Page 38

Summer was in full swing. Parched leaves dotted the overgrown paths, and sweat clung to my skin, a second layer.

I felt like a flower, desperate for sunlight, as a tan darkened my complexion.

The more I realized how suffocated I’d been all my life, the more I despised myself.

It was a cruel thing, to blame my home, my heart—one that no longer beat for the chill of winter.

I earned another dagger from Alaric. I was two away from gaining a sword, thanks to Archer. I did not deserve that win.

Antonia glared at me as I sheathed the speckled grey-handled blade along my ribs. Twirling her black-glazed sword, she hissed from across the field, “Don’t get used to it, Blanche. Fire needs fuel, and you’re nearly starved for air. Archer only pitied you because of your brother, and you know it.”

She left with Alaric before I could respond .

Myla ran after me, Haziel squeaking as her barbed black feathers broke through. “Sev,” she called. “Callum asked to be against you in combat this week since it’s Winter against Summer. I wanted to warn you.” Bridger stayed a few steps back, arms crossed over his chest.

“Thanks for warning me. But I can handle him.”

“He’s pissed. Thinks you’re getting special treatment since Archer gave you two daggers.”

I licked my chapped lips. “Do you believe him?”

She sucked in a breath. “Maybe. It’s not exactly fair you’ve advanced to quells in your first year.”

“Why doesn’t Bridger vouch for you? Since he’s so close to Jenessa.”

A wax of frost billowed from Bridger’s fingertips. “Leave her, Myla. People like Severyn will only know luxuries and handouts. She’ll never be like us, and thank the Gods above, her father’s title is out of her hands.”

“You will never be my father’s heir,” I hissed at Bridger. “I’ll make sure of it.”

I didn’t owe Myla my life anymore—not since I saved hers. But the pain of what we were hurt. I lost Myla on the Winter Trails to the heart of someone who’d rip mine out if he got another chance.

I walked away before I said something I would regret even more.

Archer had been gone with Ciaran for three days. I’d grown used to his absence, though Naraic remained restless, his gaze drifting toward the clouds each night.

The ripple hit me before I saw the black wings slicing through the horizon.

Archer stood beneath the charred willow, leaning casually while Monty sparred beside him. The other Serpents watched with sharp, calculating eyes. A nervous flutter stirred in my stomach, but the cold weight of truth quickly smothered it.

I was his weapon.

Professor Knight read out the names of opponents: “Knox, Myla. Severyn, Callum. Malachi and Damien.”

Callum gave a low chuckle. He stretched his muscled arms as if he already felt victorious. I waited three days to hear his name and mine together. He’d finish me off here. He’d end me weeks before the Serpent bid, where my father would be forced to face the potential new heir of his land.

And I lied to Myla when I said I could handle him. I… did not want to feel ice crawling through my lungs again.

I owed it to the cold showers I forced myself to endure every day since that explosive fire. My fingers were nearly healed, with only slight scarring on the nailbeds.

Callum bowed before me. “Ladies first,” he said.

Myla kept her eyes on me. We’d both felt that shift when I became a Summer. Perhaps it was envy in her eyes as she watched the spark ignite in my palm.

I glanced at Callum’s boots. The same ones he’d worn that night. Thankfully, the impression didn’t scar. But a mind tended to scar differently than a body. Aches and bruises mended—but Callum had ensured his scars were deep.

Golden eyes narrowed, sizing me up.

Damien spoke in my mind, “He plans to strike you on your left and steal the dagger sheathed at your ribs.” I quickly glanced at Damien, but he was mid-bow to Malachi, grinning opposite me.

“Do not make it obvious I am helping you. Keep your eyes on him,” he hissed back, ripping out of my weak shield.

I did not bow as I said, “I’ll take the red sword if I win.”

Callum surveyed me, eyeing the daggers along my thigh and ribs.

“You have nothing that I want. All those daggers are basic and easily found throughout Verdonia. Although, I’ve heard the Serpents are more keen to speak and bet if they recognize their home dagger.

This sword was my first one. Said to have been wielded by the Forgotten children a hundred years before. ”

I drew the flame back. “I must have something you desire, Callum.”

Frost licked his lashes, eyes turning pale as snow. “Put in a good word for your father at the Serpent bid. Not that his opinion matters, but to have his daughter brag about me… Gods, that will be something.”

“Fine.” Flame boiled in my guts from that barter. I needed a sword, and I wouldn’t win them all—not when it would take another few weeks for me to earn another dagger. Weeks I didn’t have.

