Page 50

A pale white gown was placed on the bed that morning. Gold lace traced the slim fitted bodice, elegantly flowing past my knees with a pearl-lined hood hung from the backside.

Archer was gone. His bow, his daggers—everything packed. For a moment, I thought he’d left me stranded as punishment for kicking him in my sleep.

Descending the stairs, I made my way to the reception area. There he was, seated with Lynwood, a steaming cup of tea in hand. Another cup waited on the table across from him.

He looked different today. A flowing white tunic, neatly tucked into black slacks, hung perfectly on his frame. His bow rested across his shoulder, and his damp hair was combed back, gleaming faintly in the morning light. He appeared impossibly normal, yet effortlessly striking .

Lynwood turned to face me, his one eye gleaming with that bright light I had seen last night. “Good morning, Severyn. I hope you slept well after the illusionist got to you.”

I nodded, forcing my gaze away from Archer. “I’ll keep my eyes out from now on.”

Lynwood’s eye danced between Archer and me with a curious expression. “Is this your first time visiting the city?”

“Yes, actually, my mother was born here. You mentioned you knew Fallon?”

“Fallon was unforgettable. She came from no title, and her parents were scavengers. My parents always fed her. She wasn’t like the others.

She never stole. But when the king visited and invited her to the academy, your mother made her mark during her days there.

Top of her class, everyone thought she’d win Serpent that year.

Ravensla had gone years without a Serpent.

The city was nearly barren before Victor claimed heir. ”

“My mother was a scavenger?” I nearly choked on the tea. I thought of those ratted, cloaked figures I’d seen overlooking the grounds as we flew.

“Yes. Most scavengers don’t possess quells, and for hers to be forbidden was rare—Fallon was rare. And that birthmark certainly held its name.” His eye flickered to my bangs.

I nodded at Archer, sipping my tea. “Was your grandfather not a Serpent? How did the city go years without a leader?”

Lynwood strummed his fingers along the wooden coffee table.

“Veravine Almera ruled over Ravensla as Verdonia’s sixth Summer Serpent for two decades.

Rumors say she fell in love with the king when they were at the academy.

The queen had her killed, knowing she couldn’t compare to Veravine.

There was no heir for Ravensla, and as many lands turned ashen with the attacks from the Forgotten, we all waited until a Summer student would claim heir.

Scavengers nearly took the land over for those years.

I’m sure Victor is keeping close tabs on your brother to hopefully bear him an heir.

Victor poured his blood and tears into reviving the land. He did what many could never do.”

“And the king allowed his wife to destroy a land over a rumor?” I asked, glancing at Archer. “Wasn’t the king scripted to have a forbidden love?”

“Well,” Lynwood began. “A rumor like that could destroy a marriage and a Continent—one life is not worth that fallout. Veravine was our leader. Her flame warmed our hearts. The country truly loved her. Not to take away from Victor’s accomplishments.”

Archer crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “That story could have been about Veravine. Most of the literature from their time at the academy was burned.”

“I try not to feed into all that nonsense,” said Lynwood, fixing his crooked eyepatch. “Seekers were known to spread rumors as payback.”

I could only imagine being forced to write until bone protruded from your fingers would make anyone mad. “Do you know anything else about my mother? Forgive me, I feel like I never knew the real Fallon.”

“I knew the real Fallon,” he said, clutching his teacup tighter.

“This was nearly three decades ago, and my memory isn’t the best regarding the minor details.

Fallon never returned home after that. Even her parents never.

.. came back for her. We weren’t sure where they came from.

Scavengers come and go; they barter whatever odds and ends they can get their hands on.

Fallon was the black sheep of the street dwellers.

I remember my mother brushing the tangles from her hair once a week and washing her torn clothes. She never stole, never once.”

He glanced inside his teacup. “I wondered how she was. I heard she married a Winter Serpent, and I think Fallon just wanted a home.” Lynwood placed his mug down. “Please tell her I said hello next time you see her. ”

Archer studied me as if my entire life had just been laid out for him to analyze.

“Klaus never mentioned your mother was a scavenger. I don’t think he knew.

But it makes sense why Winter did not call to you now.

My father’s roots have been in the Summer for centuries.

