Chapter 41
41
“ Y ou knew.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation. Skylar’s chest heaved, lungs burning from her frantic flight through the palace gardens. The heady scent of night-blooming jasmine mingled with the metallic tang of blood still clinging to her skin.
Arye’s grip on her wrist was iron, his fingers digging into her flesh with an intensity that matched the storm in his eyes. Skylar wrenched her arm free, stumbling back. The cool grass beneath her bare feet was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from him.
“All this time,” she spat, anger burning in her throat. “You knew, and you said nothing. You let me believe—” The words choked her, rage and betrayal clawing at her insides like a feral beast.
Arye stepped forward, his face a battlefield of conflicting emotions. “Sky, I?—”
“Don’t.” Skylar held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. Her voice dropped, dangerous as a drawn blade. “How long? How long have you known?”
Arye’s shoulders sagged, the fight seeming to drain out of him. “Since we were children. During sparring. I noticed… things.”
The world tilted on its axis. All those years of careful deception, of binding her chest until she could barely breathe, of pitching her voice low and affecting masculine mannerisms… and he’d known all along. A cold, bitter laugh escaped from deep within her.
“So everything—our friendship, our bond—it was all a lie?” The words tasted like ash on her tongue.
Something dangerous flashed in Arye’s eyes. He narrowed the gap between them in two quick strides. Skylar instinctively backed away, her spine pressing against the rough bark of an ancient oak.
“No,” he growled, the word rumbling through his chest. “You were my Duke, my friend, my comrade. And the woman I wanted. All of it, Sky. All of you.”
Skylar’s heart slammed against her ribs, a war drum pounding out confusion and desire. “Then why?” she whispered, hating the tremor in her voice. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Arye’s laugh was cold enough to freeze hell itself. He braced one arm against the tree, caging her in. “Because I’m a selfish bastard, Sky. I wanted you for myself. If I kept your secret, no man would approach you. I could wait…” He trailed off, shadows dancing across his features. “But I didn’t account for how much my desire would grow. And then you were going to be engaged, and suddenly?—”
“There was nothing you could do,” Skylar finished, pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. She shook her head, a mirthless smile twisting her lips. “You played the long game, didn’t you? And I must have looked so foolish, constantly worrying about my secret.”
Shame and anger warred within her, heating her cheeks. She ducked under Arye’s arm, pushing past him, needing space to breathe, to think. Her tattered gown swirled around her legs as she moved, the silk whispering against her skin.
“I had to get rid of my father first,” Arye said quietly, stopping Skylar in her tracks. “Otherwise, he would have… well, you saw what he almost did.”
The memory of King Lyinell’s cruel words, his predatory gaze, sent ice through Skylar’s veins. She turned slowly, meeting Arye’s eyes. “What about my mother? My family?”
“Nothing will change for the Anathemarks,” Arye assured her, his tone gentle. He took a step towards her, then seemed to think better of it, remaining where he stood. “I give you my word.”
He reached for something at his hip, and Skylar tensed instinctively. But Arye merely held out her sword, handle first. “I believe this belongs to you.”
Skylar took the weapon, its familiar weight grounding her. She ran her fingers along the intricate engravings, feeling the grooves that had become an extension of herself. “It was my father’s,” she murmured, sadness creeping into her voice.
“I know.”
A thought struck Skylar then, and she frowned. “The Gryphon… I think it’s gone. I can’t feel it anymore.”
Arye’s eyebrows rose, surprise flickering across his features. “That’s… probably for the best. But why?”
Skylar shook her head, frustration evident in the set of her jaw. “I don’t know. It just… disappeared.” She looked down at her hands, half-expecting to see some physical change.
A heavy silence fell between them, thick with unspoken questions and simmering tension. Skylar’s mind raced, trying to reconcile this new reality with everything she thought she knew. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she asked, “Was there ever anyone else? Any noble woman who?—”
“No,” Arye cut her off. “It was always you, Sky. Only you.”
“But the women you met with sometimes…” Skylar pressed, not sure she really wanted to hear the answer. She took a step closer, searching his face for any sign of deception.
Arye’s expression darkened, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “I always imagined—” He broke off, shaking his head. “It wasn’t what I wanted. It was never enough.”
Skylar swallowed hard, her next question a whisper. “And if I had truly been a man? Would you have felt the same?”
A ghost of a smile played at Arye’s lips. He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from Skylar’s face. She shivered at the contact but didn’t pull away. “Honestly? I probably wouldn’t have cared. I love you for who you are, Sky.” His grin widened, a hint of mischief creeping into his voice. “Though I’ll admit, I definitely prefer women.”
A startled laugh escaped Skylar’s lips, the tension between them easing slightly. “I suppose you knew about the men I sometimes met, too?”
Arye’s sudden silence was answer enough. His hand dropped to his side, fingers curling into a fist. Skylar’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “So it was you,” she breathed, the implications of his actions sinking in.
Before she could dwell on it further, another memory surfaced. “That night,” she began hesitantly, taking a half-step closer. “Do you remember?—”
“The night we kissed?” Arye finished, his words low and husky. He closed the distance between them, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. “I thought it was a dream at first. The best night of my life, confirming everything I wanted.” His eyes darkened with desire, thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip. “But once I had a taste, a glimpse… I wanted more. So much more.”
Skylar’s breath caught in her throat, heat blooming in her core at the intensity of his gaze. She backed away, needing distance to clear her head. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew I’m a woman? When I rejected you?”
Arye’s expression softened, a trace of vulnerability creeping into his features. “I wanted to wait until you told me yourself. But…” He smiled sadly, letting his hand fall away. “That probably would have never happened, thanks to your damned sense of duty.”
