Page 52

Nothing could tame that wildfire of anger that brewed in my veins as we went toward the festival.

Kian wore a black leather jacket and a sword over his shoulder.

It was a short walk toward the bustling core of Grimswire.

The sounds of the gathering grew louder as we approached.

A violin played a higher note, along with the strum of a guitar.

The melody was the same as what my mother hummed while cooking and sewing.

The city whispered its history along the aged stones and the chipped buildings.

And I was immersed in a world of shattering light, quells, and the rich scent of cinnamon and citrus.

Town folks danced under the fading sun. My gown blew within the flurry of dust.

“The finest wine in all of Verdonia,” Archer said as he passed me a goblet shaped like a flower, the stem narrowed and slender. Bubbles rose from the bottom up, and I tilted my head back as Archer waited patiently for my approval .

“It’s good. Better than anything I’ve ever had,” I said, taking another sip to drown the thoughts of Damien away. At least a buzz could tame that pounding in my mind.

Kian held his hand out before me. “Well, if you aren’t going to ask Sevy to dance, don’t mind if I do.”

Archer kept that hard-ass stance, resting against the bars overlooking the canal. “I do not control Severyn. If she wishes to dance, don’t let me stop her.”

Kian grabbed my hand, bowing slightly. “May I?”

I rolled my eyes. “You may.” And he spun me thrice as we danced with the other villagers in the town’s core. I dipped back, laughing, spilling the wine.

“Have my brothers driven you mad yet?” he asked. We did something like a waltz, feet swaying with the music as my hand rested on his shoulder.

“I have three of my own,” I yelled over the music. “Four, I mean.”

Kian widened his eyes, wiping his brow dramatically. “No younger sisters?”

“I am afraid not.” Kian stretched his arm out, swinging me toward the crowd as he laughed. “Don’t be pissed at what I’m about to do.”

His head nodded slightly before two firm hands gripped my hips. I turned to meet Archer, nearly slamming into his chest. My feet stilled as he awkwardly adjusted his hands higher up on my waist.

“I never knew you could dance,” he said.

“My father taught me,” I whispered. “I always assumed I would be married off someday.”

A slight grin curved at the ends of his lips. I knew this meant nothing, but I couldn’t stop my blood from heating as he held me close to him .

“And if that were the case, you would never know who killed that man you were forced to marry,” he whispered. “It might have started a war.”

I traced the ripple of shadows that followed our every sway.

I was na?ve to believe any part of him enjoyed this.

Our breaths were in sync. Our hearts beat as one—I felt him in my veins, and I think I had for a while.

I glanced at those beautiful lips. Those eyes of wonder and grace worthy of an ocean named after them as I traced every part of his face.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I said. Was Archer jealous of the hypothetical possibility of me marrying a man?

“I would be a nightmare that haunted you forever had we not met. I would have stayed as a name you hated and accepted that fate, Severyn.”

It was true. My body wanted him—there was no denying it. As for my mind, I’d admit it had strayed too far.

The shutters of our bond rippled, forcing a seal—

But I was nothing more than a setback on his journey to greatness.

“What are you doing to me, Blanche?” he whispered close to my ear. “First, I kneel before you, and now I am dancing with you. Have I proven myself to be friendly yet?”

“Have I tamed the Serpent?” I said. If I washed away with the shadows once those lanterns struck through the ground turned on, I’d accept my fate.

“You have done more than tame me.” There was a pause after, and I couldn’t meet his eyes even on my tippy toes.

My flame relic glowed, illuminated by a shadow, as did his—but it was speckled in ash.

I leaned into him. And every part of me wanted to seal that bond between us, even the unwilling gnaw in my gut.

I believed he also felt it when he leaned in, the slight arch in his shoulders that swallowed me against his body.

“How’s your heart?” he asked slowly .

“Bruised, I suppose. I’m mostly angry at myself for not seeing it.”

Archer stopped dancing, and I slammed hard on that final twirl into his chest. He reached within the slit of my gown and stole a sheathed dagger. Steadying me, but his face went cold—so had that burn within his palm. He hitched my hood over my head as he pushed me behind him.

“Keep your head down,” he hissed.

I followed Archer’s gaze as three six-foot-long scorpions scuttled along the path, their steel pincers snapping. First came the scavengers, but it was the four figures that followed them that chilled my blood.

