Chapter 24
24
P rincess Quince’s voice cut through the opulent palace halls. “Duke Anathemark, come here at once.”
Skylar subtly adjusted her high collar, ensuring it was in place before turning, her face a mask of polite neutrality. The Princess stood before her, resplendent in a gown of deep emerald that set off her auburn hair to perfection. The scent of her cloying perfume assaulted Skylar’s senses, a sickly-sweet floral concoction that seemed designed to suffocate.
“Your Highness,” Skylar replied, bowing slightly. The motion caused a twinge where her bindings were particularly tight today. “How may I be of service?”
Princess Quince’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I couldn’t help but notice how close you and Prince Arye seem to be. It’s quite touching, really.”
Skylar’s guard went up immediately. She could sense the venom behind the Princess’s words, coiled and ready to strike. The air between them crackled with tension, drawing the attention of nearby courtiers. Silken gowns rustled as nobles shifted to better observe the brewing confrontation.
“His Highness and I have known each other since childhood,” Skylar replied cautiously, keeping her tone measured.
“Ah, childhood friends.” Princess Quince’s tone dripped with false sweetness. She leaned closer, her breath hot on Skylar’s face. “Tell me, do you have any other friends? Or why do you cling to him like a desperate fly?”
The words hit Skylar in the gut, striking deeper than she cared to admit. Her chest tightened as the truth of the Princess’s observation sank in. She didn’t have friends, never wanted them. It was selfish enough to let one person into her heart, despite her very existence being a lie. The realization left her feeling exposed and vulnerable, a sensation she despised.
Princess Quince pressed on, her voice carrying to the growing crowd of onlookers. “Or perhaps… it’s more than friendship you want?” Her eyes narrowed, a predatory glint in their depths. “The way you look at him, it’s not exactly platonic, is it? Tell me, Duke, do you prefer the pleasures of men?”
A ripple of shocked gasps and tittering laughter spread through the assembled nobles. Lady Emma, wearing a crimson gown that hugged her curves, leaned in to whisper to another noblewoman with an amused expression. The hunger for gossip was palpable, a living thing pulsating through the crowd.
“I assure you, Your Highness, my relationship with the Crown Prince is nothing more than that of a loyal subject to his future King.” Skylar’s jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath her skin as she fought to maintain her composure.
The Princess smirked, her teeth flashing white against her painted lips. “Oh, come now. There’s no need to be coy. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?” She turned to the small crowd, her voice rising. “Wait, that made me think… Duke Anathemark, I believe you’ve yet to show me the proper respect. Care to kneel before your future Queen?”
The implication was clear—Princess Quince was trying to humiliate her, to expose what she perceived as Skylar’s weakness. Excitement and discomfort warred on the faces of the gathered courtiers, some clearly anticipating entertainment, others shifting uneasily at the Princess’s blatant power play.
Lady Alison, her severe black gown a stark contrast to the colorful silks surrounding her, stepped forward. “Your Highness, perhaps this isn’t the most appropriate?—”
“Silence,” Princess Quince snapped, her eyes never leaving Skylar’s face. The older woman flinched visibly, her jeweled necklace clinking softly as she retreated. “Well, Duke? I’m waiting.”
For a moment, Skylar felt a flicker of panic. The Gryphon stirred within her, responding to her distress. Then, a strange thought struck her.
Why was she holding back?
Arye’s future Queen wouldn’t be Princess Quince—she was merely a temporary guest, an enemy in allied territory. There was no reason to be subservient. How had she not realized this before? A surge of confidence flowed through her, shattering the constraints that bound her. The Princess had forgotten her place. Perhaps they all had. The moment had come to show them the monster they’d always imagined.
A cold smirk curved her lips, offering a glimpse of the predator she had long suppressed beneath her courtly facade. Her eyes hardened as she met the Princess’s gaze.
The time for measured diplomacy was over.
“Your Highness.” Skylar’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl. The crowd stilled, tension crackling in the air. “I must decline. My duty is to Regalclaw, not to entertain visiting royalty’s… whims.”
Princess Quince’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting such resistance.
“Furthermore,” Skylar continued, her tone sharp enough to cut glass, “I would advise you to choose your words more carefully in the future. Haven’t you heard? The Anathemarks are not toys for you to play with.”
The Princess’s face flushed with anger, two spots of color blooming high on her cheeks. “How dare you speak to me like that? I am a Princess of Thorncrest!”
“And I am Duke Skylar Anathemark,” Skylar replied, her voice steady and cold. Several nobles took involuntary steps back, their eyes wide with fear. “Do you want to know how many of your soldiers I have killed? How many of them my Gryphon has devoured?”
Princess Quince looked around, panic flashing in her gaze. The courtiers avoided her gaze, suddenly finding the intricate floor patterns fascinating. She called to the guards standing at attention nearby, their armor gleaming in the afternoon light streaming through the high windows. “Are you blind to this insolence? Seize him at once!”
