Page 15

Archer had a voice I would never forget.

Even if he had saved me, I still couldn’t trust him.

My thoughts seemed to drift to him at the worst times, like now, when Antonia reached him first. Her shadow quell danced around her feet, subtle yet deliberate, as she batted her liquid silver eyes at him.

He brushed off her flirtation without a word, his gaze sliding past her and landing briefly on Malachi.

He must have a preference for blondes, I thought bitterly. Spring students were absent. Rumors swirled about their private classes and special wards.

It seemed everyone was willing to lose themselves to impress the Serpents.

Knight’s gravelly voice broke the tension. “Do any first-years wish to spar today? Five daggers win you a sword. We rotate realms against realms.” His gaze shifted to Damien. “Summer might be our champion this year.”

His tone grew stern. “Quells are prohibited until your second year. The more daggers you claim from other realms, the more eyes you’ll draw at the Bid. Combat builds strength—and alliances, should you win your title or graduate as a Griffin.”

I gripped the hilt of my dagger instinctively, the words sinking in. Titles, alliances, survival—it all came down to blood and blade.

Margaret went to raise a hand, but Knox beat her to it. He glanced at me, and before I could shake my head, he said, “Severyn Blanche will fight.”

I shot my brother a look of death. I knew he’d done it to ensure our legacy stayed within, but I couldn’t help the silent curses I threw at him. “No, I won’t,” I said loudly enough that nearly every student turned to face me.

I took a step back, and Myla widened her eyes, tracing over the bruises covering my exposed arms.

“Severyn, go.” Knox shoved me forward. “You can fight. Remember what Father and Charles taught you.”

Malachi stepped toward the circle. “I’ll go against Severyn. ”

My heart beat faster as Malachi tied back her hair, those almond-shaped, amber eyes hardening as a smile curled her lips.

We were each given a dagger of a similar length from an unknown territory.

The wood markings seemed to be from a Spring realm, with flowers carved along the handle and copper-stained metal.

We both bowed our necks, the courteous way to address someone before striking.

She swung before I could react, slicing my right leg. I countered her, and our blades collided. She grunted, aiming for my neck as I dove and rolled over my shoulder, stumbling onto my feet. She was quick. Years of calculated training showed in those lunges and dives.

“You’re fast,” she said breathlessly. “But you haven’t landed a single hit on me.”

“Perhaps I am learning you,” I yelled, dodging a second blow.

My blade hit her shoulder, she swung out of the way, and I took my moment to pounce and pin her chest down, elbow lodged into her throat as I held the blade against her neck.

“I also have four brothers,” I hissed.

She could have countered me, could have kicked her legs up and into my stomach, but she didn’t. She let me win, and for whatever reason? To show her weakness to others? For Monty to watch and curl his finger under his chin as all eyes were on me now.

“You won,” she breathed, gripping the blade’s sharp end.

I helped her up. Then Bridger ripped the dagger from Malachi’s grasp. “You let her win.” He stole the words right from my bitten tongue. “Let’s see—you against me, Colindale. Perhaps that’s what you need to gain your quell.”

I stared desperately at Professor Knight for him to interject, but he seemed just as interested in seeing the daughter of the Serpent and the lead to take North Colindale fight .

I caught my breath, keeping that dagger tight in my fist. “Fine,” I hissed.

Bridger didn’t bow or take the respectful three steps back. He swung right away, landing a blow on my shoulder and twisting. I screamed in pain as he dragged the blade under my shoulder—and something inside me tore. His leg came up, kicking the dagger from my sweaty hands as it flew behind me.

“You can’t do that,” I grunted, reaching for the dagger—fingers skimming the bare stone.

A boot pinned my chest down. My heart thumped as a rib popped, heat swelling in my cheeks. Then, it was only silver eyes peering at me. A valley of cruel ice consumed my sight as the blade pressed against my throat.

Bridger said to me, cold and bored, “Lesson one of combat, Blanche, never take your eyes off your opponent.” His boot shifted, and the sound of bones crunched in my wrist as Bridger stomped hard.

I gasped in pain. Sheer pain I’d never felt before.

The groans spewed in a stream of curses laced in my breath. My palm lay flat, flushed red, swelling as I gazed up. Cruel didn’t do his features justice.

“You broke my wrist,” I hissed, forcing back tears. I wouldn’t cry, not in front of the entire academy.

But pain gripped me—had me nearly crouched to my knees as I hurled forward. Pain. Had I ever felt pain like this? I stared at his severed fingers.

I was the daughter of the man he hated. The man he was forced to worship when his pain was silenced.

