclaw. Make it stronger, better. Isn’t that what we’ve always wanted, what we’ve fought for?”
“Not for this price.” The words caught in her throat as she continued. “Not if it means betraying everything we’ve sworn to protect.”
Skylar turned abruptly, her hand on the door handle. She needed to leave, to escape the suffocating tension in the room, to clear her head and think rationally about what Arye was proposing.
“Sky,” Arye’s voice stopped her, a note of vulnerability creeping in that she’d rarely heard before. “If I were to do it, would you be on my side?”
Her hand trembled on the handle. She should leave. She should report this treasonous talk immediately. It was her duty, her sworn oath. But the thought of betraying Arye, of standing against him…
Without turning around, she mumbled, “You know my answer. Why even ask?”
She didn’t wait for a response. Skylar wrenched the door open and left, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the corridor behind her.