Frost coated his fingers, traveling toward his elbow.

An icicle struck from his palm, pointed and deadly, like the ones he’d used on that helpless shell I was weeks before.

He held it high, aiming straight for my heart.

A chill sucked down my lungs. Callum veered left as Damien had warned me, and I dove opposite, dodging that first blow that split a tree behind me.

My flame grew twice in size, reaching above my head in a whirl of ash. I snapped it at his chest, branding a mark along his t-shirt. The ice melted in his hands with a simmering hiss.

“Does Damien know you’re screwing his Serpent brother? Saw you leaving his room the other night,” he seethed. “But I’m not surprised. A girl like you gets everything she wants with a smile. I don’t think spreading your legs was necessary.”

I heard his words—heard them but could not process them beyond the rage that filled me to the brim with fire.

Fuck him.

Snow fell onto my forehead, melting with a hiss. “My father could create avalanches with his quell. A snowflake is hardly enough to stop a dozen beasts from attacking your realm. Might I suggest practicing more? How about it? Ward against ward. ”

His voice was hoarse as he raised his hand again. “Did you believe that was all I had?” The temperature dropped—only for me. It seemed every bone in my body was set on ice. My blood slowly froze. Legs numbed and stiffened as they wobbled to a defensive stance.

My fire dulled, frozen in a blaze. Then, all at once, not a single spark ignited.

“When you give up, scream my name this time. Fuck, that was good,” he growled.

I was losing, but at this point, I might have been dying, and it was that same bitter cold I’d felt as I collapsed on the Winter trails. My fingers greyed, fearing they’d snap with one twist of my knuckles.

A distant breath sounded in my mind. “Is that all you have? Oh, Severyn, I thought you were dangerous.”

It was Archer.

That bastard was speaking to me through our bond. “Klaus would have burnt his toes off by now. What does it take to bring that flame out? Is it anger? Because I will piss you off if that is it.”

“Try it,” I screamed in my head. I didn’t care if Damien heard. This was life or death.

My fingers wouldn’t budge. My throat seized, frozen from the spit in my lungs. A crystalized gleam of ice splintered toward my elbow, like a lake growing that first layer of hardened frost.

“It’s not working,” I cried in my mind.

“I didn’t want it to be you.”

My chest tightened as a single, jarring, heated pulse echoed through me.

“Because I am weak,” I asked.

“Because you are his sister, and I try to hate you more every day because you will never be him, but I am reminded that his blood runs through your veins. You are his last shred of warmth capable of making me feel something other than despair. Wield the damn flame, Severyn. Wield it now, or I will force it out of you through any means.”

“How?” I cried. “Do… I wield it?”

“I could turn you on. Even the sound of my voice ignites you.”

Another blow of ice hit my lungs . “That won’t work.”

“You could leave my bedroom in my shirt again. But we’d actually fuck, unlike the rumor he just spread about us.” He dared to breathe down our bond again. “Does that heat you, Severyn? The thought of you and me alone.”

“Not in any realm would I—”

My clothing was soaked in thawed slush. That flame sputtered out, growing claws as it circled me. “Get out!” I choked aloud, ash coating the backs of my teeth. “Get the fuck out!”

Then, a black flame slammed into the stone steps, slithering. Callum yelped as his shirt caught fire.

I became the flame. I traveled up his sleeve, consuming every fiber in my wrath of heat. Callum rolled on the ground, arms flailing. I let him suffer for a moment, let his clothes burn to ash as he’d left me bare and stripped on the iced grounds.

I walked three steps toward him, pressing a firm boot on his chest before I grabbed the hot metal handle of the sword, bowing as the flame sucked back into my palm.

I leaned down in a whisper, “My father will know precisely who you are and how his daughter took your first sword.”

Smoke and smog veiled us, but through the grey haze, Monty crossed his arms as he said, “Severyn Blanche has earned her first sword. And damn… she’s got some angst in her.”

The words I never thought I’d hear. And Callum was silent on the ground, rolling around in blistered pain. Myla helped him up and took him toward the infirmary .

My body felt thawed, as though I’d been frozen in a glacier for a hundred years. My teeth chattered uncontrollably. Damien wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close against his chest. “Let’s get you warm,” he murmured.

I nodded, refusing to glance back at Archer’s shadow. He wouldn’t know he’d been the one to save me. I wouldn’t give him that.

There would be no Skyfall training today. Not when my fingers couldn’t form a fist, and hiding felt far safer than facing Archer again.