Chapter 26
26
S kylar’s head snapped up, eyes wide and desperate, searching for the source of the sound. The alley blazed with sudden light as torches rounded the corner, their flames dancing off intricate gold embroidery and a familiar blade.
Arye.
He leapt from Blanche’s back, the white mare’s sides heaving, nostrils flared and flecked with foam. Behind him, the orange glow revealed Captain Knox and his men, their faces grim.
But it was Arye who commanded Skylar’s attention. His usual poise was gone, replaced by an aura feral, dangerous. His raven hair was wild, clothes askew, eyes blazing with a fury that sent a chill down her spine. This wasn’t the Crown Prince of Regalclaw. This was something else entirely. Unrestrained. Raw. Primal. The Demon King himself surely paled in comparison.
“Get your filthy hands off him!” Arye roared, his voice a guttural snarl that echoed off the alley walls.
Skylar turned back to see her attackers’ eyes darting between Arye and her, clearly caught off guard. They hesitated for a crucial moment.
It was all Arye needed.
He moved like a force of nature, his sword a silver blur in the torchlight. The first man, the one who had seen Skylar’s bindings, didn’t even have time to cry out. Arye’s blade found his throat with terrifying precision, but the cut wasn’t clean. It was sloppy, slow, deliberately painful. It jagged along the attacker’s neck, shredding his trachea and popping out the other side of his spine with a wet crunch that Skylar felt in her bones.
Blood sprayed, hot and sticky, across Skylar’s face. The metallic scent filled her nostrils, making her stomach churn. She didn’t flinch. Couldn’t. Her body seemed frozen, disconnected, as if she were watching the scene unfold from somewhere far away. Yet every gruesome detail etched itself into her mind with horrifying clarity.
The Gryphon raged within her, its fury matching Arye’s. It clawed at her insides, desperate to be unleashed, to join in the carnage. With a surge of renewed strength, Skylar managed to spit out the foul rag that had been gagging her. Her breath came in brief, sharp gasps as she fought to contain it. The beast’s bloodlust mingled with her own fear and shame, creating a maelstrom of emotion that threatened to tear her apart.
“Secure the area!” Arye barked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the remaining men. “No one escapes!”
Captain Knox’s voice rang out behind Skylar. “You heard His Highness! Move!”
Armored boots thundered against cobblestones, filling the alley as Captain Knox’s men rushed to block off escape routes. Metal scraped against stone, and the air filled with the clanking of weapons being drawn. But Skylar barely registered it. Her world had narrowed to the frantic rhythm of her heart and the burning in her lungs as she struggled to breathe.
She was still on the ground, her body trembling uncontrollably. The torn remnants of her shirt did little to conceal the bindings that had kept her secret for so long. The rough cobblestones bit into her flesh, cold and unyielding. She tried her best to cover herself, curling into a ball to block everyone’s looks, the chill of the night air raising goosebumps on her exposed skin.
Shame washed over her as she realized silent tears were streaming down her face. She, who had faced down armies and controlled a Divine Beast, reduced to this quivering mess. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
Protector of the kingdom? Hah. Some protector she was, cowering in an alley, unable to even defend herself.
A whimper escaped her lips, barely audible over the sounds of violence. But it was enough to catch Arye’s attention.
In an instant, he was at her side, his cape settling around her shoulders. The heavy fabric enveloped her, warm and comforting. It smelled like him, felt like an embrace she didn’t deserve.
Hesitantly she looked up at him. His pale face was smeared with blood, his white shirt stained crimson, and his eyes seemed to burn with an otherworldly intensity. But it was impossible to tell if he had seen her bindings or not. The uncertainty gnawed at her, adding to the churning mess of emotions in her gut.
“Sky,” he murmured, his voice low and intense. His gaze raked over her, searching for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
She tried to speak, to reassure him, but her voice failed her. All she could manage was a sad smile and a small shake of her head. The movement ignited a fresh burst of pain through her battered body, but she did her best to hide it.
Arye’s expression hardened as he faced the remaining men. He gently caressed her cheeks, removing a tear strand. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the violence he’d just unleashed. The soothing warmth of his fingers against her cold skin sent a shiver down her spine.
“May I?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.
It took Skylar a moment to realize what he was asking. Even now, in the midst of chaos and brutality, he sought her approval. Her permission to unleash his full fury. The weight of that trust, that deference, nearly overwhelmed her.
She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to work. “Yes,” she croaked, the word barely audible.
That single syllable transformed Arye. He rose, a predator uncoiling, ready to strike. What followed was a display of ruthless efficiency that both awed and terrified Skylar.
Arye moved with deadly grace, his sword flashing in lethal patterns. Each stroke was precise, calculated to inflict maximum damage and pain. The alley echoed with screams of agony and the wet, meaty sounds of steel meeting flesh.
One man tried to raise his dagger, but Arye was faster. His blade cleaved through the man’s wrist, sending the attacker’s hand flying through the air. It hit the wall with a sickening thud before falling to the ground. Blood spurted from the stump, and the man screamed, high and piercing, before Arye’s blade located his heart. The scream cut off abruptly, replaced by the wet, sucking sound of steel being withdrawn from flesh.
“Please!” one of the attackers begged. “I was just followin’ orders!” The man’s eyes were wide with terror, his earlier confidence completely evaporated in the face of Arye’s wrath.
Arye paused, his sword poised at the man’s throat. A single drop of blood formed at the tip, slowly rolling down. “Whose orders?” he asked, his voice dripping with cold fury.
