Page 54

The following day, another gown was laid on my bed. This one was made of red silk that snugged my waist. The skirt pooled into a bath of crimson crystals as the neckline swooped against my sternum. It was delicate, yet revealing.

I thought I would ask Archer what receiving a dress from a Serpent meant, but humor seemed grim after last night.

Kian and Archer were outside sparring. Their backyard sprawled with rolling grass, fenced in by tall posts and crowned with a wraparound porch.

A swinging woven chair creaked faintly in the breeze, adding a soft rhythm to the crack of fists meeting skin.

Welts bloomed across their bare chests, sweat streaking their muscles like war paint.

At least Kian had landed a few solid hits on Archer.

I stepped outside, the sun warming my shoulders. Kian spotted me and waved, his grin boyish despite the fresh bruise darkening his cheekbone. “Last day in Ravensla,” he said. “You’re in luck because tonight there’s a quell show.”

“What’s a quell show?” I asked, stepping closer.

“Anyone with a quell projects it. It’s a ritual for the Harvest Festival,” Kian explained, brushing his damp hair back. “I might even gain mine today.”

Archer snorted, nudging Kian’s ribs. “He’s a late bloomer.”

I turned to Archer, who had wiped the gleam of sweat from his forehead. He gestured to the dress I wore, its red fabric catching the sunlight like flame. “You should show off your flame tonight. Red suits you.”

I fisted the lace bones along the ribs, the corset hugging each shaky inhale. “I can’t exactly run if someone tries to steal me again. What’s with the dress?”

Archer’s expression softened, a rare flicker of sincerity breaking through. “It’s vintage,” he said simply. “And, yes, red is your color.”

Heat crept up my neck, unwelcome and betraying. Before I could respond, Archer stepped forward and touched my shoulder, steering me toward the house. “Come inside,” he said.

“Did you gain your shadow at the Harvest?” I asked, glancing up at him.

He nodded. “Yes. I was seventeen. The look on my father’s face when his eldest son inherited his mother’s Night blood—I’ll never forget it.

He never forgave me for it.” Archer’s voice carried a bitterness that deepened the shadows clinging to him.

“I hope Kian’s quell is warmer. For his sake.

Though, surprisingly, you can’t beat a quell out of someone. ”

“Your father… hurt you?”

Archer’s jaw tightened. “My mother died a year before. I was a painful reminder of her, a failure in his eyes—the son who should’ve claimed his throne but instead inherited the wrong blood. ”

Rage flared in my chest. “You didn’t deserve that.”

A shadow of a smile played on his lips. “Now, don’t go soft on me, Severyn. Remember, you’re not supposed to care about me.”

I changed the subject, though my anger lingered. “I wonder why Winters don’t gain their quells until the academy.”

Archer leaned against the dining table, his fingers digging into the wood as if bracing himself. “Klaus never wrote when he lived with you? That man spent nearly every waking minute with a notebook in his hands.”

Thinking back to our family home two years ago felt like recalling another lifetime. “He read. Cully was more of the writer in our family.”

Archer’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table. “I knew you were coming to the academy. Klaus knew he would die. And I knew you’d be placed in some bullshit realm, forced to bond with a creature that didn’t call to you because Naraic was dead.”

“Klaus told you about me,” I said, more statement than question. The realization settled over me like a heavy cloak. During Skyfall, Klaus had demanded that Naraic break their bond. Now, the pieces clicked into place.

Archer’s voice dipped lower. “I had to keep my mouth shut. But Damien heard my thoughts, and he got to you first. I knew you’d go into that forest, so I followed you. But every time I saw you, I felt guilty. Guilty because I thought I’d stolen your chance to bond, to breathe. So I stayed away.”

His hand rose, daring to graze my cheek.

The touch was fleeting but enough to make my breath hitch.

“But fuck, you made it difficult. Twice, I had to drag you away. And it took everything in me not to tell you what I knew.” He exhaled sharply.

“Ciaran kept telling you to find him, and I forbade her from nearing you. ”

I pulled back, shaking my head. “Why are you telling me this now?”

His gaze burned into mine. “I never knew how they figured Klaus had a forbidden quell. Not until yesterday. Then, it all made sense. When I heard you scream last night—” He stepped closer, the space between us disappearing. “They tortured you in the Winter realm, and I did nothing to stop it.”

