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“I don’t need him,” I snapped, shame burning hotter than my quell.

The flame sputtered again… then died completely.

Myla’s expression fell. “I’m sorry, Sev. I’ll only make it worse.”

Rok crouched one last time, his smile thin and cruel. “Severyn’s pride got her into this. Let her be the one to teach him how to get her out.” Then he turned and walked off, the other guards trailing behind without a backward glance.

Now it was just me and the flame initiate, alone in a frozen courtyard.

He crossed his arms and tilted his head, studying me like he didn’t know if it was appropriate to laugh at a complete stranger. “I could leave you here,” he said, far too casual. “But my parents raised me to be noble.”

“You’re really bringing nobility into this?”

He smiled, infuriatingly smug. “I’d appreciate it if you’d act nice.”

“Help. Me,” I growled.

He cocked a brow. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please,” I spat.

“Oh.” He blinked. “I thought there’d be, like… an actual magic word. I just got my flame quell an hour ago. Thought maybe you’d have a spell or something.” He paused. “Still, was that so hard?”

“You thought there was a word to ignite your powers?”

Sliding into a crouch, he rubbed his palms together like he was prepping for battle… then pressed them lightly to the ice binding my arms. “Well, Miss Chained-in-Ice, yes. I did.”

I was going to die. No really, I was going to fucking die because of this male and my ego to win a battle.

I sagged, my body aching with cold and exhaustion. The shackles were too thick. “Just… ignite,” I muttered, breath fogging the air.

He wiped his palms on his pants, frowning as absolutely nothing happened. Not even a spark. “It’s not working,” he admitted, shaking out his hands like that would somehow help.

“Get angry,” I hissed. “Anger usually helps.”

He smirked. “I’m not really the angry type. Even now, I’m… weirdly calm. Which is probably an emotional red flag, but I had a lot of therapy as a teenager.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I leaned harder against the frozen stone. “Nothing pisses you off?”

He thought for a beat. “I mean… I hate the sound of chewing. You could try that.”

I sighed. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Ellison,” he said, too smooth for someone currently failing at basic combustion. “Ellison Sinclair. I’d shake your hand, but…”

“I’d rather not freeze to death,” I snapped. “So please, try to summon your flame before a beast eats me alive.”

He gave a theatrical sigh and crossed his legs as he sat. “We could just talk instead. Tell me—why would flirting with you be a terrible idea? That shadow girl really piqued my interest.”

I glared. “If you don’t get me out of this, you’ll find out. ”

“Fine. I’ve got an idea. But if I get frostbite, I’m going to be upset.” Then he started dragging his palms over the ice.

“I appreciate the effort, but rubbing your hands on my chains isn’t going to magically melt them.”

A welt was already blooming beneath the cuffs. If I didn’t get out soon, I’d lose all the feeling in my hands.

“You don’t like the cold, do you?” he asked, quieter now.

I stiffened. “I grew up in an ice fortress.”

He raised a brow. “And?”

“It’s... complicated.”

He didn’t push. “I could never live somewhere cold. I like the sun, citrus trees, and dry breezes. This,” he said, gesturing at the frozen courtyard, “just isn’t for me.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “The cold sucks. Now, do you feel your power or not?”

The sun slipped behind the horizon, casting the courtyard in a bruised lilac hue. The world tilted toward night faster than I would have liked.

Then came the first howl of a beast. A second followed, higher and thinner. Panic climbed my throat like a vine. I was going to die here. Chained. Helpless. Torn apart by beasts because my flame still refused to answer.

I didn’t want to call Archer. I didn’t want him to see me like this.

“How does it feel to you?” he asked softly. “The flame.”

I swallowed. “It’s in my veins. Like the heat is rising in my chest. Like… instinct. It just happens .”

He nodded. “I was supposed to attend the Serpent Academy a few years ago,” he said. “Didn’t get chosen at the Rite.”

A sharp growl tore my attention to the treeline. Two yellow eyes blinked from the shadows.

“Leave me, Ellison,” I said, voice tight. “There’s no point in both of us dying. ”

He followed my gaze, his jaw tightening. “Death dwellers,” he muttered. “Nasty bastards. Their venom traps you in nightmares that never ends.”

I kicked against the ice-bound chains, biting my lip as they cinched tighter around my raw wrists.

The creature stepped into the clearing—skin slick and black as oil, wings ragged like torn parchment. Its claws scraped the stone with a low, vibrating hum.

“Go,” I snapped, harsher this time. “My death isn’t on your hands.”

The death dweller raised its wings—then charged.

“Stay back!” he shouted. “Yeah, you heard me!”