But Father was the first Serpent on his side.

I would be curious to know where Kian is called next year when he gets his letter. ”

Archer stood up. “Speaking of Kian, we should be heading out soon. It is an hour’s travel out of the city by horseback.”

“We can’t ride Naraic and Ciaran?” I asked.

“The city has a no-flying ban during festival season,” Lynwood said. “Some creatures are volatile. Best not to have bloodshed in the skies.”

We said our goodbyes and headed toward the city’s core, where the architecture was even more breathtaking in light.

Horses trotted along the paths, hauling wagons of fruit.

Dust blew within the wind’s flurry as crowds drew by.

Colorful cloths of rich reds and yellows were strewn across the buildings as makeshift tarps.

I saw a few scavengers with their hoods drawn as their inky eyes stalked the crowds with curled fingers beckoning.

One darted across the street, snatching a woman’s gold bracelet from around her wrist. I shuddered.

That was my mother’s life of never knowing where her next meal would come from and bartering whatever she could to survive.

We stood in the alley for a moment, and then Archer faced me, hitching my cloak over my head. “Don’t leave my side,” he said, offering me his hand.

I hesitated for a moment before taking it, my pulse quickening at the subtle warmth of his touch. Tightening my grip, I followed as we sprinted through the crowded streets of Ravensla.

A black stallion awaited us near the stables. Archer helped me up, his hands lingering briefly on my waist. I steadied myself on the horse’s broad spine, adjusting to the size difference of Naraic. “He’s a bit different than Naraic,” I chuckled nervously.

“Serpent—” a man hissed, running toward us with his hood pulled over his head. A dozen eyes shifted toward us as Archer’s name hissed under their breaths. He waved casually as he mounted the horse behind me, his movements fluid and practiced.

“You get used to everyone knowing your name. I hoped the clothes would allow us to blend in, but I suppose not,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with amusement.

Jerking forward, I instinctively wrapped my arms around his ribs as he softly nudged the horse. “Never leave my sight here. There are good people in these streets, but if they see a woman with me, some may try to take you and sell you back at a price I am unwilling to find out.”

I tightened my grip, my cheeks burning at the closeness. “How much am I worth?” I scoffed, trying to mask my flustered nerves.

“Priceless,” he murmured, his tone so soft it barely reached me over the clatter of hooves.

Heat rose to my cheeks again, and this time, I couldn’t hide it. I didn’t know how to respond, so I left the galloping stallion to take us through the never-ending paths.

The sun held high, soaking onto our backs as we rode eastbound.

We passed by a few smaller towns near the outskirts of Ravensla, each just as vibrant as the last. A few scavengers walked through the desert lands, heavy woven bags high on their shoulders, chains and trinkets dangling from their baggy clothes.

A row of sand warriors jutted in the distance.

And I imagined the ferocity of that woman who stood before them, the fear staining their widened eyes as that woman struck them and made them into the sand.

Sand turned into grass, striking a lush garden of ivy and bramble.

And it was as though we had entered another realm.

The sun was hidden behind a cloud bank, giving a few moments of shadow.

We entered another township, crossing over a wobbling bridge where ocean water drew through the coastal village, winding along the paths.

Grimswire. I read the silver sign as we passed under it.

A few large ships swayed in the current, docked to stone.

This village was richer than the others as guards patrolled the streets, ensuring each passing had met their eyes.

The golden-haired guard nodded at Archer as we carried on.

Colorful fish swam in pools beneath us. We passed a clock tower and a few pointed buildings made from silvered stone and other fine materials.

And it was as if every metal was welded to create this town.

The grounds dazzled with a brilliant glow of diamond-crusted paths as we approached a gate that opened at our arrival, where willow trees and shadow surrounded a large estate.

The home was a shrunken-down castle with ivy trailing up to one point.

Archer jumped off the horse, helping me down as we walked to the front doors.

“You grew up here?” I choked.

“Yes. Grimswire was where I was born.” The door opened, and a male stood near the opening. Damien? He had dark hair with a tanned complexion. That same sharp jawline and dimpled left cheek as Damien.

No, it was Kian, the third Lynch brother. This entire family was beyond attractive.