The truth of his words hit Skylar like a physical blow. Years of unrequited, forbidden love came crashing down around her, shattering the carefully constructed walls she’d built to protect her heart. Arye’s admission shed new light on his past behavior—his fierce protectiveness, his sometimes inexplicable decisions, his unwavering focus on her.
Relief warred with joy and fear in Skylar’s chest. Relief that her love wasn’t unrequited after all. Joy at Arye’s acceptance and love. And fear… fear of what this meant for them, for Regalclaw, for their future.
She turned away, overwhelmed by the tide of emotions threatening to drown her. The chaos of the ball, the war, the fate of the kingdom—it all seemed so distant now, lost in the gravity of this moment.
“Sky?” Arye’s voice was hesitant, almost fragile. “Does this mean… are you rejecting me again?”
Skylar turned back to face him, truly seeing him for perhaps the first time. The vulnerability in his eyes, the slight tremor in his hands, the tension in his shoulders—it all spoke volumes.
“Is it because of what I am?” Arye pressed, voice raw. “The wicked ways of my love?”
In that moment, Skylar understood. His fear that the people he’d hurt, his possessiveness, might have scared her away. But she knew the truth. She loved Arye—all of him. The darkness and the light, the cruelty and the tenderness. She would follow him down whatever path he chose, even if it led straight to hell.
With trembling fingers, Skylar reached out and took Arye’s hand. She felt his surprise in the slight tremor that ran through him, saw it in the widening of his eyes.
“You might know a lot about me, Arye,” she said softly, her thumb tracing circles on his palm. “But there’s one thing you haven’t figured out.” She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the confession. “My Divine Beast… it wasn’t formed by loyalty to the kingdom. It was born from my feelings for you.”
Arye’s eyes widened as the meaning of her words set in. In a fluid motion, he sank to one knee before her, bringing her hand to his lips.
“Duchess Anathemark,” he murmured against her skin, his voice filled with reverence and barely contained desire, “please marry me. Become the Queen of Regalclaw.”
Tears pricked at Skylar’s eyes, a tremulous smile curving her lips. “Are you sure?” she whispered, hardly daring to believe this was real. Her free hand came to rest on Arye’s cheek, feeling the slight stubble there.
Arye’s answering grin was positively wicked. He turned his face, pressing a kiss to her palm. “You shouldn’t ask questions to which you already know the answers, my love.”
A laugh bubbled up from Skylar’s chest, light and free in a way she hadn’t felt in years. “I could get used to seeing you on your knees,” she teased, her fingers tightening around his.
“Oh, I’m quite sure I’d enjoy that too,” Arye replied, his eyes dancing with promise. The heat in his gaze sent a shiver down Skylar’s spine.
He rose to his feet, never breaking eye contact. “Marry me, Sky,” he said again, his voice low and intense. “I told you long ago—just say it, and I’ll burn down everything for you. Your wish is my command.”
Skylar’s heart soared, years of longing and desire finally finding their release. “Yes,” she breathed, the single word carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken promises.
As Arye stood, pulling her flush against him, Skylar felt a surge of boldness. She wound her arms around his neck, reveling in the liberty to touch him freely. “King Arye,” she said, her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart, “obey my first order: kiss me.”
A slow, predatory smile spread across Arye’s face. “As you wish, my Queen,” he growled, before crushing his lips to hers.
The world exploded into sensation. Arye’s lips were hot, demanding, claiming her with a ferocity that stole Skylar’s breath away. His tongue swept over her lower lip, seeking entrance, and she opened to him with a soft moan that vibrated through both their bodies.
Arye’s arms tightened around her waist, lifting her off her feet. Skylar felt weightless, anchored only by his touch. She wound her fingers into his hair, reveling in its silky texture, tugging slightly and eliciting a deep groan from Arye that sent shivers down her spine.
Their tongues danced, tasted, explored. Years of pent-up desire poured into every caress, every heated breath. Skylar nipped at Arye’s lower lip, drawing it between her teeth, and was rewarded with a low, animalistic growl that made heat pool in her core.
Arye’s hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. One hand slid up her back, fingers splaying across her shoulder blades, while the other dipped lower, gripping her hip with a fervor that would surely leave marks. Skylar arched into him, pressing every inch of her against his solid form.
The kiss deepened, grew more desperate. Skylar wanted to lose herself in him, to forget everything but this moment, this feeling. She clung tighter, kissed harder, pouring all her longing into each touch.
Arye broke away, trailing scorching kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat. Skylar tilted her head back, exposing more skin to his hungry mouth. When he reached the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder, he bit down gently, then soothed the sting with his tongue.
A breathy moan escaped Skylar’s lips, her body trembling with need. “Arye,” she gasped, his name a prayer and a plea.
He captured her lips, swallowing her cries. One hand tangled in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss even further. The other slid down to her thigh, hitching her leg up around his waist. The new position pressed them impossibly closer, and Skylar could feel every hard plane of Arye’s body against her softer curves.
When they finally broke apart, both were gasping for air. Skylar’s lips felt swollen, her body thrumming with electricity. She felt Arye’s heart pounding against her chest, matching the frantic rhythm of her own.
Arye rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming in hot pants against her lips. His eyes were dark with desire, pupils blown wide. “Sky,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.”
Skylar’s fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, marveling at the freedom to touch him. “Show me,” she breathed, surprised by her own boldness. “Show me how much you want me.”
A low, hungry sound rumbled in Arye’s chest. He claimed her lips again, pouring all his longing, all his love into the kiss. And as the night air hummed around them, filled with the scent of jasmine and the promise of more, Skylar knew that this was just the beginning.