It loomed over me, tattered wings dragging frost behind it, its claw lifting before it struck. Then, suddenly, it wasn’t a beast at all. It was Archer.

He leaned in like he might kiss me, but his features twisted into something wicked. “It will be your fault when Kian dies. I never wanted you as my heir. Nobody did," he growled.

A hand shook me, hard. “Severyn. Wake up.”

I jolted upright, gasping, soaked in a shallow puddle. Ellison knelt beside me, pale and drawn. Dawn bled across the horizon, casting soft light on fresh, bloodied snow. The death dweller was now only a scorched husk of fur and bone.

“What happened?” I rasped, clutching my chest. “You killed it?”

“It scratched you,” Ellison said. “You’ve been screaming for the last hour.”

I looked down. The ice chains had melted beneath me. My clothes were drenched. My bones felt hollow. That horrible vision of Archer had my throat feeling raw.

“It wasn’t real?”

“No,” he said quietly. “But it got in deep. Nasty bastards. Trap you in your worst nightmare and feed off it. I’ve heard stories that some lose all the kindness in them from a single scratch.”

A shiver crawled up my spine. “I think I was trapped in one.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “When it lunged… my quell just shot out.” He winced. “Gods, that sounded way less dirty in my head.”

Despite everything, a small, exhausted smile tugged at my lips. “Thanks. Really.” Then, quieter, “You saved my life.”

He gave a crooked grin. “Just remind me next time to run the other way instead of playing hero, because I nearly pissed myself.”

“I told you to leave.”

“Yeah, well, my damn conscience disagreed. Loudly.”

An awkward beat passed between us. “Well, I’m going to get some sleep, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I left before Ellison could say another word and headed straight for the institute. I slipped through the rust-stained doors. The corridor stretched quiet, humming with magic and wards. I passed the Warden’s desk, and it was empty.

Had Archer told him about Delair? Did he mention it was my fault?

I pressed my back to the wall, my thoughts spun too fast. Maybe I was still trapped in a nightmare.

And somehow, he must’ve felt my panic, because a moment later Archer stepped from the corridor markedas the Serpents Hall .

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said softly. “You didn’t leave with the others after the battle.”

“I was busy,” I said. I wasn’t about to tell him I’d spent an hour chained in ice.

“I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

“I can’t do this,” I breathed. “I can’t stay here.”

“My little heir…” His voice cracked. “You’ve su rvived worse.”

I clung to his warmth. But it slipped through my fingers like sand. He couldn’t stay. And the longer he lingered, the weaker I felt.

“This place killed Klaus,” I whispered. “I can’t—”

His gaze held mine. “We won’t survive if you leave. Just… give me time. Let me explain what your heirship means.”

“We could pretend,” I said, reckless and aching. “I’ll pretend I don’t feel anything for you.”

He leaned in, forehead brushing mine. “I can’t pretend with you, Severyn,” he murmured. “Not when I name you, my heir.”

A beat passed. A heartbeat that felt like a goodbye.

“There are things I’ve kept from you,” he said. “To protect you.”

“No.” My voice broke. “No more secrets. Please.”

A slow clap broke the moment in half. Rok’s laughter slid in like oil. “The Serpent falls for his student. Now that’s a classic forbidden tale.”

I pulled away from Archer’s touch. “Ellison unfroze me,” I said sharply. “I’m cleared to sleep.”

Rok circled like a predator. “The rest of the losers already started dungeon duty. You’ll be bunking in the cellar tonight. And if you’re lucky…” he grinned, all teeth, “maybe tomorrow you’ll win something.”

“She’s freezing,” Archer snapped. “Let her rest.”

Rok shrugged. “Maybe if your beast hadn’t clawed her, she wouldn’t be behind. But here we are.”

I looked back at Archer, just once. “I’ll be fine,” I said, swallowing every word I couldn’t say.

“I’ll burn this place down.”

And I meant it.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, trailing behind Rok through the darkened halls. Then we passed a western wing marked as the Journalist Dorms , and I silently hoped Cully was safe inside.

We descended the narrow staircase behind a thick iron door.

It was ten steps of absolute darkness—no torches, no flicker of flame, just the echo of our boots and the sound of my own breath.

When we reached the bottom, the space opened into a wide chamber.

No windows. No exits I could see. Just stone and silence and a horrible copper smell.

“To become a royal guard,” Rok said without turning, “one must clean the blood of their losses.”

There were already six initiates down there. Two were on their knees, scrubbing at a crimson stain. One girl rushed into a side room, arms full of bandages. I barely had time to process it before Rok kicked my legs out from under me, and I hit the stone hard.

“I expect this room clean in under an hour,” Rok barked. “I’m in a terrible mood, so don’t piss me off.”