Page 48

Naraic had a rough start, tilting left as we glided over the grey ocean of silken waves. Starlight guided us north along the coast, and I saw how far the academy stretched, how those ice peaks never melted, and how daylight shattered only in one quadrant.

Riding with Ciaran and Naraic was something of a dream—their wings were in sync, each breath timed, nose to nose. Our veins became one as each pound of his chest matched mine, along with that much softer beat I thought might have been Archer.

Evening twilight held high, consuming that last bit of orange-hued sunset until we rode through the pitch-black night.

I kept my eyes on the sea above, masking the oiled waters below, even as sleep groaned in my dry eyes, the salt stinging with every blink.

I dragged my arm along Naraic’s neck as hours passed.

It was unbelievable that Archer made this trek every other week to attend to his Serpent duties.

If I won Serpent, what would become of us? If we were worlds apart? The Night districts were on the other end of Verdonia, near the capital… near Malvoria.

If I won the Serpent title… those callous dreams never reached beyond my whirred thoughts, never touched the light, even more so now as my life was strung with withered cords as the bid approached.

Heat blew against my face as we entered Ravensla.

I wasn’t tired anymore, but my legs throbbed from tightly gripping Naraic as the wind picked up and the claw-like waves ripped through the greyed sea.

The dragons’ wings tucked low as the city bloomed before us.

Rows and rows of villas traced along the shoreline.

Castles jutted through the sand dunes. Summer’s air was hot and heavy, sucking through my clenched throat as we landed.

Ravensla. My mother’s hometown.

A dozen other dragons lounged lazily along the sandy shore. Archer casually tossed the last bits of dried chicken at Ciaran and Naraic, the dragons’ tails coiled around his waist. With voracious delight, they devoured the treat.

“Stay close, right by my side,” Archer commanded abruptly, seizing my hand and yanking me beside him. “The city is dangerous this time of year.”

All those hours of fighting sleep faded.

“My mother was raised here,” I said in awe, gazing at sculptures of sand carved into humans and dragons—almost frozen in time as snarled snouts gaped along the cobblestone path how each wrinkle on those feared faces was captured art that only years of sculpting could create.

Each scale was different, detailed to precision.

“I know,” he said. “Klaus told me your mother was born here. Seems like your family hid a lot from you. ”

I couldn’t keep my eyes off the sculptures. “Are they—” I couldn’t say the word. That art had to be real at one point, breathing and living years before.

“Ravensla has a dark history. They are mummified travelers from the settler days. The stories speak of a woman who could turn anything breathing into sand.”

“Was it a forbidden quell?”

“Yes, there are good people with dangerous quells and evil who seek to find them. Take Seekers. Most of Verdonia’s scriptures of the future were written during the Forgotten days when quells knew no bounds.

But those Seekers were worked until bone jutted from their fingers, and they practically bled ink.

” He continued, “It wasn’t until one wrote the story of the king’s bloodline that the Herrings killed off every Seeker in Verdonia. ”

“They weren’t stripped?” I gasped. “Do you know what the scripture wrote?”

A city appeared before us, dazzled in lanterns, shabby brick buildings, and tapestries strewn within the narrowed streets.

“It did not speak of secrets or death but that of a forbidden love story. It spoke of an overthrown crown by a mixed blood. Seekers are perhaps the most dangerous quell to exist. To know the death of you and everyone you love and care about, to know a world exists beyond your time.”

“Malachi will take the throne. She deserves it,” I said.

“No. Monty has plotted Malachi’s death since day one of the academy.

It is scribed that the blood of a Herring will stain the lands.

She’s aware. Why do you think she has spent every waking moment with him?

Malachi stands in the way of anyone taking the throne.

Her mother was killed, and it drove her father mad.

She had five siblings who all died at the academy.

Malachi is the only living Herring who can take the king’s throne, but it is down to one of us if she dies. The rise of a new line of royalty. ”

Archer looked off into the distance, past the lurching sea beside us. “I’ve heard stories that some wrote of a Lynch taking the throne. I tried my best to bury that. Then, I realized how deadly that quell was, how mad it made people.” Archer shook his head.

“Did you go mad?”

