Chapter 34
34
A rye.
For a heartbeat, Skylar forgot herself, muscles coiling to dip into the familiar bow she’d offered countless times as Duke Anathemark. Panic flared in her chest as she caught herself, awkwardly transitioning into a curtsy that felt as unnatural as the corset cinching her waist.
“Your Highness.”
When she dared to glance up, her heart sank. Arye’s attention was fixed solely on Marquis Kaiden, his jaw set in a hard line. He didn’t spare her a single look.
“Crown Prince Arye,” Marquis Kaiden said, bowing deeply. “What an honor. I trust you’re enjoying the festivities?”
“Immensely,” Arye replied, his tone dry as sun-baked sand. His gaze slid over Skylar as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture. “Though I must say, I’m surprised to see you monopolizing one of our guests. Surely there is more appropriate company worthy of your attention?”
The barb was thinly veiled, and in the past, Arye would never have allowed anyone to speak of her in such a manner. Skylar’s breath caught in her throat, a mixture of hurt and indignation rising within her. She turned to the Marquis, waiting for him to defend her, to challenge Arye’s implication.
But Marquis Kaiden merely laughed, the sound easy and unbothered. “Ah, but Your Highness, when one finds such delightful company, it’s hard to tear oneself away. I’m sure you understand.”
The casual dismissal stung. Skylar’s disappointment was palpable as she realized the Marquis had no intention of standing up for her. She longed for Arye’s fierce protectiveness, how he would bristle at the slightest perceived slight against her. This cold indifference from both men was worse than any insult.
“Is that so?” Arye’s voice was deceptively light. “Though I wonder if your ship’s crew feels the same way about your absence.”
Marquis Kaiden’s easy smile faltered. “Pardon?”
“Oh yes,” Arye continued, a predatory glint in his eyes. “I heard the most curious rumor about a fire down at the docks. Probably nothing to worry about, of course, but one can never be too careful with such valuable cargo, can they?”
The color drained from the Marquis’s face. “I… I should go check on that immediately. If I may take my leave, Your Highness. My lady.” He bowed hastily to Arye, then to Skylar, before hurrying away.
As Skylar watched him leave, unease knotted her stomach. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Arye’s words than mere coincidence. The air between them crackled with tension, thick enough to choke on.
“Well.” Arye finally addressed her directly. “It seems your companion has abandoned you. How terribly rude.”
Skylar’s heart raced, its rapid beats echoing in her ears. She needed to leave, to put distance between herself and Arye before she said or did something to give herself away. “I should return to Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess,” she murmured, beginning to retreat. “If you’ll excuse me, Your Highness?—”
“Dance with me.”
It wasn’t a request. Arye’s extended hand was an offer she couldn’t refuse without causing a scene. Skylar swallowed hard and placed her trembling fingers in his. Their touch sent a jolt of electricity up her arm, setting every nerve alight.
As Arye led her to the center of the ballroom, Skylar’s mind whirled. What was she supposed to do? How did noble ladies act around the Crown Prince? Should she make inane small talk? Giggle and bat her eyelashes? The realization that she had no idea how to navigate this situation as a woman struck her with terrifying clarity.
The music began—a slow, haunting melody echoing the turmoil in Skylar’s heart. Arye’s hand settled on her waist. The heat of his palm burned through her gown’s thin fabric. She kept her eyes fixed on a point just over his shoulder, afraid to meet his gaze. The scent of him—cedarwood and citrus—enveloped her, threatening to overwhelm her senses.
“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced,” Arye said after a moment of tense silence. “You must be new to court. Marquis Edwards’ fiancée, perhaps?”
Skylar’s step faltered, but Arye’s firm grip kept her from stumbling. “I… that is…” she stammered, unsure how to respond. “Is that how we appeared?”
A muscle in Arye’s jaw twitched. “You certainly seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. Two dances in a row is quite… telling.”
The implication in his words was clear. Indignation flashed through Skylar, quickly followed by confusion. “Sounds like you’ve been watching us,” she said before she could stop herself.
Arye’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening subtly. “I make it a point to be aware of everything that happens in my court.”
“Counting everyone’s dances is part of that?” she asked, unable to keep the challenge from her tone.
“Only the interesting ones,” Arye replied, his voice dropping even lower. The rumble of it sent shivers down Skylar’s spine. “And you, my lady, are very interesting.”
Skylar’s heart skipped a beat. Was he flirting with her? Or was this some kind of test? She hesitated, caught between maintaining her lady-like facade and responding naturally. Then a realization struck her—she wasn’t Duke Anathemark here, nor was she an insecure noblewoman. Why did she keep acting like someone she wasn’t? Hadn’t she left the palace to become herself in the first place? She had nothing to lose.
“I’m flattered, Your Highness.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “But surely the Crown Prince has more pressing matters to attend to than monitoring the dance cards of every lady at court.”
As the words escaped her mouth, exhilaration and alarm coursed through her. It felt so right, yet so dangerous. She held her breath, waiting for Arye’s reaction.
His eyebrows shot up, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “You’ve got quite the sharp tongue, haven’t you? I wonder where you learned that.”
“Perhaps I was born with it,” Skylar retorted, feeling more like herself with each passing second.
“Perhaps.” Arye’s gaze locked onto hers. “Your dress is… striking. I don’t believe I’ve seen its like before.” His attention dropped to the neckline of her gown, lingering there a moment too long before trailing down to where their bodies nearly touched.