My throat tightened. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“I couldn’t hold Ciaran back, but I had no right to intervene. She’d broken my command and saved you herself, as she did during Skyfall. I know he hurt you, Severyn. I know being rejected from your home is the worst feeling.”

“Bridger wanted to prove I wasn’t Winter-bound.” The words tasted bitter. “I know it wasn’t your doing, but it still hurts to know Ciaran was ordered not to help me.” I hesitated, tracing the gem stitched into my gown’s lace trim. “Did you know I’d be drawn to Summer?”

He shook his head. “No. I had no idea you’d be called to Summer or end up in the running for my father’s title. But I knew you wouldn’t make it far.”

“You never suspected?”

“Scavengers raised your mother. She could have distant blood from anywhere.”

I shuddered, my fingers trembling against the lace. “The Serpent’s life is cruel.”

Archer’s grin was crooked, darkly amused. “Not as cruel as the woman you’re bonded to killing the closest thing to an heir you’ll have.”

“There’s always Antonia,” I shot back, though my voice wavered. “She seems to have her eye on you, Serpent.”

Archer’s laugh was sharp, cutting. “Antonia is not Serpent quality. To claim a realm, you must be conniving and willing to lay down your life. My father rebuilt Ravensla through barters and bribes, not sentiment.”

I swallowed hard, leaning against the wall for support. “And would you lay your life down for your realm?”

Archer studied me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. “I would,” he said at last. “But it would be foolish without an heir. I’m not eager to drag my future children into this cycle. Better someone else take it than repeat this madness.”

I managed a weak laugh. “Who would want to live in constant darkness? No offense.”

“Only those who see beauty in shadows will understand,” Archer replied, his voice low. “Light is a mask.”

Before I could respond, he turned and left, his footsteps fading as he disappeared to shower. I stared after him, the words he’d left behind lingering in the air like smoke from a fire long extinguished.

We spent that afternoon at the estate. Kian gave me a full tour of the Lynch family home, besides one room I assumed to be Damien’s. Was it untouched for the isolated years he spent in boarding school?

Seven bedrooms were fully decorated with beautiful paintings of Ravensla.

A hand-woven mat carried my feet along the long halls, string and cloth made from the same rich golds and reds that decorated the city.

A wine cellar, made to withstand war, held a hundred bottles, some aged from when Veravine reigned.

“Was that Veravine?” I asked, passing by a portrait of a woman. The face was smudged, unrecognizable over the years.

Kian nodded. “This was her home. Most of her belongings were gone when my father claimed the title, but Father kept this one, although her face was only a reminder of the destruction her death caused.”

“Veravine… it is a beautiful name,” I said.

Kian shrugged. “I heard she was hot, but she’s dead, so that might be disrespectful.”

I swatted his arm. “Do you even have a filter?”

He leaned against the stone wall. “Life is too fast, Sevy. I speak my mind.”

I stared at that smudged portrait once more. It was a love that could crumble city walls. And it wasn’t the Forgotten who stripped this land. It was the stain her blood made on the king’s heart.

After my tour, we ventured into the Grimswire Night Market.

Overhead, floating paper lanterns waltzed through the ashen sky, painting delicate veins across the clouds.

Along the canal’s gentle waves, candles swayed in harmony.

Masquerade masks concealed the faces of the townsfolk, featuring beaks, snouts, and feathers in hues of silver and gold, all swirling through the bustling streets.

Above us, a clan of baby dragons performed an intricate dance in the sky, playfully chasing one another. It was impossible to choose where to look.

Archer rolled his shoulders once, eyes scanning the slowing, beating sun. “What do you say, Blanche? Are you ready to show the people of Ravensla how much you burn?”

“Are you calling me hot ?”

“Maybe a bit of a hothead,” he teased, glancing at my hands. “May I?”

“Yes,” I said, a bit too fast.

A swift nod before a cool hand led me to a cluster of people around the bridge. “Do you enjoy it here?” he asked. “The heat must feel different. ”

“I think I’d have to see it without the glamor.” I glanced at Kian, gazing at his palms, anticipating that surge of power to manifest. “I wonder what kind of quell Kian will have.”

Archer draped his arms over the bridge, eyes nearly matching the crystal-clear blue water below.

“My father will not be happy if it’s shadows.

The past Serpent of Night used my mother as a pawn and stole power from Summer so the Night realm could have heat and sun in certain parts.

That is why Grimswire looks different than the rest of Ravensla.

There is always a silver lining to all barters, bribes, and even deaths.

My mother died for Night to have light and sun. ”