Knox ran to me, grabbing my elbow carefully. “You’re okay, Sev. We’ll take you to the healer.” Then, his eyes shot toward Bridger in a lash of blind rage. I swore he lit up like lightning struck his core. “What the hell, man? It’s her first day of combat. ”

Bridger raised his hands. “If she wants to be my ruler, she must earn that right.”

“Well, let me teach you a fucking lesson on hierarchy.” Knox barreled forward, punching him in the jaw, nose, and lips until blood splattered from Bridger’s cut, swollen face.

“If you touch her again, I will force you into a permanent bow.” And it took all but one Serpent, a professor, and two other males to pull Knox off Bridger’s body.

He wasn’t dead, but I was sure Knox would have killed him if he hadn’t been stopped. We bled the same shade. He and I were not so different. Knox jerked as Monty and Damien held him back.

I might have blacked out while leaning on Malachi’s arm as she brought me to the infirmary. My wrist dangled, limp at my side. The pain radiated through me—a raw, searing agony that demanded restraint to keep from screaming.

She laid me down on one of the twelve beds in the wing. Blazing lanterns hung overhead, their flickering light casting uneven shadows. Citrine and rust lingered in the air. Cracked white walls closed in around me as Malachi sat at the foot of the bed.

“Now, do you trust me?” she asked.

“Trust you?” I repeated, my cheek pressed against the rough cotton sheet, my free hand raised slightly in question.

“I heard you talking to Damien Lynch about me last night.”

Her words rang in my ears, muddled by the relentless pounding of my thoughts. How had she overheard that conversation? The pain was too unbearable to dwell on it. “I was curious who you were. I should have asked you.”

She signaled for an aide. “Damien’s hot. Go for it, but he’s got issues. I’ve known the brothers since I was young. We met at Serpent gatherings. ”

Through clenched teeth, I said, “We were just talking, Malachi.” I cursed under my breath, biting back the waves of agony. “My wrist is broken, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Someone like Bridger has never tasted freedom and won’t stop until he gets it,” she said. “Don’t let him win.”

The aide, a short woman with a curvy frame, approached briskly. “Oh dear, the first broken bone of the semester,” she hummed. “My name is Estella, and you are?” She smiled warmly, a few gray strands peeking above her ears.

“Severyn Blanche,” I muttered. The sound of my last name seemed to stretch her smile into wide-eyed recognition. Clawing panic churned in my gut as she lifted my arm and gave it a squeeze. My legs curled toward my chest instinctively, tight and protective.

Malachi rambled on, her tone as casual as if we were discussing the weather.

“Monty will kill me when I let my guard down. My best chance is seducing him, so he feels just a little guilt before slicing my throat. Trust me, Severyn, everyone wants to kill me. Some just to say they did.” She fisted the white linen sheets.

I nodded faintly, my focus split between her words and the sharp throbs of pain. “He’s not that impressive.”

“How many Blanche children are in that family of yours?” Estella asked. “Charles was lovely, such a handsome young man.”

She lifted my arm again, and I screamed. “There’s five of us,” I managed to choke out.

“Broken,” she confirmed, sighing softly. “There isn’t much I can do besides wrap it, dear. I’ll give you some pain medication to reduce the swelling, but it’ll be at least a week before the healer arrives. Do you think you can manage until then?”

“I can try,” I whispered .

“Severyn, speaking of Monty, I told him I’d meet him after combat,” Malachi said abruptly. “I feel like such an asshole leaving you, but Estella is wonderful, and she will poison Bridger if he tries to hurt you tonight.” She placed a hand on Estella’s shoulder with a grin. “Isn’t that right?”

Estella rolled her eyes. “I’m waiting for the poisons to arrive.”

“I’ll see you back in the room,” I said, giving Malachi a quick smile as she left. The heavy doors slammed closed. A window facing the dragon grounds rippled as her taps echoed through the hall.

“Remind me of your other siblings’ names.” Estella’s nose crinkled as she uncapped an orange bubbling liquid, dabbing it on a cloth.

“Only Charles and Klaus were students before. Knox is here with me. Cully, the second oldest, aged out three years ago. He attends Valscribe as a journalist.”

She ran the cloth over my shoulder. My blood congealed like gelatin, sliding down my arm.

A vile beside the table shuddered as a wing struck the building.

“Fallon was one of my closest friends during my student days here. Your father was so smitten with her. Seeing you makes me feel younger.”

“You knew my parents?” I groaned, slumping forward, swallowing a cry as my wrist moved an inch.