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“Bridger is lying,” I snapped. “He’s trying to take Father’s title. He’s not a leader. He should be expelled for this—”

A whip of ice slashed the ground, silencing me. I jumped back as Charles’s expression hardened.

“You’re not in Winter anymore, Severyn. You shouldn’t care.”

I began to shake. “Please trust me, Charles. Myla deserves to stay. Bridger isn’t—he’s dangerous.”

Charles chuckled darkly. “Being a Serpent means making tough decisions. Not all of them are good ones. If you were graded on niceness, more students would be on my scroll. You’re young. Someday, when you’re in power, you’ll understand and thank me.”

He kept his chin high, stubborn cruelty hidden beneath his plain demeanor .

“Charles, you’re making a mistake.” I reached for him, but my hands curled around empty air. Ice crawled up my sleeve, numbing my fingers.

His jaw tightened. “Bridger Thorne will be the next Serpent of the Frozen Valley. The academy makes no mistakes. Get to class before my scroll grows longer.”

My blood boiled as I stalked toward warding, cursing with every breath.

I hoped to catch Myla and warn her.

“Naraic, you need to take Myla away.” Her griffin was still too young to carry her.

“The skies are too full.”

But her empty seat screamed back like a thorn in my hand, a bloody thorn I’d spent a day trying to pry out. Damien met my gaze, and as I passed him, I heard him whisper, “She’s already gone. Some woman escorted her out.”

My mouth dried. “What did she look like?”

Damien shoved a mental image of Lorna riding Julian into my mind, the intrusive thought sharp and clear. Then, in the distance, Setrephia soared across the sky, her golden eyes scanning the academy grounds.

A scream pierced the air, distant but filled with unmistakable terror. It was already too late. Perhaps Charles knew I was a tsunami—a force capable of dragging the current to the shore—and this was his way of attempting to control it.

Above, Haziel’s hatchling griffin squeaked and cried, its tiny wings flapping furiously.

The little creature wasn’t strong enough to keep pace with Setrephia, who ascended higher and higher, her flight effortless and commanding.

Haziel tried—tried with everything she had—her sleek, fluffy feathers beating the air in desperate pursuit. But the distance only grew.

Charles had taken Myla.

Another two days passed without the Serpents.

I believed this was a test of how long I could go without breaking.

I did as Charles told me and was as quiet as possible.

Even today, when I was pinned against Bridger for combat, I allowed him to walk away without his entire face melting off, and I’d say I deserved a medal of patience for that act of kindness.

I should have killed him. I should have held his heart in my grasp and demanded an answer. But Damien pulled me off him as I hovered my flame below his chin.

“Severyn, he pisses me off too, but Bridger is a mentor. He was Myla’s mentor. It’s not fair, but it happened,” Damien hissed as we sat on the dragon fields next to Emerich and Naraic. “Malvoria needs soldiers, and Myla has a powerful quell. She’ll survive the three years.”

I closed my eyes, Haziel’s cries of pain still echoing in my mind after two days. “Give me the rundown of the Serpent Bid. I don’t want any surprises.”

Damien leaned back, gazing at the gray sky.

“We travel by boat to the Serpent estate. As the name suggests, Serpents bid on who they want to gain the title and be in the final trial. I am the current lead, but that could change. Most bid on their own children, but this year is full of hybrids. Our parents didn’t grow up in the same realms, so it’s hard to say what will happen.

This year, it’s based on skill—as it should be.

Archer had nearly every Serpent vote for him his year, so he ranked two years ahead of the rest. That’s why I’m a mentor and first in line for the final trial. ”

He continued, “Then there’s this thing called claims. If a Serpent is drawn to you, they can claim you, which means no one else can bid on you. The whole thing is all bullshit.”

“A Serpent can claim you?” I gasped .

“Any attention from a Serpent is good, but a claim is a bid that ensures you’ll earn a title that year, like putting all your bets on someone.

It guarantees no one will deem you unworthy or send you to Malvoria.

But being claimed isn’t ideal—you’re essentially their puppet for the night.

Honestly, the bid is all a sham. The lindworm chooses who will reign.

This academy just prepares us for when it does. ”

“And if you object to being claimed?”

Damien chuckled darkly. “It’s like warding—you can’t break a ward unless you want a painful death.

You’re bound by quell to that Serpent until we return to the academy.

So, don’t go winking at random Serpents that night.

” He nudged my ribs lightly. “Although, in your case, it might work in your favor.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“If you gain a title, it’s an automatic alliance with that realm. There are positives. For example, if Monty claimed Bridger, he could bargain his light.”

“Archer told me your mother was a marriage bid. Do you remember how you found out she died… if you don’t mind me asking?”

Damien’s expression darkened. “My father’s mind was never clear about it.

Rage can shield memories. All I saw was her pale face as he stood over her still body.

He said she was missing, and days turned into months.

I told Archer, and he brushed me off.” He paused, his voice tightening.

“Boarding school was… something else. It was like being thrown in with all the misfits of Verdonia. I learned a lot about people. I learned how to be alone. Sometimes, I wonder if I even know how to be normal.”

Despite what he’d done to Everett, I found forgiveness for Damien because I saw the cracks in him, the broken pieces no one else noticed. “That must have been hard. ”

“In some ways, I’m ahead of everyone here. I nearly ran out of books to read. So, when I encounter something mysterious, my mind has to figure it out.”

His gaze danced along the clouds. “I know we were doomed to be anything more than friends, but… a part of me wishes I’d kissed you that first night. Part of me wishes you were still Winter-bound.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Damien, I can’t be anything besides your friend. Not when I don’t know if I’ll make it through the year.” My voice wavered, but I held steady, hoping he didn’t see through my lie.

He sighed, his voice tinged with resignation. “You’re a terrible liar, Severyn Blanche. I see how you look at my brother. The worst part is… I can read your mind, but he seems to understand you more than I ever will.”

Flexing my fingers, I shifted the topic, unwilling to lead Damien on anymore. There was nothing salvageable between us—not after those stolen moments within the glass, not after he’d willed death and life from my forbidden veins.

“I wonder how Myla is doing?” I said quickly.

“Charles probably enjoys having another Winter quell there. It’s nice to be around quells like your own.” His gaze lingered on the shadow relic etched into my palm.

I didn’t bring it up. I didn’t have the energy to explain, nor did I want to hear Damien’s sharp remarks about how harboring too many quells could surge me. I was a walking disaster, waiting to be stripped of everything once the bid came.

“I swear, if Bridger takes my father’s title…” I curled my fingers into the dried grass, the heat of my frustration sparking at my fingertips.

“Your father needs an heir, Severyn,” Damien said softly. “He’s not quite as lucky to have two rivals like us. ”

And I wondered if things between us would have been different if I were called to Winter in another life.

But I couldn’t live beneath someone, and I’d seen Damien’s fantasy about him being the Serpent.

Archer. He still hadn’t returned to the academy. And the ache in my gut was enough for me to need a bed.

“Where are you?”

I felt no ebony shadows running down our unsealed bond. No response as night soaked the sky.