Page 43 of Shardless
Taly almost managed to wriggle out of Skye’s grip, but he tightened his hold on her, his arm looping around her waist as he lifted her off her feet. “Hurry, Aiden,” he grunted when Taly managed to kick him in the shin. “She’s reopening her wounds.”
“Got it.” Tendrils of earth magic lapped at the healer’s skin as he cupped Taly’s face. “Shhh… it’s alright, Taly. I’m just going to give you something for the pain. Everything’s going to be alright. I promise.”
“Please don’t do this,” Taly tried one last time, her eyes wide and frightened. She was having difficulty focusing on Aiden’s face now. Images of the harpy, motionless and still, clouded her vision, pushing away all other thoughts. She saw itsgaping mouth, felt the sting of its stationary claw as it raked her skin. Time had stopped. She had done that. She had made time stop. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Leave me. It’s better if you leave me.”
The last thing she remembered before the world faded to black was the feeling of Skye’s lips pressed against her brow and his whispered words of comfort as he gently lowered her to the ground.
Chapter 8
-A letter from Lord Aris Thorne to his stepdaughter, Aimee Bryer
Dearest Aimee,
I hope this letter finds you well. Alas, I was very disappointed to hear of your lack of progress with the young Lord Emrys. A girl with your charms should have no problem seducing a young man—especially one with the Duke-to-be’s “reputation.” You will have to try harder if you’re to become the future Duchess of Ghislain. I should not have to remind you of the political sway his family carries at court or how it would benefit our household to secure such an auspicious and enduring alliance.
Also, your mother is pregnant again. She has been put on bedrest in the hopes of avoiding another miscarriage. I can only hope that this pregnancy will not prove to be as much of a disappointment asthe others. She anxiously awaits your return.
Respectfully,
Lord Aris Thorne of House Thanos
No matter how hard she tried, Aimee was having trouble mustering any enthusiasm for her needlepoint this morning. It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining high overhead, and the cool breeze ruffled her hair where she sat in front of her open window. But despite the picturesque scene, she couldn’t shake the melancholy that seemed to hang over her like a cloud.
Throwing down her embroidery hoop, Aimee leaned back, letting her head dangle over the back of the damask settee. Who was she kidding? She knew why she was upset. While she had never been particularly fond of Talya, she had never wanted to see her hurt.
It had been absolute chaos when they arrived back at the manor. Ivain had already smelled the blood, and he and Sarina were waiting for them at the stables when they arrived. Between the yelling and the crying and the frantic rush of servants back and forth as Aiden snapped orders at them, it had taken the better part of the evening to finally get Talya stabilized. Her brother had been working tirelessly ever since, barely stopping to eat or sleep, but even now, almost a day later, the girl had yet to wake up.
Aimee sunk down further into her seat. Although she had been doing her best to stay outof the way, curiosity had taken her by the girl’s room the previous night when everything had finally gone quiet. For as long as she lived, she would never forget just how frail Talya had looked, pale and unmoving, as she lay in her bed surrounded by a sea of blankets. The image of that dark room, of Skylen kneeling by the young mortal’s bedside silently pleading with her to wake up—that would always be with her now.
Aimee turned her head when she heard footsteps echoing down the hall. Smoothing the wrinkles out of the pale blue satin of her dress, she stood and turned to face the door. When Sarina appeared in the doorway, an unreadable expression on her face, Aimee dropped down into a deep courtesy. “Lady Castaro.”
“Shards, girl,” Sarina grumbled, waving a dismissive hand. “How many times do I have to tell you? We don’t care if you use formalities here.” Shuffling across the room, Sarina fell back into the plush velvet chair opposite Aimee and let out a weary sigh. The woman’s usually immaculate auburn hair fell around her shoulders in tangles, and she was still wearing the same wrinkled muslin dress Aimee had seen her in the previous day.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Sarina,” Aimee mumbled as she took her seat, her back stiff and straight. She knew that neither the Castaros nor Skylen cared much for court formalities, but she found she could never completely abandon her training. Her stepfather had been very strict about observing stations of rank when she was growing up. Aiden always had a much easier time fitting in when they came to visit the island. “How is Talya this morning?”
Sarina shook her head sadly. “No change, I’m afraid.”
Aimee picked up her embroidery hoop, needing something to keep her hands busy. “I… I know I’ve said it already, but Iamsorry.”
Sarina studied her, and it was all Aimee could do not to shrink back. When her aunt had heard the full account of what happened at the Aion Gate, she hadn’t said anything. She had just stared at Aimee for several agonizingly long moments, silent and stony, before turning to walk away.
“Are you?” the older noblewoman asked, an unfamiliar edge to her voice. “Are youtrulysorry?”
Aimee stared at her hoop and the tiny blue flowers she had been embroidering around the edges. “How could you even ask that?” she whispered, discreetly wiping at her eyes.
Sarina gave her a withering glare. “Darling, do you think my brother and I are stupid? We know you don’t come to Tempris to visit us. You come to see Skye. And considering how close he and Taly are, it’s not unreasonable to assume that you might think having her out of the way would increase your chances of finally wooing him.”
Aimee turned to look out the window, swallowing hard past a sudden lump in her throat. She couldn’t deny that when she heard Talya had moved out, she had thought that she might finally be able to get some alone time with Skylen. During her previous visits, he and the little mortal were hardly ever separated.
“Tell me something, Aimee,” Sarina said, pouring herself a cup of tea from a pot that had long gone cold. “Why do you bother? You and Skye are completely unsuited for one another.”
“And who is suited for him?” Aimee snapped without thinking. “Some shardless?”
“Watch your tongue, dear,” Sarina said with a dangerous smile. “We don’t use that word in this household. You would also be wise to remember that even though she is not bound to me by blood, Taly is my child. If you are going to speak ill of her, you will promptly remove yourself from my home.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Sarina. That was unkind of me.” Aimee sighed despondently. Her shoulders began to slump forward, but she quickly straightened. “And… I’m not blind. I can plainly see that Skylen barely tolerates me. I’ve told my stepfather over and over again that I don’t think it’s going to work, that Skylen will never consent to an offer of marriage, but… he never listens. Lord Thorne insists that I’m just not trying hard enough. Some of the things he tells me to do…” Her voice trailed off as she remembered her stepfather’s parting words:Just get the boy drunk and mount him already.
“I know,” Sarina said, sipping her tea. Her nose scrunched up, and she placed the teacup in her palm. Her fingers began to glow, almost like embers, and wafts of steam rose from the liquid’s surface as the warming spell took effect. Taking another sip, she nodded before refocusing on Aimee. “I’m well acquainted with how Lord Aris Thorne’s mind works. That man is vile, and it makes me sick that your household’s Matriarch gave your mother to him when your father died.”