The guards exchanged uneasy glances, clearly torn between their duty to protect visiting royalty and their fear of the monstrous Duke Anathemark. Their hands tightened on their weapons, but they made no move to intervene.
Skylar stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that nonetheless carried in the hushed silence. “I bend my knee only to those who have earned my respect or to whom I am bound by ancient pacts. You, Your Highness, fall into neither category.”
Princess Quince’s face contorted with rage and humiliation, her cheeks flushing an angry red that clashed horribly with her gown. “You insolent—” she hissed, stepping closer. “Listen to me carefully, Duke. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll distance yourself from Prince Arye. A strategic marriage far outweighs whatever… friendship you believe you have with him.”
Skylar’s protective instincts flared, both for Arye and for the bond they shared. She leaned in, her voice a gentle whisper but dripping with poison. “You really think you can intimidate me? I’ve been playing this game since I could walk. Underestimate me at your own risk, Princess.”
Before she could respond, a familiar voice broke through the tension. “Duke Anathemark, Princess Quince. What a rare sight.”
Skylar turned to see Arye approaching, wearing his formal attire, his presence immediately commanding attention. His raven hair was neatly styled, the golden embroidery on his black coat catching the light with each movement. His storm-gray eyes met Skylar’s, a silent question passing between them.
But it wasn’t Arye who caught Skylar’s eye—it was the man walking beside him.
He was stunning.
Tall, with an otherworldly grace that seemed to defy his apparent age, probably just a few years older than Arye. His hair was as black as the darkest night, falling in perfect waves around a face as if chiseled by the gods themselves. And his eyes… A jolt ran through Skylar as she met his gaze. They were golden, ancient, filled with wisdom and power transcending time itself.
“Your Majesty,” Skylar bowed deeply, her mind racing. This could only be one person—the Thousand-Year King of Aequilibrium. “We are honored by your presence.”
Skylar heard the frantic whispers of the courtiers before they bowed, curtsied, or stood tighter like the guards. The rustle of fabric filled the air as nobles hastily adjusted their attire, desperate to make a good impression.
The Thousand-Year King’s eyes swept over Skylar, and she caught a flicker of confusion passing over his features before settling into an amused grin.
The Princess, seemingly sensing an opportunity, stepped forward with a graceful curtsy. Her earlier anger vanished behind a mask of charm. “Your Majesty,” she purred, her voice honey-sweet. “What a pleasure to meet you at last. I’m Princess Quince Spinewood of Thorncrest, and I’ve heard so much about the traditions of Aequilibrium. Perhaps we could?—”
But the Thousand-Year King’s attention remained fixed on Skylar, effectively ignoring the Princess’s attempts at flattery. “Duke Anathemark,” his voice was deep, resonant with an authority reverberating in Skylar’s very bones. “Would you care to join us? Crown Prince Arye was just about to show me to his study.”
Skylar blinked in surprise, glancing at Arye, who looked equally taken aback. “I… of course, Your Majesty. It would be my honor.”
As they walked away, Skylar could feel Princess Quince’s glare burning into her back. But she couldn’t care less. The overwhelming presence of the Thousand-Year King eclipsed all other concerns in her mind. Until this very moment, Arye had been the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on—but Aequilibrium’s King was different. If gods existed, they would surely be like him. Untouchable, unreachable, not of this world.
Skylar listened as Arye explained the role of her family to the Thousand-Year King as they walked. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the marble floors, punctuated by the occasional rustle of fabric as they passed curious onlookers.
“Our military prowess is unmatched. The Anathemarks and their Divine Beasts serve as a formidable complement to our already considerable forces.”
Skylar couldn’t help but add, with a wry smile, “Though I must say, being cursed and handling a Divine Beast isn’t quite as fun as it sounds.”
She immediately regretted her flippant comment, worried it could offend their esteemed guest. But to her surprise, the Thousand-Year King’s lips twitched in what might have been amusement. He remained silent, however, his golden eyes seeming to look past Skylar rather than at her.
The walk to Arye’s study felt interminable, the stillness growing more oppressive with each step. By the time they finally reached it, Skylar’s nerves were stretched to their breaking point.
As soon as the doors closed behind them, shutting out the bustle of the palace, the Thousand-Year King turned to face Skylar. The sudden silence was almost deafening, broken only by the soft ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner of the room. “I must apologize,” he said, his voice solemn. “I haven’t greeted you properly.”
Before Skylar could respond, Aequilibrium’s King lowered himself to one knee, his hand pressed to his heart in a gesture of deep respect. The sight was so unexpected, so at odds with everything Skylar knew about royal protocol, that for a moment she thought she must be dreaming. The Gryphon within her stirred, a sensation of warmth and recognition spreading through her body.