“P-Princess Quince! I’ll tell ye everythin’!”
For a moment, Arye was perfectly still. Then, with a snarl of rage, he drove his sword through the middle of the man’s neck. The attacker’s eyes went wide with shock, a gurgling sound escaping his lips as Arye slid the blade free. The man clutched at his throat as if trying to stop the inevitable, blood seeping between his fingers. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, life draining from him in a disgusting, wet mess. Arye didn’t look away; he waited, watched, until the man stopped breathing, until his gaze lost focus and glazed over with the finality of death.
Skylar couldn’t watch anymore. She squeezed her eyes shut, but it did nothing to block out the sounds of terror that filled the alley. The squelch of blade piercing flesh, the crack of bones breaking, the gurgling gasps of the dying. The uneasy shifting of the soldiers behind her, their armor creaking with each movement. Each noise sent a fresh wave of nausea through her.
Breathe. In and out. Slow and steady.
She focused on the rhythm of her own heartbeat, trying to drown out the carnage around her. She needed to regain control, to be the Duke that everyone expected her to be. She couldn’t allow herself to fall apart, not so close to the end.
The Gryphon’s presence swelled within her, feeding off the violence and her own turbulent emotions. It took every ounce of Skylar’s willpower to keep the beast contained. She didn’t need its power anymore. She was safe.
The clamor of battle died down, replaced by one lone whimper.
“Wait!” Captain Knox’s voice cut through the chaos. Skylar felt the wind of movement when he passed her. “Your Highness, we need him for questioning. We must?—”
Skylar’s eyes snapped open just in time to see Arye whirl, his sword arcing towards Knox’s neck. The Captain’s gaze widened in shock, his hand flying to his own weapon. But he was too slow. The torchlight glinted off Arye’s blade as it sliced through the air.
“Stop,” Skylar rasped, her voice hoarse but firm. “Don’t move.”
Arye froze, his blade a hair’s breadth from Captain Knox’s throat. A bead of sweat rolled down the Captain’s face, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Arye’s eyes, wild with bloodlust, found Skylar’s. For a moment, she feared he was too far gone, lost in his rage. But then recognition flickered in his gaze.
“It’s enough,” Skylar said, softer this time. She forced herself to her feet, ignoring the way her legs trembled. The cape slipped slightly, and she clutched it tighter, wrapping it around her body. “See. I’m okay.” The words were as much for herself as for Arye, a desperate attempt to bring normalcy back to this nightmarish situation. “I’m safe now. Thanks to you.”
Slowly, as if waking from a trance, Arye lowered his sword. With a practiced motion, he cleaned the blade on his sleeve before sheathing it. The clang of steel sliding home seemed to break the spell that had fallen over the alley.
Arye turned to the lone survivor, a young man cowering in a pool of his own urine, too terrified to even attempt escape. When Arye spoke, his voice was as cold and sharp as a midwinter icicle.
“You will deliver a message to your princess,” he said, each word dripping with venom. “Tell her that I’m coming for her, and if she has any sense at all, she’ll run. Though it won’t save her in the end.”
The man nodded frantically, his eyes wide with terror.
“Go,” Arye snarled. “Before I change my mind.”
He scrambled to his feet, nearly slipping in the blood-slicked cobblestones as he bolted down the alley. No one moved to stop him. The sound of his frantic footsteps echoed off the narrow walls.
“You,” Arye pointed at one of Captain Knox’s men, his armor still gleaming despite the grime of the alley. “Follow him. Make sure he delivers the message. Then dispose of him. Quietly.”
The soldier exchanged a glance with his captain, a flicker of unease passing between them. But he saluted, hurrying after the fleeing man. His footsteps faded into the distance, leaving an eerie silence in their wake.
Arye shifted his attention to Skylar, his expression softening as he approached her slowly. “Can you move?” he asked gently, offering his hand.
Skylar nodded, grateful for his support as she neared Blanche. The mare snorted softly and nudged her. “Thanks for bringing him here,” Skylar whispered as she touched the horse’s velvety muzzle. She noticed Blanche’s heaving sides and the lather of sweat on her coat. “You must have run so hard, girl. He was really in a rush to get here, wasn’t he?” The war horse nickered in response, as if confirming Skylar’s words.
“Your Highness,” Captain Knox said, his voice carefully neutral. “What are your orders?”
Arye’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. “Have your men clean this up and follow me,” he answered curtly. “I want no trace of what happened here. And Captain?” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “If I hear even a whisper of gossip about tonight’s events, I’ll hold you personally responsible. Understood?”
The Captain swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Arye turned back to Skylar, a flicker of worry passing over his face. “Can you ride?” he asked quietly.
Skylar nodded, not trusting her voice. The adrenaline was starting to fade, leaving her feeling weak and shaky. Her limbs felt leaden, each movement an exhausting effort that sent tremors of discomfort through her frame, but she gritted her teeth against it. She couldn’t afford to show weakness, not here. Not now. She had to be strong, for just a little longer.
“Good,” Arye said. He helped her onto Blanche’s saddle before swinging up behind her.
His arms encircled her waist, holding her steady. The warmth of his body against her back was both comforting and terrifying. Skylar found herself leaning into him, despite her better judgment. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, smell the metallic tang of blood mingled with his familiar scent of citrus and cedarwood.
“Where are we heading?”
“To the palace,” Arye replied, his breath hot against her ear. “I have some unfinished business there.”