As they turned, the room spinning around them in a dizzying whirl of color and light, Arye’s hand slid across her bare back. His fingers traced the curve of her spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Skylar couldn’t tell if the touch was intentional or not, but it left her breathless all the same. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp, and Arye’s eyes darted to her mouth, darkening with an emotion she couldn’t name.
“Do you like it, Your Highness?” Skylar asked, her voice huskier than she intended. The words were bold, flirtatious in a way she’d never dared to be with Arye before. “I hear blue is quite fashionable this season.”
“On you?” Arye’s gaze traveled slowly down her body, then back up to her eyes. “I’d say it’s positively sinful.”
Heat bloomed in Skylar’s cheeks, spreading down her neck and chest. She was grateful for the dim lighting of the ballroom, hoping it would hide her blush. “Your Highness,” she admonished, though there was no real reproach in her tone. “Such talk could give a lady ideas.”
“Good,” Arye growled, the sound sending shivers down her spine. “I hope it does.”
Skylar’s breath caught. This was dangerous territory.
“So.” Arye’s voice dropped low and intimate. “Have you seen Duke Anathemark this evening? I was rather hoping to speak with him.”
Skylar’s throat went dry. “I’m afraid he couldn’t make it,” she managed to say, silently cursing the tremor in her voice.
“A pity,” Arye murmured, his lips curving into a smirk. “And here I thought he liked me.”
The words struck Skylar’s heart with the force of a dagger. She wanted to explain, to tell him everything, but the weight of her secrets pressed down on her like a physical thing.
“Does he occasionally mention me?” Arye’s tone was deceptively casual. His thumb traced small circles on her lower back, the touch so light it could have been accidental.
But Skylar knew better. Nothing Arye did was ever truly accidental.
“Sometimes,” she said carefully. “He holds you in high regard.”
“Does he?” Arye’s grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer. Their bodies were flush against each other now, the heat between them almost unbearable. “And what of you, my lady? What do you think of him?”
“I hardly know him,” Skylar lied.
Arye’s eyes flashed dangerously. “How curious. I would have thought a relative of the Anathemarks would be quite familiar with their Duke.”
Panic clawed at Skylar’s throat. She needed to change the subject, to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. “Your Highness,” she said, forcing a coy smile to her lips. “Surely you have more interesting topics to discuss than an absent duke. What of the ball? Have you decided which lucky lady will become your bride?”
For a moment, Skylar thought she’d gone too far. Arye’s expression darkened, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that stole her breath. Then, unexpectedly, his lips curved into a predatory smile.
“Oh, I decided that a long time ago,” he answered, the timbre of his voice seeming to vibrate through her entire body.
“Is that so?” she managed, her voice barely audible over the music. “She must be quite special to have captured your attention so thoroughly.”
Arye’s gaze never left her face, but his expression softened. “She’s my world.”
“Tell me more about her,” Skylar found herself saying, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. A part of her screamed that she was torturing herself, that she didn’t want to hear any more. But a larger part needed to know, needed to understand.
“She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he murmured, the intensity in his tone palpable. Each word seemed to caress her skin, sending shivers of awareness through her body. “She challenges me in ways no one else dares. Infuriating at times. Stubborn. And utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.”
Skylar’s heart clenched. “She sounds… remarkable.”
“She is.” Arye paused. “But she’s also frustratingly blind to her own worth. She doesn’t see how truly extraordinary she is.”
The music swelled around them, reaching a crescendo that matched the intensity of the moment. But Skylar barely noticed. She was lost in Arye’s eyes, drowning in the depths of emotion she saw there. “And you intend to show her?” she asked, her voice a mere whisper.
“Every day for the rest of our lives, if she’ll let me.”
The raw honesty in his voice took Skylar’s breath away. He must truly love this woman. The realization sent a pang of bittersweet longing through her heart. It hurt to think that in all their years together, Arye had never mentioned the person who had so thoroughly captured him.
“And does this paragon of virtue know of her good fortune?” Skylar asked, surprising herself with the hint of bitterness in her tone. She immediately wished she could undo her words, horrified at how transparent her emotions were.
Arye’s laugh was low and humorless. “I’m not sure she sees it as such,” he said. “She seems determined to push me away at every turn.”
The words struck too close to home. Skylar felt her carefully constructed facade begin to crack. “Perhaps she has her reasons,” she murmured.
“Perhaps,” Arye agreed, his eyes never leaving hers. “But I’ve never been one to give up easily.”
Skylar’s gaze darted around the room, wondering which of the stunning noblewomen was the one Arye fancied. Was it the statuesque blonde in emerald silk? Or could it be the petite brunette with eyes like liquid gold? Hot, bitter jealousy rose in her throat, threatening to choke her.
As the final notes of the song faded away, reality came crashing in. Skylar stepped back, dropping into a curtsy as Arye bowed. When she straightened, she found him significantly closer than before, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“Tell me, my lady,” Arye leaned in, his voice pitched low for her ears alone. His eyes glittered dangerously in the candlelight. “Why would you settle for marrying a man of lower status when you could have so much more?”
Confusion furrowed Skylar’s brow as she raced to decipher his meaning. She was hardly high-ranking herself, not anymore. And even if she were still a duke… there’d be no one of higher rank except?—
Pain lanced through her skull. The Gryphon roared to life, its warning unmistakable. Time slowed. Her senses sharpened. A flicker in her peripheral vision. A shadow where none should be. The glint of metal in candlelight.
Before she could react, chaos erupted.