“Nearly. Klaus’s death didn’t help. We bonded fast, unlike you and me. I believe we are night and day when it comes to our differences. I knew you had to grow, that I would have to let you fall before you could fly.”

“You mean to die? You are withholding a cure from me.”

Archer scoffed. “There was no cure. Those snakes are deadly but not poisonous. I wanted you to see what you could be, and I don’t trust Damien. I know you like him, and he’s your friend, but Damien knows your mind—knows what you want to hear, Severyn.”

I steeled before the rage heated my veins. “He doesn’t trust you, and I don’t blame him.”

Archer cocked his head. “And why is that?”

It wasn’t ash I choked on, but the truth. “Your mother. Damien knew about her death, and you never believed him.”

“Not believing him was the worst thing I’d ever done.

But you must understand—we were raised to be Serpents.

Your brothers were, too. My parents never had a marriage of love and laughter.

We spent our entire childhood fighting with swords and brawling until we bled.

I was raised to be great.” His voice grew along the path, echoing back.

“I didn’t believe Damien because that meant my life was damaged. ”

“How do you know I wasn’t raised to be a Serpent? Damien was sent away to boarding school. He needed someone while you were partying at Serpent gatherings.”

Archer looked down. “I assumed you never wanted the title. Klaus was trained and already had his quell, but you were different. You seemed lost. I spent many hours with Klaus. You seemed to be a proud topic of his… I can see why.”

I brushed a loose strand of hair back. “Klaus had his quell before he joined?”

“You never knew?”

I wondered if all secrets craved air, if they could never truly exist without light, without voice. “Do we ever… truly find ourselves?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Is being a Serpent… worth it?”

We walked the dimmed pathway toward the city. “I still ask that. I’m not as cruel as you perceive me to be.” He let out a breath of air. “You did kill my lead heir. Perhaps it is you I should be worried about?” He raised a brow, the humor replaced with something I couldn’t understand.

“She was after Naraic. I had no choice,” I said.

“First blood is always the most impressionable.”

How many lives had he taken? “Do I dare ask who your first blood was?”

Disdain crossed his features. “Perhaps another day. Right now, we need to find an inn that has a vacancy. The Ravensla Harvest is quite grand this time of year. Most of the wine for the Continent is produced here. It harbors some of the finest fruits of our land.” His fingers grazed mine.

“scavengers are everywhere, and someone like you they would love to get their hands on.”

“You mean my neval streak?” I swallowed hard as I glanced back at Naraic and Ciaran, curled up together and resting. It reminded me of the house cats we had back home and how their fur would blend as one as they slept by the windowsill.

“I meant your beauty, but your neval streak is quite a stir around these coasts.”

My stomach heated. “In other words, I am tradeable?”

Eyes ahead on the bright city, he said, “Take the damn compliment, Severyn. ”

“Is that an order, Serpent?” But as soon as I said it, his face fell.

The city welcomed us with dancers dressed in flowing silk garments and bedazzled eye masks as they performed along the streets.

Lanterns hung from the brick and sand buildings, and colorful fabrics were strewn across the wooden canopies, leading through winding paths made entirely of cemented sand and seashells.

Vendors beckoned us toward their wooden carts of trinkets, masks concealing everything besides their eyes.

The streets smelled of cooked meat and citrus, and then we were in the cluster of the city.

A crowd circled around a man whose face was half teal scales.

An arched mustache curled the slender frame of his face.

Gold coins danced by his feet as the spectators watched his show.

His hand raised, and out came a translucent dragon, no more than the size of a rabbit.

It flew around the alley, doing flips and swirls in the air before dragging back into his hand like tethered smoke.

I stopped dead in my tracks. “What is that?” I asked Archer. “It’s mesmerizing.”

“An illusionist. You don’t want to get trapped by one. They can alter your mind and force you to see things. It’s an older quell, not very useful unless you wish to spend your life as a street performer.”

“Do you believe that all quells should be a weapon? I mean, it’s sort of beautiful how he can create art with his mind,” I said.

“I enjoy beautiful women and sunsets—a quell is not beautiful. A quell is your worth in a world where power is everything.”

I didn’t hear his response. A soft buzz sounded, almost like static crawling along my eardrums. “Can we stay for a moment?” It was as if my mind was roped with chains to the performer, and even taking one more step, I felt I’d miss something great .