Their expressions were wicked, eyes cold and unreadable. Pointed, rusted spheres scraped against the stone. They wore scuffed fur vests, the fabric stretched tight over their muscles and scars.

The glass slid from my grasp, shattering onto the ground.

“Scorpion riders?” I hissed.

“Yes, they are called Bribers around here. Much like Scavengers, but their enigmas are scorpions,” whispered Archer.

The one male leading grinned, liquid black eyes hidden beneath his brow bone’s shadow. A giant scorpion hissed, claws ready to attack. The entire crowd went still.

“I heard a Serpent was here,” he yelled. Scars covered his skin—marked with foreign relics. He pulled his cloak down, and a mound of black curls shaped his narrowed face.

It took everything in me not to grab Archer and force him to stay back. I knew his shadow quell could strangle them if the Briber attacked. But those silent pleas never escaped as Archer stepped forward, and our weak bond rippled.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Detria,” Archer asked.

Detria raised his chin as if tasting the air. “Are we not allowed to enjoy a festival? All are welcome during Harvest in the South. ”

He opened his arms wide, stealing a goblet from a woman's hands and slamming the wine back. “And the wine is simply to die for me.”

“You know your kind is not welcome in the South, let alone Verdonia. I would not want a fight to ruin such a beautiful festival.” Archer’s voice was calm and assertive.

“Now, what is it you seek? Because I know it is not oranges.” Archer glanced at the second female Briber, who was peeling an orange with a knife.

She grinned a wicked white smile, glancing at me with violet eyes. Her blonde, nearly white hair curled her slender jaw. She wore a feathered corset, plumping her cleavage.

Detria made a silvered-toothed grin. “We hear you are harboring a neval girl. Her blood sells for a hefty amount of gold. Give her to us, and we will be on our way.”

I kept my eyes low. He wanted me. Monty was telling the truth. Ash choked up my lungs. Kian flickered his gaze toward Archer, not daring to glance back and give me away.

Was I truly priceless, or were those just empty words?

“You are on my land, Briber. Leave now.” I had seen moments of Archer’s quell within the flickers of darkness, but never like this.

The sky muted to grey, and whatever shield Archer had used to conceal his shadows was now at full rein.

Ripples grew from his open palm, and I realized I was in one as sounds bounced off the shield Archer had put off, echoing with a dissonance that could only be shouting.

Flames shot from my palms—and even that shadow could not hold back my cindering ash.

Detria curled his fingers at me with a slight beckoning that made my skin crawl. “This is your father’s land. You have no say here. We will leave peacefully, but we need the neval. We wouldn’t want a repeat of last time. ”

Were the Bribers our enemies? The ones whom Charles was warded to never speak about. “Why do you want my blood?” I asked with slim confidence.

Detria’s scorpion hissed, lunging at me with two sharp pointers. “Some say your blood holds power. I don’t ask questions.”

I aimed my flame at the scorpion’s face. Archer drew a bow, and I lit the tip seconds before it struck the Briber in the leg.

Detria groaned, yanking the arrow from his skin and snapping the metal in half over his knee. He stared between Archer and me as if he could see the shield extending between us and my pathetic attempt to hold my own up.

“Sabitha, grab her,” Detria hissed at the blonde girl, raising a hand.

An invisible force slammed into me. Two scorpions jumped, one pinning the hem of my gown with its claw.

“Not only are you a neval, but you are also bonded to the Serpent through your enigmas and a barter. How peculiar. It seems the price of her blood just doubled. Tell me who you are, or my scorpion will force it from you.”

Sabitha raised a golden ringed finger, willing the scorpion to snap its pincers.

“Tell him,” Archer said, that calmness still in his voice. “Scorpions draw from the soul. He’s already taken from us.”

“Severyn Blanche,” I said. “Daughter of Fallon Berret and the Northern Colindale Serpent.”

The scavengers hissed, scurrying in place like rabid wolves. Detria raised a brow. “Reveal your face. Let me see.” He approached me, ripping the cloak off my head with three bony fingers.

His thumb brushed my trembling jaw before a shadowed claw roped his wrist, bounding him back. “Do not touch her,” Archer growled .

The scavenger with the scar on her cheek grinned, her excitement as vile as her rasping voice. “Fallon was worth every piece of gold when she was bought. I only wish I’d been the one to find her.”

I froze. “My mother… was bought?”

“The price of being a neval,” Detria said coldly. “Severyn is already marked in the eyes of our buyer. She’s worthless to us now.”