Skylar gasped, looking to Arye in confusion. But he looked just as bewildered, his eyes wide with shock.
“Your Majesty, please,” Skylar stammered, overwhelmed by the situation. Her heart raced, the bindings across her chest suddenly feeling far too tight. “You must be mistaken. There’s no need for such formality. Please, rise and be seated.”
The Thousand-Year King stood, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. His movements were fluid, graceful in a way that seemed almost inhuman. “You don’t understand the significance of what you carry within you, do you?” He moved to sit in one of the plush chairs, gesturing for Skylar and Arye to do the same.
“The curse?”
Skylar sank into the offered seat, her mind whirling. She could feel Arye’s presence beside her, a steady warmth that grounded her in the midst of this surreal encounter.
“It is no curse,” the Thousand-Year King said firmly. “And your beast is not divine either. The pact your family bears is far older and far more significant than you realize.”
Skylar leaned forward, her curiosity overriding her apprehension. “What do you mean? Can you tell us more?”
The Thousand-Year King’s gaze seemed to look through her, into some distant past or future. When he answered, his voice carried the weight of millennia. “I can tell you this—were it not for the Anathemarks, none of us would be here today. The pact you bear was born of love and protection, not curse and burden.”
Arye, who had been quiet, finally spoke up. “Is there a way to lift this… pact?”
The Thousand-Year King’s smile widened slightly. “As I said, it is not a curse to be lifted. It is a sacred duty. And perhaps,” he added, his voice lowering, “one nearing its natural end.”
Skylar’s mind reeled with questions, but before she could ask any of them, the Thousand-Year King continued.
“I would very much like to see your Gryphon, Duke Anathemark. But I know the toll it takes on you to summon it.” He extended his hand, long fingers outstretched. The light caught on a ring he wore, an intricate design of a scale appearing to shift and change the longer Skylar looked at it. “Perhaps, if you’re willing, I could simply touch you? It would be enough for me to sense its presence.”
Skylar hesitated, looking to Arye. He nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. The ticking of the grandfather clock seemed to grow louder in the silence, marking each moment of indecision.
Taking a deep breath, Skylar reached out and placed her hand in the Thousand-Year King’s. The second their skin made contact, a wave of warmth rushed through Skylar’s body, from her fingertips to her toes. The scent of lavender filled the air, stronger than ever before. Within her, the Gryphon stirred. But instead of the usual restless energy, a sense of peace, of rightness, washed over Skylar. The cursed beast seemed… flattered by the attention.
As quickly as it began, the sensation faded. The Thousand-Year King withdrew his hand, a look of profound satisfaction on his face. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I wanted to meet her for a long time.”
Her?
Skylar opened her mouth, endless more questions on the tip of her tongue, but the Thousand-Year King shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s all I can say on the matter. Some truths have to be discovered at their own pace.”
Frustration bubbled up within Skylar, but she forced it down. This ancient being clearly possessed knowledge far beyond what he revealed, but pushing him would likely prove fruitless. She noticed Arye’s tension beside her, knew he must be equally burning with unanswered questions.
Arye steered the conversation to more immediate concerns, his voice taking on the authoritative tone he used in war councils. “Your Majesty, given the current tensions with Thorncrest, can we count on Aequilibrium’s support should conflict arise?”
The Thousand-Year King’s expression grew serious, the burden of countless years etched on his features. In that moment, despite his youthful appearance, Skylar could almost see the millennia reflected in his gaze. “Aequilibrium stands with Regalclaw, as it always has,” he said. “You have my word that we will fight by your side if the need arises.”
A knock at the door interrupted their discussion. A servant entered, bowing low. His livery was impeccable, but Skylar noticed a slight tremor in his hands. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Highness, Your Majesty. His Majesty King Lyinell is ready to receive the Thousand-Year King in the throne room.”
Arye’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, a muscle ticking beneath his skin. “How generous of my father to make time in his busy schedule,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Louder, he addressed the servant, “Thank you. Please inform His Majesty that we’ll be there shortly.”
As the servant left, they all rose to their feet. The air in the room seemed to shift, the brief respite from court politics fading away. The Thousand-Year King clasped Arye’s hand warmly, his expression filled with genuine affection. “I will miss our conversations when my time comes to an end, Crown Prince Arye.”
Arye’s expression softened. “And I will miss your guidance, Your Majesty.”
The Thousand-Year King’s eyes twinkled with amusement, a youthful mischief that clashed with his ageless appearance. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that. We’ll meet again, I’m sure. Same face, same role, same memories—just younger.”
As he turned to leave with Arye behind him, the Thousand-Year King paused at the door. He looked back at Arye, his expression serious. “I wish you a future free from worries.” Then his gaze shifted to Skylar, a mysterious smile on his lips. “To both of you.”
With that cryptic farewell, they left Skylar alone in the suddenly quiet study.